#and it’s healing and all but you still can’t walk without feeling like someone is hammering a nail into the wound

[loderlied]

[itneverendshere]

played me like a clarinet - rafe cameron (two)

request: "Desperately-on my knees-begging for a ''She's all that'' from 1999, with Popular Rafe x Reader. Ooouff, and you want that soul crushing heartbreak when she finds out about the bet he had made" pairing: rafe x smart!nerdy!reader. warnings: more angst <3; read part one here

Rafe can’t pinpoint the exact moment he fell for you. 

Maybe it was that late-night study session in the library, when you two were the only ones left, books spread out around you in a chaotic mess. You were focused, and determined to get through the material, but you still found time to crack a joke about the professor’s outdated references. It caught him off guard, the way your eyes lit up with humor, and he found himself smiling back, genuinely for the first time in a while.

Or maybe it was the day you dragged him out of bed for an early morning hike, insisting that the sunrise was something he couldn’t miss. He was grumpy, still half-asleep, but the way you looked at the horizon with pure wonder in your eyes made it all worth it. You were always pulling him into these little adventures—moments he would’ve missed if it weren’t for you. And each time, he found himself enjoying them more because you were there.

Maybe it was when you’d curl up next to him in his dorm room, no words needed, just the comfort of each other’s presence. You didn’t ask for anything from him, didn’t expect him to be anyone but himself. It was in those moments that Rafe started to realize how much he needed you—how much he craved the simplicity of just being with you.

Then there was that day in the quad, where you were sitting with a group of friends, laughing about something he couldn’t hear from where he stood. You looked so at ease, so effortlessly yourself, that he couldn’t take his eyes off you. It hit him then, a quiet revelation that left him breathless: you weren’t just someone he enjoyed being around. You were someone he couldn’t imagine being without.

He started looking forward to the little things—walking you to class, the way your hand would brush against his as you walked side by side, the shared meals where you’d always steal fries off his plate with a mischievous grin. He fell for the way you listened to him, really listened, even when he was just venting about something trivial. You made him feel seen and understood in a way no one else ever had.

Rafe might not be able to pinpoint the exact moment he fell for you, but he knows that somewhere along the way, you became his favorite part of every day. You made him want to be better, to live up to the version of himself that you seemed to see, even when he struggled to see it himself. 

Of course, he had to fuck up the best thing to happen in his life.

He had never been good at keeping good things close. Maybe it was fear, maybe it was self-sabotage, or maybe he just didn’t know how to handle something real. He didn’t mean to—he never wanted to hurt you—but somehow, he always found a way to mess things up.

He’d forgotten all about the stupid bet. No one had mentioned it in months, he figured it was over. Gone. Like they had never planned it in the first place. It was so fucking stupid of him. He figured it was over, a distant memory that held no weight against what you meant to him now. But he was wrong. So fucking wrong.

The damage was done. He’d never forget the look on your face when you confronted him. It nearly undid him right there. He tried to explain, to tell you that the bet was meaningless, that it hadn’t mattered from the moment he truly got to know you. But every word felt hollow, wrong, as if he was trying to patch up a wound that was too deep to heal. He hadn’t meant to fall for you, hadn’t expected you to become the most important person in his life.

But you did.

You walked out that day, and he didn’t have the strength to stop you. He couldn’t, because deep down, he knew he had no right to ask you to stay. He had fucked up in the worst way

Rafe tried to tell himself that it was for the best, that you were better off without him, but every day without you only proved how wrong he was. He missed you—God, he missed you more than he thought possible. Nights were the worst. He would lay awake, staring at the ceiling, replaying everything over and over again, wishing he could go back, undo it all. But he couldn't.

He'd see you around campus sometimes. But there was a distance now—a wall that he had put there, and it killed him to know that he was the reason for it. 

Whenever your eyes met, there was no warmth, no recognition. It was as if he had become just a stranger to you, and it tore him apart.

Rafe knew he needed to give you space, but the thought of never having you in his life again was unbearable. He would catch himself walking in your direction, only to stop short, turning away because he didn't want to cause you more pain. But he wanted to talk to you, to explain himself better, to make you understand that he never meant for any of this to happen. The words never came out right in his head, and he doubted they ever would in person. But still, he wanted to try.

And then one day, as he was walking through the quad, he saw you sitting alone on a bench, reading a book. For a moment, it felt like old times, when he could just walk over, sit beside you, and everything would be okay. But it wasn’t like that anymore. His chest tightened as he watched you, the familiar ache swelling up inside him.

He was just about to turn away when he heard a familiar voice behind him.

"Rafe, man! There you are!"

It was Kelce, along with a couple of their friends. They were laughing, completely oblivious to his situation. Rafe stiffened, his jaw clenching as he realized what was about to happen. He tried to subtly signal Kelce to keep it down, to not draw any more attention to him—or worse, to you.

But it was too late. Kelce was already too close, and you had already noticed the group approaching. Your eyes flickered from your book to them, and then to Rafe, your expression unreadable.

Kelce, noticing your gaze, gave you a nod and then turned to Rafe, still grinning. 

The fucking nerve he had was astonishing. 

"What are you doing over here, man? Stalking her now, or just reminiscing?"

Rafe shot him a look, but he just laughed, clearly thinking it was all in good fun. 

"C'mon, we were just heading to grab some food. You should join us."

All he could think about was the last time Kelce had been involved in his life—how it was his drunken confession that had ultimately led to this entire mess. Rafe hadn’t forgotten how he had blurted out the truth about the bet to someone else. And now, here he was again, completely fucking oblivious to what he’d done.

Rafe could feel your eyes on him, and it made his skin prickle with unease. He wanted to say something, to explain that this wasn’t what it looked like, that he wasn’t here with them, but the words caught in his throat. He glanced at you, searching for some sign of what you were thinking, but your face was carefully neutral.

Before he could even try to say anything, you stood up, tucking your book under your arm. Without a word, you walked away, leaving Rafe standing there, feeling more lost than ever.

Kelce, still clueless, nudged him. “Come on, let’s go.”

He shook his head, finally finding his voice. “You guys go ahead. I’ll catch up later.”

Kelce shrugged and turned to leave with the others, but not before throwing a careless comment over his shoulder. “Don’t get too caught up, man. There’s plenty of other fish in the sea.”

He wanted to punch him so fucking bad it hurt. 

He took a deep breath. But all he could think about was the look on your face as you walked away. That blank, unreadable expression had become all too familiar. It was worse than anger—it was indifference.

And Rafe knew that was entirely his fault.

As they walked off, he sank down onto the bench you had just vacated. The warmth from where you’d been sitting still lingered, a cruel reminder of how close you’d been, and yet so far out of reach. He buried his face in his hands, groaning. 

What the fuck was he doing? Lurking around you like some creep because he didn’t have the balls to talk to you. Every part of him was still tethered to you.

He hadn't even been brave enough to tell you he loved you. You had walked away thinking you were just a bet. You had walked away believing you were nothing more than a stupid game. And he had let you. He had let you walk away without telling you the truth.

He didn’t just care for you. He didn’t just like you. He was in love with you. 

He knew he couldn’t keep doing this—couldn’t keep watching you from a distance, hoping for some kind of miracle. If he wanted any chance of making things right, he had to take that chance himself. He had to face the mess he’d made, no matter how terrifying it was. Because losing you forever was a thousand times worse than the fear of rejection or the pain of knowing he’d hurt you.

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You’d been trying to move on.

It was the only way to handle what had happened between you and Rafe. You fought to ignore the ache in your chest, to keep yourself busy enough that you wouldn’t have time to think about him.

But the truth was, moving on wasn’t as simple as just letting time pass.

You’d always felt like you had a good handle on things, that you could manage your emotions with a certain degree of control. But this was different. This was a kind of pain you’d never felt before, that crept into your days, making you wary of every familiar corner of campus, every spot you and Rafe had shared. You’d hoped that the sting would slowly fade, that the distance would bring relief. Instead, it seemed to only make things worse for you.

When you saw him in the quad that day with his friends, your heart sank. You tried to focus on your book, tried to drown out the sound of their laughter, but it was impossible. You knew that, despite everything, you would still recognize him in a crowd. It was as if your heart had a direct line to him, a constant reminder of the last time you had seen him.

You had tried so hard to keep your composure, to act like seeing him didn’t matter.

But it did. So much it nearly brought you to tears on the spot. But you weren’t about to cry in public, again, for him. 

Kelce’s comment reached your ears as you walked away and you felt a fresh wave of hurt. The way he laughed, as if the entire situation was a joke, made your stomach churn. It wasn’t just the bet—it was everything. It was the way Rafe had made you feel like you were just another game to be won and then discarded. It was the fact he was still hanging around that kind of people. It was the fact he hadn’t tried to speak to you yet.

You didn’t want to give them the satisfaction of seeing you hurt, but having your heart broken hurt like a bitch. 

You thought you were going insane when Jessica, more precisely Rafe’s ex-girlfriend, sat next to you in the locker room before practice. 

“I'm sorry about him.”

You didn’t spare her a glance, afraid that this was just another sick game you were getting sucked into, “About who?”

Jessica let out a small, humorless laugh. "Fair enough," She paused, her voice softer than you’d ever heard it. “Rafe.”

You didn’t want to talk about him. Bringing him up meant everything was real. 

“I’m not here to stir up drama or anything,” she continued, her tone surprisingly sincere. “I just…I wanted to say I’m sorry. For what he did to you. He’s better than that.”

You finally glanced over at her, skepticism clear in your eyes. “Why are you telling me this?”

Jessica shrugged, leaning back against the bench, “Because you didn’t deserve it. But also because that idiot is clearly in love with you.”

“Love?” The word felt foreign on your tongue, almost laughable after everything that had happened. “That’s ridiculous.”

“I’m serious.”

There was something in her voice that made you falter, a quiet vulnerability that you hadn’t expected. Jessica had always seemed so put-together, so confident, but now, sitting beside you, she looked almost… defeated. 

Jess sighed, “Look, I’m not here to defend him. What he did was fucked up, and he knows it. But I’ve known Rafe a long time, and I’ve never seen him like this before. He’s a mess without you. He won’t admit it, but it’s obvious to anyone who’s paying attention.”

You shook your head, “If he really cared, he would’ve told me. He would’ve tried.”

“Maybe he’s scared,” Jessica offered. “I mean, he’s always been good at screwing things up. Pushing people away before they get too close. It’s like his defense mechanism or something.”

You laughed bitterly. “Well, he succeeded. He pushed me so far away, I don’t think I can ever come back.”

“I get it. But just don’t close yourself off completely. If there’s even a small part of you that still cares about him, maybe give him a chance to explain. He’s not perfect, but he’s not the guy who made that bet anymore.”

You didn’t know what to say to that. 

“Why do you care?”

“Because I hurt him even though I cared for him. What I did was a lot worse, so— Yeah. He lashes out when he’s hurt, unfortunately you got caught in the way. But the way he looks at you? We dated for two years and that motherfucker never looked at me like that."

You felt like crying all over again.

You nodded slowly. You had let Rafe see you, let him into parts of your life that you didn’t share with just anyone. And then, just like that, he had shattered everything.

Her voice broke through your thoughts again.

“I’m not saying you should forgive him, or even take him back. That’s your choice, and no one can make it for you. But I just wanted you to know that he’s different with you. Maybe he doesn’t deserve another chance, but I think he’s trying to be better because of you.”

“I don’t know if I can trust him again,” you finally admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

“That’s okay,” Jessica said gently. “Trust isn’t something that can be fixed overnight. It takes time. But maybe it’s worth considering—if you think he’s worth it.”

You sat in silence for a while, the noise of the locker room fading into the background as you both lost yourselves in your thoughts. You had been so sure that moving on was the only way forward, that putting as much distance between you and Rafe as possible was the best option.

With that, she stood up, giving your shoulder a gentle squeeze before heading toward the exit. You watched her go. You had never really thought much about Jessica beyond the typical assumptions. She was Rafe’s ex, the girl who had been with him before you, your cheer squad captain. That was the extent of it. You’d never really seen parts of the real her. You knew she’d left him for someone else, but you strangely felt a connection to her. Like she was the only one listening, understanding how you really felt.

You hadn’t expected her to be so… human. Vulnerable. 

You leaned back against the cold metal of the locker, staring at the ceiling. The idea of trusting him again seemed impossible, like trying to glue together a shattered vase with pieces still missing. But what Jessica had said struck a chord—he was different with you. You’d seen it too, those moments when he’d let his guard down, when he’d been genuine, real.

Practice started, but your mind wasn’t in it. Your movements felt mechanical, your usual enthusiasm gone. You kept replaying everything in your head. By the end of practice, you were exhausted, both physically and emotionally.

Back in your room, you dropped your bag by the door and collapsed onto your bed. The familiar surroundings offered little comfort. You pulled out your phone, scrolling through your messages, half-expecting one from Rafe that never came. 

But maybe, just maybe, it was time to take a sledgehammer the wall between you two.  You sat up, taking a deep breath. If you were going to do this—if you were going to even entertain the idea of talking to Rafe—you needed to be honest with yourself first. You still cared about him. You’d tried to bury those feelings, tried to convince yourself that you were over it, but the truth was, you weren’t. Not completely. Before you could overthink it, you grabbed your phone and opened a new message.

We need to talk.

Your finger hovered over the send button for what felt like an eternity. Once you pressed it, there was no going back. But maybe that was the point. You couldn’t keep living in this limbo, caught between the past and the future.

With a final deep breath, you hit send.

The wait felt unbearable. You stared at your phone, willing it to light up, to give you some kind of response. And then, just when you were about to give up, it buzzed in your hand.

Rafe: Yeah, we do. Tonight?

Oh god.

Where?

You were really doing this.

Rafe: Your dorm?

Was talking to the boy who shattered your heart and trust in a secluded place a good idea? No. But you were tired.

Okay.

You set your phone down, heart racing. The reality of what you’d just agreed to hit you like a punch, leaving you feeling both terrified and relieved. You’d spent so long avoiding this conversation, but now there was no more running.

As you waited, every minute felt like an eternity. You tried to distract yourself, but your mind kept wandering back to the idea of seeing him again, of hearing his voice, of looking into those eyes that had once made you feel safe. Now, they were just a reminder of the pain.

When a knock finally echoed through your dorm room, you jumped. For a moment, you debated not answering, pretending you weren’t there. But you couldn’t keep avoiding this forever. You crossed the room, your hand hesitating on the doorknob before you pulled it open.

Rafe stood there, looking more nervous than you’d ever seen him. His usual confident posture was gone.He ran a hand through his hair, his eyes searching yours as if trying to gauge how much of a mess he’d made.

“Hi,” he said, his voice low, uncertain.

You nodded, stepping aside to let him in. The door closed behind him with a soft click, the sound somehow amplifying the tension between you. You both stood there for a moment, neither of you knowing where to start.

He was the first to break the silence. “I’m sorry,” he blurted out, the words rushed, like he’d been holding them in for too long. “For everything. I was an idiot, and I—”

“Yeah,” you cut him off, unable to keep the bitterness out of your voice. “You were.”

Rafe flinched, but he didn’t argue. Instead, he nodded, accepting your anger like he knew he deserved it. He looked down at the floor, his hands clenched at his sides.

“I don’t even know where to start,” he admitted, “I screwed up. I know that. And I’ve been trying to figure out how to fix it, but I don’t know how.”

You crossed your arms over your chest, trying to keep a distance between you both, both physically and emotionally. “Why didn’t you just tell me the truth?” you asked, your voice trembling with the weight of all the unanswered questions. “Why did you let it get to this point?”

“I was terrified,” he murmured, his voice so soft it almost broke. “Of what you’d think of me. Of how you’d see me if you knew the truth. I didn’t want to lose you.”

“But you did,” you said, your voice trembling with the weight of your hurt. “You lost me the moment you chose to lie.”

Rafe’s throat tightened as he swallowed, his nod filled with anguish. “I know. And I despise myself for it. But I—God, I didn’t know how to stop it. It was like everything spiraled out of control, and by the time I realized how deep I was, it was too late.”

It didn’t feel right to tell you he loved you right now. It would be unfair to you. It would feel like he was only saying it to get you back. So he settled for anything else.

You could see the struggle in him, the way his hands fidgeted slightly, his weight shifting from one foot to the other. He was here, in front of you, trying to make things right—or at least as right as they could be after what he’d done.

“Rafe,” you started, your voice calmer than you felt, “I don’t know if I can ever forgive you for what you did. The way you hurt me—it’s not something that just goes away because you’re sorry.”

He took a step closer, his hands shaking as he reached out to you but stopped himself, not daring to touch you without permission.  “I get it,” he said quietly. “I don’t expect you to forgive me. I just—” He paused, struggling to find the right words. “I just want you to know that I’m trying to change. I’m trying to be better, even if it’s too late for us.”

You let out a slow breath, your heart still aching, but something in his voice, the way he seemed so genuinely broken, tugged at you. “I can’t just pretend like everything is okay.”

“I don’t want you to,” Rafe said quickly, desperation creeping into his voice. “I don’t deserve that. But I can’t stand the thought of losing you completely. Even if you don’t forgive me, I still want you in my life.”

You looked at him, really looked at him, and saw the sincerity in his eyes. It was hard to reconcile this version of him with the one who had shattered your trust. But maybe that was the point—people were complicated, and sometimes they didn’t fit neatly into the boxes you wanted them to.

“We can try to be friends. I’m not saying it’s going to be easy, and I’m not saying it’ll work, but we can try.”

“I’d like that. I’d really like that,” he said, his voice almost breaking. “I’ll take whatever you’re willing to give.”

Friends.

The word sounded weird when you said it out loud.

The first few interactions were awkward—half-hearted smiles, stilted conversations, but both of you were trying. You started to see each other around campus more often, exchanging brief greetings that gradually turned into longer conversations. Rafe kept his distance, respecting your boundaries, but it was clear he was trying. He showed up at places he knew you'd be—not in a creepy way, but more like he wanted to be near you, to remind you that he was still there.

There were moments when the old him, your Rafe, the one who had made you laugh and pulled you into adventures, would slip through. He’d make a sarcastic comment in class, and you’d catch yourself smiling. Or he’d casually bring you coffee during your study sessions, just the way you liked it, without making a big deal out of it. 

You started to remember why you had fallen for him in the first place—his humor, his kindness, the way he could make you feel like you were the only person in the room. It wasn’t easy, though. Every time you began to let your guard down, a voice in the back of your head reminded you of the bet. You were friends, that was it. 

The cafeteria buzzed with the usual lunchtime chatter as you and Rafe sat across from each other, trays of food between you. It had become something of a routine—meeting up for lunch between classes. What had started as an awkward attempt to maintain your friendship had slowly become one of the highlights of your day. The easy banter was back, the kind that had drawn you to him in the first place, and it was nice to feel some semblance of normalcy returning between you two.

As you took a bite of your sandwich, you noticed Rafe was unusually quiet, focused intently on you. It made you self-conscious, the way his eyes seemed to see straight through you, and you couldn’t help but squirm a little under his scrutiny.

“What?” you asked, raising an eyebrow as you tried to sound casual.

He just shrugged, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips. “Nothing. Just thinking.”

“About?”

“About how good it feels to have this again,” he said softly, his words wrapping around your heart and squeezing tight.

Before you could respond, a voice interrupted the moment. “Hey, Rafe.”

You both looked up to see a girl from your econ class standing beside your table. She was pretty, with a confident smile that didn’t waver even as she glanced between the two of you. You recognized her—Luíza, or something like that. 

“Hi,” Rafe replied, his tone polite but distracted. His eyes flickered back to you almost immediately, as if he was already bored with the conversation.

She didn’t seem to notice—or care. She flashed him a bright smile and leaned a little closer, clearly ignoring your presence. “Wondering if you’d want to study together for the next exam? I’m struggling with some of the material, and you seem like you really know your stuff.”

Well, he did. Because you were smart enough for both of you and a hell of a tutor. 

He barely spared her a glance, his focus still on you. “I’m good, thanks,” he said casually, picking up his drink and taking a sip.

She blinked, momentarily thrown off by his disinterest, but she quickly recovered. “Oh, come on,” she purred, undeterred. “I’m sure we could help each other out. Maybe over dinner?”

You felt a wave of irritation rising, but before you could say anything, Rafe finally looked at her, “I’m not interested,” he said bluntly, then turned back to you, his eyes softening instantly. “So, what were you saying?”

The sudden change in his demeanor caught you off guard, and you felt your cheeks flush with embarrassment. Luíza, clearly realizing she was getting nowhere, shot you a glare before muttering something under her breath and walking away, her heels clicking sharply on the floor. 

You stared after her, your heart pounding. When you finally turned back to him, he was watching you with an amused expression, as if nothing had happened.

“What the hell was that?” you demanded.

He just shrugged, completely unfazed. “What do you mean?”

“You didn’t have to be so rude to her,” you snapped, though part of you was secretly pleased. “She was just being nice.”

Rafe leaned back in his chair, giving you that infuriatingly calm look. “She wasn’t just being nice, and y’know it.”

You huffed, crossing your arms over your chest. “Still, you could’ve handled it better.”

He smirked, clearly enjoying how flustered you were getting. “Why would I? I wasn’t interested. You know who I want.”

Him and his stupid mouth. 

The directness of his words sent a shiver down your spine. There was no mistaking the meaning behind them, and it made your heart race in a way you hadn’t expected. You opened your mouth to say something, anything, but the words died on your lips. Instead, you just stared at him.

Rafe seemed to take pity on you, leaning forward and lowering his voice. “I’m not playing games here,” his gaze locked onto yours, “You’re the only one I’m interested in. No one else.”

Your heart skipped a beat, and for a moment, all the doubts and uncertainties you’d been holding onto felt insignificant. You wanted to argue, to tell him off, but the way he was looking at you made it impossible to think straight.

You took a deep breath, clearing your thoughts, “This doesn’t change anything,” you muttered, though even you could hear the lack of conviction in your voice.

“I know.”

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The week had been a blur of exams, stress, and late-night study sessions. Your head was spinning from all the notes, formulas, and flashcards when Rafe found you slumped over your desk in the library.

“You need a break,” he said, gently tapping the back of your chair with his foot.

You sighed, rubbing your tired eyes. “I can’t. I still have two more chapters to get through before tomorrow.”

“Trust me,” Rafe insisted, “Come on sweets, let’s go shoot some hoops.”

You looked at him skeptically. “You know I’m terrible at it.”

“That’s why I’m going to teach you,” he grinned, his confidence contagious. “Come on, you’ve been helping me study all week.”

Reluctantly, you let him pull you out of the library and onto the campus basketball court. It was empty, the sun just beginning to set, casting long shadows across the pavement.

He handed you a basketball, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “Okay, show me what you’ve got.”

You dribbled the ball awkwardly, trying to recall the little you knew about the game. When you attempted a shot, the ball sailed way off the mark, bouncing across the court.

He laughed, jogging over to retrieve it. “Alright, not bad for a first try. Lemme show you how it’s done.”

He stood behind you, close enough that you could feel the warmth of his body. His hands guided yours, positioning the ball just right. “Keep your elbows in, aim for the backboard, and follow through with your wrists. Like this.”

You tried to focus on his instructions, but it was difficult with him so close, his breath warm against your ear. You missed him. You made the shot, and though it didn’t go in, it was closer than your last attempt.

“Better!” he encouraged, still holding your hands on the ball. You could feel his heartbeat through your back. 

You turned your head slightly, and your eyes met his. Rafe’s attention dropped to your lips, his grip on the ball tightening. You could see the conflict in his eyes, the same one that had been gnawing at you for days. This wasn’t just friendship—you were aware of that, of course. There was always something more here. 

Without thinking, you stepped back to face him fully, and in that instant, your foot caught on his, throwing you off balance. You fell forward, your hands clutching at his shirt for support as you tumbled against his chest. His strong arms wrapped around you instinctively, steadying you as you both laughed, the moment both awkward and perfect. You were so close now, his face inches from yours, your breath mingling in the space between you. The laughter faded, and so did your common sense, because you didn’t push him away. His hand came up to brush a stray lock of hair from your face, his touch lingering on your cheek.

“Rafe...” you began, but the words caught in your throat.

You knew that look in his face. You knew every little thing about him. It was as if he was asking for permission, waiting for you to make the next move. You could feel your heart pounding in your chest, every nerve in your body screaming at you to close the gap between you. But before you could act on it, the sound of voices echoed from the other side of the court, breaking the spell.

Oh god. You were about to ruin everything. 

You both stepped back. Rafe looked away, a pained expression crossing his face, eyes pitched closed as he ran a hand through his hair.

“We should, uh, probably get back to studying.”

“Yeah."

As you walked back to the library, side by side but not quite touching, you couldn’t help but wonder what would have happened if you hadn’t been interrupted. And from the way Rafe kept glancing at you out of the corner of his eye, you knew he was thinking the same thing.

He opened the door for you, his hand brushing yours as you passed. The touch was brief, but it was enough to send your heart racing again. Once inside, you both settled back into your usual spot, surrounded by stacks of books and papers. But studying felt impossible now. Every time you looked up, you caught Rafe’s eyes lingering on you, only for him to quickly look away when you noticed.

After what felt like an eternity of trying—and failing—to focus, he finally broke the silence. “Look, about what happened back there…” He trailed off, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “I didn’t mean to make things weird.”

You shook your head quickly, trying to dismiss his concern. “It’s okay.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

No. Not at all. You missed everything about him even when he was standing so close to you.

His fingers drummed against the table as he debated his next words, but you beat him to it.

“It’s just… things are different now,” your attention dropped to the open book in front of you. 

“Different how?” His voice was low, almost tentative, a rare thing for Rafe. He leaned in slightly, waiting for you to elaborate.

You took a deep breath, forcing yourself to look up, “Can we not do this right now? Please? ‘M really tired."

His shoulders slumped. He wanted to argue, to push you for more, but he could see the exhaustion in your eyes—the way this was all taking a toll on you. He nodded slowly, swallowing back the urge to fight.

"Yeah, okay," he leaned back in his chair. "We can just focus on studying."

But neither of you could focus. You kept your eyes on the pages of your book, but the words blurred together, your mind unable to process anything other than the way Rafe was sitting so close yet felt so far away.

Minutes ticked by, the silence between you stretching on, both of you too afraid to break it. You could feel him watching you, his gaze a weight that you couldn’t ignore, but you didn’t dare to look up, not trusting yourself with what you might see in his eyes.

Finally, he sighed, the sound heavy with frustration. "I can’t do this," he muttered under his breath, more to himself than to you.

You glanced up, your heart skipping a beat at the vulnerability on his face. He looked torn, like he was fighting an internal battle that he didn’t know how to win.

"Do what?" 

“Pretend like everything’s fine. Like we’re just friends. Because we’re not, and we both know it."

The honesty in his voice made your throat tighten. You’d been trying so hard to keep things simple, to keep your emotions in check.

“You said you’d take anything I give you. It's been a month.”

Rafe groaned, rubbing his face in frustration. “I know that. And you’re my friend, fuck, you’re my best friend but every time I look at you— I feel like I’m dying.”

“What do you think I feel like?” you snapped, slamming your book shut. “You wanna talk about hurt feelings?

His face paled, and for a moment, he looked as though he might argue back, but then he just sighed, defeated.

“I know, okay? I know I messed up. And I’m not asking for you to forget that,” he said, his voice quieter now, almost broken. “But pretending like we can just go back to being friends is killing me.”

“I don't want to talk about it."

He stared at you, his eyes searching your face for something—anything—that would give him a clue about what you were feeling. But you couldn’t look at him, not with your heart so conflicted, not with the memories of how things used to be clashing so violently with the reality of now.

Finally, you spoke, “I think I need time.”

“Time for what?” he asked, his tone careful, but you could hear the desperation beneath it. He needed to understand, needed to know if there was still hope.

“To be away from you,” You swallowed hard, the words catching in your throat as his face fell into a frown, “Maybe it’s too early.”

He didn’t push you. He just nodded.

“Okay. Take all the time you need,” he said even though you could tell it was killing him to say it. “I’ll be here. Waiting. No matter how long it takes.”

You nodded, unable to say anything else. 

“I think I should go,” you said finally, standing up and gathering your things. You couldn’t handle being around him right now, not when your feelings were exposed.

Rafe stood too, but he didn’t try to stop you. He just watched you with that same look of quiet desperation, as if he was afraid that letting you go now meant losing you forever

“Okay.”

You turned to leave, but then you hesitated, your heart pulling you back. Without turning around, you whispered, “I’ll see you later, Rafe.”

He didn’t respond right away, and for a moment, you weren’t sure if he even heard you. But then he said, “I’ll be here.”

And as you walked away, your chest tight and your thoughts racing, you couldn’t help but wonder if things between you and Rafe could ever really go back to the way they were.

[nottysnake]

like real lovers do

☆pairing: theodore nott x reader

★wc: 1.7k

☆genre: fluff, angst

★summary: theodore keeps getting into fights and you need to know why. 

☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾

loud. that’s all your head could process with the boosted bass coming from the speakers in the middle of the slytherin common room. 

“fuck, it stinks in here.” pansy says, sitting on my right. “mattheo threw the party this time. what do you expect, no weed?”i say. pansy snorts, “yeah right, he couldn’t last an hour without it, he’d ended up assaulting someone.” “that’s not true pans and you know it. that “someone” would be dead, not injured,” mattheo says, coming up from behind the couch we are sitting on, arm wrapped around theodore’s broad shoulders. i look up and see theo, finally seeing his face up close and not from across the room. “woah what the fuck happened to your face?” the flashing green lights can’t mask the big purple, swelling bruise forming on the bottom left of his jaw. i quickly sit up on my knees, turning to face theo while leaning against the back of the velvet dark green couch, courtesy of mr. malfoy.

 i reach up and carefully place my hand on the unaffected side of theo’s jaw. it’s a nasty looking bruise, but all i can think about is how close i am to theo and the fact that the minty gum he is chewing is causing my mouth to water. “nothing.” he says while grabbing the palm of my hand. “liaaaaaar” pansy and matt say in unison. pansy gets up “alrighty, i’m not getting involved in this one, good luck nott.” she says while leaving, quickly making her exit. i narrow my eyes at theodore, who is currently smirking. mattheo unwraps his arm from theo’s shoulder. “as much as i like when you rip him a new one, i somehow always get yelled at too, so i am just gonna…” mattheo drifts off, leaving us, and the bruise, alone. 

“why won’t you stop.” “stop what, piccolo?” his voice is raspy. i can now distinguish  the faint smell of weed and firewhisky. he must’ve started chewing gum before they came up to us, he knows i hate firewhisky.  my heart stops for a second and my eyes soften at the name he uses for me. he rounds the couch to sit on my right, never letting go of my hand. i shift towards him still on my knees, leaning towards his jaw to get a better look. “you can’t call me that when you’re in trouble” i say frowning. taking my hand back and placing them on my lap, looking down trying to figure out what to say.  yeah, i get upset when matty gets hurt when he fights someone for talking shit during a quidditch match. or when draco and potter get into it for whatever merlinforsaken reason. but when it’s theo, it's completely different. my heart feels like it physically stops and my lungs stop working. my chest tightens and my eyes blur.

“what's wrong pico-”

 “you know what’s wrong, i hate when you do this.” i whine. “it's too frequent now, you got detention for fighting with pucey the other day, you’re making them every week practically. your eye JUST healed and now you have to wait on your jaw to get better. i just don’t ge-” im swiftly cut off my being pulled into his side. maneuvering my legs to be splayed out over his instead of towards him. his left hand is now rubbing my back, while his other is holding my head, i close my eyes and sigh while i feel his lips against the top of my head “im sorry, baby”  i lean in closer, finding shelter in the crook of his neck. “then tell me why, you never tell me what happens, just that you beat the shit out of these people and that you’re sorry. don’t i deserve more than that if you're gonna continue making this a habit and making me sad every time i see another mark on you?” 

it's his turn to sigh now, “stop looking too much into it.”

 with that, i get up from the very comfy and warm seat that is his lap, and walk away. weaving in and out of people who are very drunk and probably very high. i’m getting bumped into by people and the dress i am wearing, that is already very short, is getting slowly higher and higher due to the amount of dancing drunk idiots run into me, riding it up. i can hear theo telling people to fuck off or get the fuck out of the waymeaning he is catching up. however, i am able to weave in and out faster than him. reaching the stairs, i get ready to ascend the ones to the right which leads to the girls dormitories, but i am grabbed by the waist before i can even make the first step. i gasp and tense , but a quick look down confirmed it is theo by the watch he is wearing that i got him for christmas two years ago. dang it, he caught up.

i relax, letting him now lead me up the stairs on the left, probably to his dorm room. he is still behind me, and his arm is still around my waist. each step we take, the closer i feel his body on mine, and the more im hyperaware of it. “let me go” even though i really don’t want him to. “okay” he let me go, but once we made it to his room. he opened the door and guided me through. no one was in there, draco must’ve been with pansy. lorenzo and mattheo were probably drinking, and blaise was probably hooking up with some girl who he will fall in love with for the next week and then forgets exists the next. i’d bet accuracy on that one. 

as he shuts the door behind us, he lets go of my waist. suddenly,  it;s cold, and my mouth temporarily frowns before he turns me around to face him with his arms on my shoulder. he ducks down to look into my eyes, “i am sorry piccolo. i’m not sorry for doing it, but im sorry that i upset you when i do and i still do it knowin that. i just react.” his face is genuine and his words are slow, something that happens when he is telling the truth. “please tell me why, maybe i can help.” he closes his eyes for a second and then takes a deep breath. opening his eyes, he moves his hands to my face, cradling me like i'm the most precious thing in the world. “they deserved it. adrian was telling a couple of his blokes in the courtyard that he wanted to fuck you. he was saying all the vulagar things he would do to you and i heard it and i snapped,” he starts, breathing heavily “i didn’t even think, i just went at him. his lads got scared and left, but i knew who they were and whenever i saw them i just beat the fuck out of them for laughing at what he said. that’s what happened tonight. they all deserved it for fucking with you so im not gonna say sorry for giving them what they deserved.” 

“you got hurt though”

 “i’d get beat to the brink of death to defend you and make sure you're safe. i couldnt give a fuck less if i get hurt”

 “but i do theo, i give a fuck!” i yell, my voice cracking while my tears start to well. his eyes widen, bringing me into a hug. his arms squeeze around me and i am home.  

“smettila di piangere amore mio” (stop crying my love).”he whispers.

”i dont even know what that means” i muffle against his chest. his hands soothing me, leaving a trail of heat on their wake. 

he chuckles, “why are you crying?” 

i dig deeper into his chest, “i don’t want you to hurt. i don't want you bruised. i just want you to be okay. i get stressed whenever i think about you in any state of harm and it hurts my heart. i don't care what they were saying about me. they don't matter. you do” 

i feel his lips on my forehead. “i care what they say about you. they cant just speak ill of what's mine. especially you, piccolo”. theo moves his arms to wrap around my waist once again. finding solace against him, i wrap mine around his shoulders. with instinct, theo starts to lift me and my legs find shelter around his hips. the bottom of the short black dress i wore to the party is surprisingly not exposing me, but i feel one of his hands position right under my thighs to stabilize myself against him as he moves us to his bed. he sits down against the headboard, now making it so i am sitting/laying atop him, arms still wrapped around his shoulders. “look at me” he whispers. i shake my head. “tesoro, look at me.” i sigh, tilting my head to comply. my eyes reach his, except they don't meet mine. i am looking at his eyes, while he is looking down, at my lips. i breathe shakily, and he copies.

 “fuck it” and with that, he kisses me, and i am in heaven. he grabs my face, and i feel every emotion theo is feeling right now. All for me. 

the kiss is sweet, not rough, like everything theodore nott embodies. theodore nott loves me, and i love him. and not like how best friends love each other. like real lovers do.

theo pulls away panting, and i open my eyes to meet his. “i love you piccolo. i love you and i won't let anyone speak of you like that. ever.” my heart swells at his confession.

“ i love you too theo.” i pause, then smirk. “if you really loved me, you wouldn’t get into more fights.” 

ha, now he's backed in a corner. 

my celebration is quickly turned into surprise as theo flips us, and my back collides with the soft mattress of his bed. he is leaning over me now,smirking, and my brain stops working. “shut up and let me kiss you as my apologies, i can get yelled at later. i want you now.” and so he does, and so i forget why he was in trouble. i just focus on his sweet lips on my lips, and i am euphoric.

[bitchface24-7]

HIS CONCUBINE(S) - VIKTOR X READER + JAYCE

synopsis: you followed Viktor to Zaun as he heals the ill and hurt from their pain. You’re his best friend, one of his partners, and now you’re a concubine. You're also Viktor’s right hand, the second leader of the commune. You couldn’t ask for a better life.

warnings: suggestiveness, getting walked in on, persuasion (damn, there goes this timeline), Grammarly is my beta

genre: m/f or m/m (+ Jayce 😏)

p.s. again, this came up in conversation with @darlingmel (they changed their user) our convos are wild. If anyone wants to chat and fan girl/boy about arcane and our lovelies, I'm all for it :)

This wasn't expected. Everything that occurred before this very moment wasn't expected. But it’s nothing you'll ever complain about.

You two have built a commune, a safe haven for the people of Zaun. As Viktor heals them of all illness, aches, and pains. He's all powerful, he's kind, he's inspiring.

He's yours.

When he left the lab you secretly followed him. He caught you, obviously and quietly asked, “Why’d you come with me?”

You easily replied, “Because you need me.”

And he didn't refuse. He didn't deny it, and with that, you two made a safe spot for people who just want to live their lives in peace.

Viktor's changed a bit, but you still love him. It’s a bit staggering sometimes, but when it’s just you two it’s like nothing changed.

Except for the fact Viktor is much more touchy now.

A hand wrapped around your waist, on your hip, a hand gripping your bicep, your thigh. His hands moving up and down your sides, your back, a hand casually placed between your thighs.

The two of you are showing more skin than ever before. Viktor with his blanket dress held together with leather straps and a pin, you with your loose bottoms that sinch around your waist and cover your genitals, your legs completely exposed, with a small loose top to match.

Everyone knows your importance to The Herald. Your place at his side.

Everyone knows you're his partner.

Your other partner is about to find out as well.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

The two of you are making out like teenagers in your shared space of the commune. Groping and caressing each other desperately, Viktor takes off your loose shirt and gazes appreciatively at your chest. He flicks a nipple and you gasp in pleasure, he can’t help but smirk at you.

“So sweet for me, so needy. So perfect.”

You grind your hips against his and appreciate his body, his smooth purple skin, the metal bits attached to him, his tiny waist, his long hair.

The two of you are so consumed in each other that you don't hear someone enter your space, until you hear a gasp and a massive crash.

The two of you pull away quickly and look to the side, and see someone you didn't think you’d ever see again; it’s Jayce.

And he's gapping at the two of you.

“Jayce, you came.” Viktor states, his voice smooth and happy. You look to Viktor and he nods as you get off his lap, his handmade gown undone and pooling at his tiny waist; his chest bare for the world to see.

You casually walk to Jayce, the only part keeping you modest being your loincloth. Your chest is exposed, your jewelry tinkling as you walk to your other partner, the one you thought despised you two. The one you thought was lost to you two.

“Jayce, you’re here! I never thought I'd see you again!” You exclaim as you rush up to hug him. He's dirty, smells a bit off, and looks exhausted.

He's still handsome.

He slowly hugs you back and you feel him shiver as your shoulder gets wet. Oh… he's crying.

That won't do.

“Come with me, let's get you cleaned up.” You say sweetly as you guide him out of the commune, slowly tying your top back on. Jayce looks over his shoulder to stare at Viktor, who just lightly smiles at him and nods softly, “Go. I will be right here when you come back.”

Jayce goes without a fight.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

You hum as you set the bath up, steam slowly spreading across the room. The scent is nice and light, a bit sweet as well. A nice mix of lavender and vanilla.

Jayce slowly undresses and hesitates when removing his leg brace, you help him and guide him into the warm fragranced water. He groans as he sits and appreciates the warmth of the water, helping his sore muscles.

“Do you need any help at all?” You ask quietly as you watch Jayce carefully, he looks at you and his lips thin in contemplation. “I can wash my own body. I'd need help with my back and hair though.”

You nod and hand him the soaped up cloth as he washes his arms, you get a cup and fill it with water, asking Jayce to tilt back his head; he does it easily.

A lathered hand of shampoo starts to massage his head and Jayce whines, pushing back into your hands, your eyebrows furrow, “What happened to you Jayce? You're different…”

“I’m fine.”

“No, you're not. You're tired, you're hurt, you're leaning into my touch like a cat appreciating the sunlight.”

Jayce sighs sadly, “I don't know. I fell into a cave, my hammer fell onto my leg, I felt like I was going insane.”

You quietly look at him as you rinse the shampoo out of his hair, adding conditioner, and taking the rag to wash his back as Jayce just sits there.

The silence is broken by a whisper, “What is this place?”

“This is a commune for peace. To be healed, cared for, to be hidden from the war.”

Jayce inhales sharply and looks to you over his shoulder as you rinse his back, “What do you all do here? I saw a garden and… a forge.”

You smile as you tilt his head back and clean his hair one last time, “We’re self-sufficient. We cleansed the soil for prime gardening, and we make everything ourselves.”

“Why a forge?”

“Because we miss you Jayce. We love you, and we wanted a reminder of you; even when you're not here.”

Jayce’s exhale is choppy at your statement, “You two looked pretty cosy.”

You laugh at his indignant tone, “No need for jealousy Jayce, there's only two people Viktor wants by his side, and the other finally came to us.”

Jayce looks at you like a kicked puppy as you lightly kiss his cheek, “Time to change your clothes. I won't let you wear those dirty rags anymore. Its time you experience some comfort after what you've been through.”

Jayce lets you dress him up like a doll without fuss before leading him back to the commune.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Viktor truly hasn't move from his spot. He only gets up when he sees you and Jayce. He sashays toward you two.

“Come, relax. I believe a long sleep is what you desperately need Jayce.”

Jayce huffs a laugh as Viktor puts a hand on his shoulder, slowly crawling up to cup his nape. Running his fingers at the back of his head. Your hand is still clasped into one of his.

He slumps into the bed, and damn near passes out in milliseconds. His eyes peer open as you and Viktor take a spot on each side of the exhausted man.

Viktor is carding a hand through Jayce's hair as you trace his face lightly with the pads of your hand, dragging them down his neck and chest.

Jayce sighs in content as you two take care of him. He's needed this, desperately.

“Sleep Jayce.” Viktor quietly states as he plays with his hair, “We’ll be here when you wake up.” You sweetly add as you look to your other partner.

Jayce's eyes slowly shut as his breath evens out, the two of you don't stop lightly touching him until you're certain he's asleep.

“He came.” You quietly say, your voice tinged with awe. Viktor smiles lightly at you, “He did.”

“He’s staying.”

“He is.” Viktor consents to your demanding tone. As if he'd let Jayce leave. He's his other partner, he won't let him out of his sight.

Hopefully Jayce complies.

If not... You'll make him.

He belongs to the two of you after all.

😏😏😏 oh to be Viktors concubine as he's the herald.

p.s. Your outfit is inspired by Chel’s from “The Road to Eldorado” (2000)

[willyoubemycherryy]

What I hear now… (Salesman x reader)

Summary: Piano strings thrum in place of the ones belonging to your heart; playing a requiem for feelings that were never supposed to bloom or even make it.

Contains: angst, hurt, longing, conflicted feelings, music, confusion, he likes you in a way that isn’t homicidal and struggles to deal, you’re just emotional, fear and hopelessness with a few flickers of comfort

A/N- this is how I’m coping with TikTok being banned. I miss everyone so much right now. Cried writing this so I’m sorry.

｡ ˚ ︶︶✩︶︶‌ ₊ ˚ ︶︶✩︶︶‌ ｡˚ ｡ ˚ ︶︶✩︶︶‌ ₊ ˚ ︶︶

This was new.

Tentative breaths shake the atmosphere of the unfamiliar space as you try to quietly adjust. You don’t even remember how you got here, to his apartment but here you are. It’s comfortable, furnished and organized with monochromatic colors and a piano in the middle of the large space and that’s when you remember.

You’d asked him after one of your trysts if he had any secret talents. The question- like you- was unusual but he answers out of the barb-teethed fondness he’s grown for you.

“I’m quite good on the piano.”

Your eyebrows shoot to your hairline at the unexpectedness and you wonder if anyone who’s ever known him knows about his hidden gift.

“You’ve gotta play for me one day.” It’s the first time he’s heard that word without any of the usual foreboding. Play. He can’t recall the last time he ever has in such a meaningful way. He surprises himself by agreeing, nodding with one of his pretty disarming smiles.

“Sure. Maybe I’ll even sing for you too.”

And that’s how you got here. Laying on plush carpet as you lean up on your elbows, next to the large piano as you watch the man sitting at its keys. He’s in a simple dress shirt with the forearms rolled up, black slacks and grey socks. Less put together as strands of hair fall in his face but still beautiful and you feel your heart ache. He shuffles closer before glancing down at you, smiling with the side of his mouth then turning back to the instrument. Seconds later music fills the quiet space around you, stopping your heart before it jumps to your throat as your recognize the melody from the first few notes alone.

He hears your gasp and knows you know exactly what song he’s playing but he doesn’t stop to taunt you- instead he keeps playing. Notes growing in volume then tempo as they spin over each other, cascading in and out of depth before they descend. You go still with wide eyes as you listen, lips shaking from the onslaught of sudden emotion and you swear you hear the words as he shatters your defenses with sure, precise fingers on ivory keys; leaving you bare in all the ways that matter and it’s as mesmerizing as it is heartbreaking.

It was a dangerous dance feeling what you’re feeling for him because he was so limited in both heart and character.

You still didn’t even know what he did for a living but you became familiar with him anyways, what was a fun convenient thing bled into something more with each time he sought you out.

The quiet life you maintained was like a soothing balm to the mangled parts of him he’d given up on healing years ago; accepting that he was just too far gone.

But then there was suddenly you. Scolding him on the train that he “shouldn’t bully the misfortunate” or else one day he’d wake up ugly and even agreeing to play one of his games only the beat him the first and only time you did, refusing to entertain him. Sticking your tongue out at him before getting off at your stop.

“Not hot shit now are you? Dirtbag…”, glaring with a curled lip as you walked off. Maybe it was then. You picked an issue with him not for profit but to stand up for someone you didn’t even know and he couldn’t wrap his head around it. So, he settled for his arms instead and you were nice but nicer when he was nice too and it gave him a glimpse into the other side of life. One he’d never given a thought to.

Yes; he might be able to live with you one day but he could never stay and you could never know why. He refused to drown you in the heavy blood of his world.

When he winds the chorus back, and you find yourself close to tears as you listen to each key; phantom lyrics ringing in your ears.

“I used to hear a simple song,

That was until you came along.

You took my broken melody-

and now I hear a symphony.”

You close your eyes to stop the water because when it rains it pours and against everything, unfortunately- you like him.

The final string of notes soften their crescendo as the song ends and silence fills the space once again. Even with the music gone, you still feel like crying.

He really was quite good on the piano.

You can’t keep your eyes closed forever though but when you open them, he’s already looking at you and your misty eyes, cooing at the tremble in your bottom lip.

“Aw. You’re sensitive to music too-?” You ignore the flippancy in his tone as you cut him off, voice small when you throw caution to the wind for the comfort you so desperately need right now before you fall apart wanting to keep something that was decaying.

“Can I please have a hug?”

Your request shocks him enough to knock his usual ever-present grin off his face for a minute before he wordlessly slides down to where your sitting on the floor, watery eyes firmly fixed onto the carpet before he pulls you into his lap, wrapping you in his arms and you stiffen before melting into him with a sigh, burying your head in his chest.

He doesn’t say anything. If he did, it would end in disaster because he’s never comforted anyone honestly in his life. He could’ve ignored you but he found he didn’t want to, instead he let you need him- wanted you to need him as he consoled you.

You were so unlike him. So different from the strife he normally caused and he wasn’t sure what to do.

“If I knew it would’ve upset you so much, I’d have said something pointless like solving a rubix cube.” You snort at that and the sound gives him a strange sense of relief.

“It’s fine, I’m not upset so don’t worry. It’s not like you.” He stays silent because he knows. He knows any kind of concern that comes from him is abnormal but it’s you.

“Getting soft on me-“

“I could make you cry again if that’s what you’d prefer?”

You two bicker way too casually for the amount of gaps in your relationship but somehow it fits, driving you to settle into him more with a deep breath, enjoying his scent. Neither of you knew what was going on but you’d cross that bridge when it got to burning. For now though;

“You can do that later but let’s just stay like this for a little while longer?”

“….”

“..alright.”

[matthewtkachuk]

somehow still stuck on you

navigating the realities of your post break up friendship with quinn is exacerbated by how much you’re not over him

pairing: quinn hughes x reader

warnings: a bit of exes to lovers angst

word count: 2.4k

a/n: hi @boqvistsbabe i’m your fic exchange writer, i’m sorry for the wait but i hope you enjoy!! i was feeling mad regret over not signing up for the fic exchange so when @wyattjohnston asked if i wanted to step in as a pinch hitter i said duhhhhh. this is as much a love letter to vancouver in late july as it is a quinn fic

Quinn’s back in Vancouver. 

It’s not exactly revolutionary given the millions of dollars and the capital C handed to him by the Vancouver Canucks, but it is noteworthy given the timing.  

Training camp doesn’t start for another month, which makes it highly strange for Quinn to be back in the city already. Last you heard he was having a Brat Summer in Michigan. 

Not that you were keeping tabs on your ex-boyfriend-turned-just-friend, of course. It’s not a crime to click through the first five Insta stories when you open the app, even when it showcases how much fun he’s having without you. 

Although it might have felt like it when you were dating, the sun and moon didn’t rise and fall at the behest of Quinn Hughes. It was just easier to remember that fact when you weren’t faced with him—quite literally faced with a giant banner of his likeness leaving the Stadium-Chinatown SkyTrain station. The start of the regular season would be bad enough with his name on every one of your coworkers' lips. 

All this to say you thought you had more time before he re-entered a position at the center of your universe. 

Summer had been kind to you, giving you the time and space needed to move on and heal. Even with the colder than usual June, you’d managed to sneak away to Osoyoos a couple weekends with the girls. Your skin? Glowing. Your hair? Shining. Your thoughts? Totally devoid of one Quinn Hughes. 

Until you’d been swiping through the aforementioned stories and spotted one of your favorite walking spots in his story. Very much downtown Vancouver and very much not Michigan. 

It wasn’t a terrible break up and you’d been friends long before ever getting together, so it’s not unreasonable to receive an invitation to get the gang together for drinks and dinner in Gastown to celebrate the return of Quinn and others in your friend group to your city. 

The time and place all but guarantees you have no way of getting out of it, and truly you are happy to get together with everyone, so you have no choice but to react to the “thumbs up if you’re coming” message. 

All the healing and the positive thinking in the world can’t  stop you from dressing a little better than you ordinarily would for a casual hang or spending a little more time on your hair. 

You’re glad for the extra effort when you stroll in right on time. Everyone is loitering around the entrance, clearly waiting on an open table. It kind of foils your plan to slip into an empty chair, thereby avoiding the initial how are you hug train. Before you can even think of another way out of it, you find yourself being passed along from one friend to another until you reach Quinn, fumbling into a quick and stilted hug. 

“Awkward,” Sienna hisses but all you can do is shrug pathetically. 

You’re saved from much more embarrassment by the hostess informing your group the table is ready and you’re so grateful you could almost kiss her. The long table means you’re not sat immediately beside Quinn which is a blessing because you’re not sure you could take any more close contact. Conversation flows easily around you, the usual topics of work, families, and shitty roommates. 

Everything is going well until the conversation turns to Quinn’s summer in Michigan. The distance between the two of you isn’t large enough for you to miss the way Quinn’s eyes flicker over to you when someone asks him if he’s seeing anyone. 

It’s not fair the way your vision briefly turns to black, your heart constricting in your chest. The feeling of almost betrayal that floods your veins isn’t fair either—it’s been months since you broke up and you’ve been on your own fair share of dates. Failed dates to be fair, but dates all the same. 

Sienna is your saving grace in the form of a clenched hand around your forearm, hauling you to the bathroom with some fake excuse you don’t hear. 

“Are you okay?” she asks outside of the table’s listening distance 

You can only shrug pathetically, all words failing you now. 

She waits a solid three minutes before leading you back. 

“Crisis averted!” she declares when you both return, flipping her hair over her shoulder. 

The conversation has turned away from romantic endeavors, circling back to someone’s work drama. 

You get the sense that Quinn is trying to meet your eyes, but you don’t dare look in that direction until it’s time to leave. Your exit is hasty, the excuse of needing to catch the sky train in the next eight minutes excusing you from any further contact. In the sea of goodbyes, Quinn’s is the clearest. 

-

It’s not technically avoiding if your workload has you so busy you barely see your roommate, let alone your friend group, right? 

There’s a major deadline coming at work and it feels as though you’re wasting money on rent when all of your time is spent at the office. Wake up, work, eat, sleep, repeat. 

It’s easier to just mute the group chat, rather than be bothered by the buzzing of your phone. 

Easier until Sienna ends up bursting through your door after work using the key you’d given her for emergencies only. 

“This is an emergency,” she says before you can speak—caught red handed knee deep in an episode of Love Island UK and a tub of ice cream. 

Neither of you speak as she grabs a spoon from your drawer and burrows into the couch beside your pathetic cocoon. It’s born of burnout rather than heartbreak, but you’re aware of the optics of it all. 

“You’ve been avoiding us,” she says while some hot blonde cries in the confessional on TV. 

“Have not,” you rebut, unceremoniously pulling the tub of ice cream away from her so that she scoops up air instead. “I’ve just been so busy with work. I haven’t even had the time or energy to go grocery shopping, hence the ice cream for dinner.”

Her eyes flicker down to the tub in your hands but she doesn’t say what you’re both thinking. That there’s more to the unconventional supper than just laziness. 

“Come to fireworks this weekend,” she says instead, her motives for the impromptu visit finally becoming clear. “You missed last weekend and yesterday. I’m asking in person so you can’t ignore the group chat message like the last two times.”

“If I say yes will you be quiet and let me watch my show?” you ask. She nods emphatically, apparently proving that she can in fact be silent. Truthfully the festival of lights is a highlight of your summer, and watching the last two shows through other people’s stories isn’t your favorite way to view them. 

“Fine.”

She squeals and throws her arms around you. You want to ask if Quinn will be there, and the look on her face says she’s waiting for you to, but you don’t. 

At the end of the day it doesn’t matter if he’s going to be there or not. Exes or not, he was one of your best friends and will always be a major part of your friend group. There’s no separating the two and the sooner you get over it and everything returns to the way it was before you started dating the better. 

She doesn’t push any further, content to sit alongside you and soak in someone else’s love drama on screen rather than your own. 

“Remember a sweater!” are her parting words to you, notorious for always neglecting one. 

-

You forgot a sweater. 

It’s not until you’re sitting down on the 99 beside an old lady that you realize. You’re already running a little behind schedule and it would double your transit time to head back, so you settle into your seat and hope it doesn’t get too cold later. 

By the time you reach the beach the group is already together, sitting on a couple beach blankets lined up end to end. You spot Quinn’s unruly dark hair before you even realize you’re looking for him. 

“Look who finally showed!” someone says, and you roll your eyes as you drop down on the only spot available, right next to Quinn. 

“I’m at the mercy of Vancouver transit, we all know this.” You’d rather rake your naked body over hot coals and then confess your lingering feelings for the boy beside you in front of everyone you know than waste time in traffic and pay the outrageous inflated parking price on a night of fireworks. 

Quinn doesn’t tease you like the rest of your friends, and you wonder if he’s thinking about how the last time you saw fireworks together he’d driven. Or how he kissed you for the first time after driving you home from a different fireworks show. 

The late afternoon passes by with an impromptu game of frisbee that you don’t partake in—there’s way too many people at the beach for it to be enjoyable and you’re more content to people watch and gossip while picking at the charcuterie spread someone else brought. The active rest of the group seems to reach the same conclusion you had and someone breaks out Uno. 

By the time the sun sets, you’ve considered murdering both your friend to your left and your ex-boyfriend to your right. It’s bad enough you’re walking around with a still broken heart, now they’re ganging up on you with draw four cards and Uno reverses. The group is spared by the darkness making it too hard to play. 

If circumstances were different, Quinn likely would be teasing you about being a sore loser, offering to kiss it better until someone inevitably fake gagged and told you to get a room. 

Instead he’s silent as you turn your back to him in order to face the direction of the show about to start. The sea breeze hits and you can’t hold back your shudder. 

“Did you seriously forget a sweater?” Sienna asks. “I told you.” 

You spin around. “Yeah yeah yeah.”

Quinn is quick to pull off his hoodie, offering it to you with an outstretched hand. “Here.”

It feels too personal, too heavy, too full of implications and so you start to shake your head. “Oh, that’s okay.” 

“You’re literally shivering,” he says. “Take it.” 

It’s warm and soft and smells just like him. As you pull it over your head you’re taken back by just how right it feels. Like if you closed your eyes, you could almost pretend things were different. 

The train of thought is broken by the first firework, and you spin back to watch. 

The fireworks are beautiful and you sit in awe, ‘ooh’ing and ‘ahh’ing along with the crowd around you. 

Someone up ahead stands up to take a photo and Sienna has no problem heckling him. “Sit down!”

They do and you just shake your head at her antics. 

It turns out that sitting on the sand on a blanket isn’t the most comfortable position to be in. Mid way through the show, you find yourself shifting and leaning back to find a better way to situate yourself. In the process you brush your hand against Quinn’s, quickly pulling it back like you’d been burned. 

“Sorry,” you murmur over your shoulder, unsure if the blush coating his cheeks is just your imagination. 

When it’s over, you help everyone pack up and follow the group through the beach, quietly bitching about the sand getting into your sandals. 

Everyone starts splitting up when the sand gives way to pavement. Sienna lives close, within walking distance and she gives you a tight hug and heads off in the direction of her house. 

You’re turning away to start towards the bus stop when Quinn grabs your arm. 

Thinking he wants his sweater back, you begin to pull at the hem but his words have you freezing in place. 

“Do you want a ride home?”

Your place isn’t the exact opposite of his, but it’s also certainly not on his way home. Call it masochism, call it a desire to return to the way things were before you loved and lost, you agree with a quiet ‘yes.’

The walk to his car is quiet, and you resist the urge to ask him how much he paid for parking tonight, not sure you want to break the silence first. 

That silence continues in his car, at least between the two of you. Something soft and acoustic plays through the car speaker as the lights of Kits turn into downtown. 

When you get home, he offers to walk you to your door. Once, it was his way of making sure you got in safe. Then, it was his way of trying to prevent the night from ending. 

Now, you’re not sure of his reasoning. 

You get to the door, and he doesn’t say much more as you unlock it and step in. 

“Do you want to come in?” you find yourself asking despite yourself. 

He hesitates, hands in the pocket of his shorts. It kind of looks like he’s contemplating between stepping inside and running away. 

It makes you angry, that bitter edge of hurt you haven’t quite gotten over yet surfacing. 

“What do you want? You need to use your words, Quinn. Because your actions are confusing me!”

You have a very formulated argument prepared, full of evidence and conflicting actions—the result of hundreds of mini one sided arguments playing in your head since he’s been gone and since he’s been back. Arguments that don’t come to fruition because the look on his face is dangerous. 

He cups your face in his hands and presses his lips solidly to yours. You don’t even have enough time to fall into the kiss before he’s pulling apart. “How’s that for confusing?”

There’s no answer from you, not verbally at least. Just the momentum of you throwing yourself at him, crushing your lips to his. 

Words can wait. 

[revelboo]

Heels(Starscream) always had a special place in my heart, but more as a comedy relief character, but damn, your writing has actually made me feel bad for/love that dude. XD

I was the same way at first, but then I kept wondering why he acts the way he does and, well, you can see what I made of his character in the end.

Everything is Alright Pt 31

Starscream x Reader-lost

• This is the right thing. It hurts too much to be anything else. Your little hands shift on his palms, as he keeps you caged. More so he doesn’t have to look at you than any worry of you falling. If you start asking questions his resolve is going to shatter. It’s already so thin it’s fraying at the edges, but that dream has dug its claws into him and won’t let go. Not a possible outcome, a maybe, but an inevitable one that he can’t allow and it’s tearing at his spark. One good thing just for him alone, but he isn’t even allowed that.

• He’s quiet except for the faint sound of his wings shifting in little fits and starts, that little tell giving away that as silent as he is, his mind is busy as you peek through the servos caging you. It’s the frown on his lips that snags you, though. Not like he’s displeased, but something else you can’t put your finger on. Something is bothering him. He was like this when he left for the day, and now that he’s back, his mood is even darker as he carries you. He’d brought you outside again, but not for stargazing and that sense of something being off pulls at you. “Star?”

• That affectionate, little nickname rings through him and he almost shutters his optics. Because that just makes this so much harder. Servos flexing against you as he studies the overcast sky before dropping his attention to you as the breeze stirs your hair when he opens his hands. In the distance, thunder rolls. “Quiet,” he says, trying to keep his tone all ice when he’s anything but. It’s still not too late to turn back. Carry you back home where you belong. Be selfish again, because he needs you. Your little hands shift on his servos as he moves out of the woods and up onto a road.

• Isn’t he afraid of being seen if someone drives this way? You look around at the empty stretch of road, feeling an uneasy sense of familiarity. You know exactly where you are. Your car’s gone, probably towed away, but this is where you went off the road. Your fingers lift to that healed gash as your heart begins to race. The tree branches overhanging the road are broken and ragged where his wings had clipped them, the road surface pocked from weapons fire. It seems like a lifetime ago. Why bring you back here? “Starscream, what’s going on?”

• You cling to his servos as he bends and lowers you to your feet, holding on as he pulls his hand away. He can’t look at you, not while you’re staring up at him in alarm. Like you don’t understand, even though you must. Wings lifting stiffly, he forces his expression to empty, reaching for that cold indifference that’s been his armor so long. “Go home, human.”

• Your throat goes dry as you look up at those icy optics staring down at you. There’s no contempt in that stare, no bemusement. Nothing at all. It’s utterly empty and that cuts you clean to the bone, because he doesn’t care at all. He’d finally gotten tired of you? It’s what you wanted, right? A chance to escape, but you just feel lost. And as he turns and walks away without a look back, you can’t move. He leaps, transforming into that jet and it’s beautiful to watch even as panic paralyzes you. A rain drop lands on your cheek, the thunder lost to the scream of his turbines, your own cry too late. “Star?"

Previous Next

[n0vazsq]

Wildflower | FC43 x Reader

pairing . . . franco colapinto x reader

summary . . . You confront Franco about your past heartbreaks, and together, you two choose to move forward, healing in each other's love

request . . . kind of!

word count . . . 1.3k+

warnings . . . none!

faceclaim . . . N/A

alexavia yaps . . . well this took me some time!! hope you guys like it <3

taglist . . . @barcapix ,, @f1lover55 ,, @ilovebarcaaa (lmk if you want to join the taglist!)

. . . The night was unusually quiet, the kind of stillness that made the world feel smaller, as if everything beyond the dimly lit streets had faded into a forgotten dream. You walked side by side with Franco, the cool air catching on your skin, your steps syncing without either of you trying.

The tension between you had grown like an unspoken shadow, a presence you both felt but never named.

Franco’s hand brushed yours, but it wasn’t the touch that lingered, it was the weight of everything unsaid. His eyes, usually bright with mischief, were distant tonight, clouded with memories that didn’t belong to you.

You couldn’t help but ask, softly, "Do you still think about her?"

He paused mid step, his breath catching. The silence stretched out, but you refused to look away. Franco always had a way of hiding in plain sight, his heart buried beneath layers of charm and laughter. But tonight, the walls felt thinner.

"I don’t want to," he finally whispered, his voice almost lost to the wind. "But… she’s still there. In the back of my mind."

The confession hung between you, heavy with the weight of things left behind. You should’ve known better than to ask. Should’ve known that the past had a way of clinging to the present, like rain that never quite dried.

But you couldn’t help it. You had to know where you stood in the echo of someone else’s love story.

"I see her sometimes," he admitted, his gaze fixed on the ground. "Not in a way that I want to. It’s just… reminders. Songs. Places."

You swallowed the lump in your throat, the words of a song swirling in your mind. Did I cross the line?

"She was crying on my shoulder once," you whispered, the memory surfacing like a ghost. "That night in July. Before… before you and I."

Franco looked up, his eyes searching yours. "That wasn’t… it wasn’t what it seemed."

But you knew it had been. That moment had bridged the gap between you two, had drawn you closer in a way neither of you had planned. But it also left you wondering, wondering if you were a replacement, a chapter written to cover up the last.

"I don’t need to be reminded that you love me," you said, your voice trembling. "But I need to know if I’m the one you see now. Or if it’s still her."

He stepped closer, the space between you dissolving. "You’re not a replacement," he murmured, his voice raw. "You’re… you’re different. She and I let go. We fell apart. You know that."

"But it doesn’t feel like it’s gone," you whispered. "Not completely."

The streetlights cast long shadows as he reached out, his hand gently cradling your face. "I don’t see her when I look at you. I see everything I want. But I can’t erase the past. I wish I could."

His words were honest, too honest, and they broke something in you. Not because he didn’t love you, but because love wasn’t always enough to clear away old ghosts.

You wanted to be the wildflower that grew in the ruins, not a reminder of what once was.

"Valentine’s day," you muttered, tears welling. "I was crying in that hotel. I didn’t tell you why."

Franco’s eyes softened. "Why?"

"Because I could feel it," you said, the words spilling out like a confession. "I could feel that part of you was still with her."

He closed his eyes, as if the weight of it all was too much to bear. "I didn’t mean to hurt you."

"I know," you whispered. "But it still did."

The silence stretched between you again, but this time, it was different. The weight was shared, the pain no longer hidden. Franco’s thumb brushed your cheek, wiping away a tear you hadn’t realized had fallen.

"I want to put it behind me," he said, his voice low, almost pleading. "I want us to be enough."

You searched his eyes, looking for something you couldn’t name. "Do you see her in my eyes? When you touch me, when you kiss me, when you hug me… do you think of her?"

He shook his head, his voice breaking. "No. It’s you. It’s always been you. Even when I didn’t know it."

The wind rustled through the trees, carrying the scent of rain. For a moment, the world felt suspended, as if the past and present had collided and left you both standing in the wreckage. But there was something beautiful in the brokenness.

A wildflower blooming through the cracks.

Franco leaned in, his forehead resting against yours. "I don’t want to lose you."

You closed your eyes, the ache in your chest softening. "Then don’t."

He kissed you, and for the first time, it felt like a promise, not of forgetting, but of moving forward. The past might linger in the shadows, but it didn’t have to define you. Not anymore.

As the rain began to fall, you stood there, wrapped in each other’s arms, letting the storm wash away the remains of what once was. Maybe good things didn’t always last, but sometimes, the best things grew from the ruins.

The rain fell harder, each drop a reminder of how fragile everything was. How love, like a wildflower, could be crushed under the weight of a storm or bloom defiantly through it.

Franco’s arms tightened around you, his heartbeat steady against your ear. You held onto that rhythm, grounding yourself in the present moment, in the warmth of his embrace, in the silent promise that neither of you dared to say aloud.

"We can’t change what happened," he murmured, his voice barely audible over the rain. "But I can choose what happens next. And I choose you."

You pulled back just enough to look into his eyes, searching for the truth in his words. The storm had stripped away the masks you both wore, leaving only raw, honest vulnerability between you. It was terrifying, and beautiful.

"I’m scared," you admitted, your voice trembling. "Scared that one day, I won’t be enough. That the past will always be there, like a shadow."

He reached up, tucking a rain soaked strand of hair behind your ear. "The past will always be a part of me. Of us. But it doesn’t have to define us." His gaze softened, a small, almost broken smile playing on his lips. "You’re not a shadow. You’re the light that’s pulling me out of it."

The words settled into your heart, planting seeds of hope you hadn’t realized you needed. Maybe love wasn’t about erasing the past but learning to grow around it, like vines that twist through ruins, turning something broken into something beautiful.

"I don’t want to keep looking back," you whispered, your voice steadier now. "I want to build something new. With you."

Franco’s eyes lit up, the storm in them clearing just a little. "Then let’s start now."

He leaned in again, this time the kiss was slower, deeper, an unspoken promise. As the rain soaked through your clothes, you felt the weight of the past finally begin to lift. It would always be there, lingering in the corners of your story, but it didn’t have to be the ending. It didn’t have to be the thing that broke you.

You pulled back, breathless, and smiled. "Wildflowers grow after the storm, you know."

Franco laughed softly, his forehead pressing against yours. "Then let’s see what we can grow."

Together, hand in hand, you walked through the rain, leaving the past behind, step by step, heartbeat by heartbeat. Maybe it wouldn’t be easy. Maybe the ghosts would never completely vanish.

But you had each other. And sometimes, that was enough to turn ruins into wildflowers.

And maybe, just maybe, you were finally ready to bloom.

[esotericalchemist]

𝐏𝐀𝐂: 𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐧𝐨𝐰.

TikTok (Matrix of Destiny) - Masterlist - YouTube (subliminals)

Disclaimer:

This reading is for entertainment purposes only. Remember, you are always in control of your own life and choices. Take what resonates with you, and leave what does not. If you are sensitive to spiritual psychosis or feel overwhelmed by spiritual content, please prioritize your well-being and scroll away.

𝐏𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝟏

Cards:  9 of Swords, 6 of Wands, Justice rx, Knight of Cups rx, 3 of Cups, 4 of Swords

Okay so, I am seeing two scenarios;

Scenario 1:

You recently walked away from someone or something. This could have been an old friend, family member, colleague, workplace, or anyone or anything that no longer aligned with your values and standards. For some of you, the situation involved accusations or conflict. You may have felt deeply wronged, and no matter what you did, the other person refused to believe your side of the story. Perhaps they thought you had spoken ill of them to others, betrayed their secrets, or something along those lines.

Whatever the case, it brought you significant anxiety and a sense of hopelessness. You knew deep down you were innocent, yet you were still accused. After many sleepless nights, both figuratively and literally, you made the tough decision to part ways with this person. The reason behind their behavior may remain unclear to you, but this experience likely taught you something important: it doesn’t always matter why someone acts the way they do. What matters is that you respect yourself enough to walk away from toxic relationships and choose your own path.

There is so much positivity and genuine connection waiting for you ahead. Take this time to reflect on what this situation taught you. Rest, identify your boundaries when it comes to others’ behavior, and prepare to move forward. Whatever you do, don’t isolate yourself completely. Healing and growth await you when you open yourself up to new, healthy relationships.

Scenario 2:

There’s someone in your life with whom you need to part ways, but you’re hesitating. This hesitation could stem from fear of them or a fear of being left completely alone. For some of you, this person might be a friend, but for many, it could be a partner, parent, or sibling.

This person is highly manipulative and often moody. They remind me of someone who walks into a room and completely changes the energy, but not in a good way. It’s as if they drain all the positivity from the space. They are rarely honest, excessively temperamental, and highly manipulative. To the outside world, they know how to present themselves in the best light, but you know who they truly are.

You’ve likely confronted this person about their behavior numerous times, but they constantly deflect by playing the victim. Statements like, “Oh, I had a hard childhood; that’s why I’m like this,” or, “I didn’t mean it like that… Nobody understands me,” are common responses. This leaves you feeling trapped and hopeless, as if you’re stuck in a cycle you can’t escape.

There’s also a sense of dependency here. If this person is a friend, you might fear being alone without them. If it’s a partner, you may rely on them emotionally or financially. If it’s a parent, you might depend on them for shelter or stability.

Here’s the advice:

If this is a friend: Walk away. It’s better to enjoy your own company than feel lonely while surrounded by others.

If this is a manipulative partner: End the relationship. Please don’t prolong your suffering.

If this is someone you rely on financially or for shelter: I understand it may be difficult to leave, especially if you’re still a minor or bound by cultural expectations. In this case, focus on creating emotional distance. Observe their behavior without reacting to it. Don’t let their words or actions affect you. Slowly, step by step, work towards breaking free from this dependency.

By taking these steps, I promise a journey of peace and rest is waiting for you. A better chapter lies ahead—you just need to take that first step.

𝐏𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝟐

Cards: 10 of Wands, Page of Wands (neutral), 5 of Cups rx, the Devil rx, Wheel of Fortune, Knight of Swords

Ah, pile 2… I write this with a warm heart and a smile because this is the “everything depends on you” pile.

Your childhood was marked by responsibilities far beyond what a child should bear. You were juggling school, household duties, caring for siblings, helping your parents—managing far too much for someone so young. Instead of seeing the world as boundless, as children often do, you learned to see it through the limits imposed by these burdens.

This sense of wonder and innocence was overshadowed by adult cynicism—something that has no place in a child’s world but was, unfortunately, present in yours. Over time, this stole your trust—trust in the world, trust in the universe, and even trust in yourself. But trust is precisely what our inner child craves: the belief that everything will be okay, that tomorrow will come even if we can’t be sure of it, and that our dreams can become reality.

Instead, this trust was replaced by frustration. These limitations, both imposed by the outside world and reinforced by your own beliefs, made it impossible for you to truly connect with your inner child. You may have developed feelings of resentment—toward your parents, yourself, those around you, and even your childhood as a whole.

Lately, you’ve embarked on a deep journey of self-reflection. Perhaps you’ve done shadow work, meditated, read self-help books, listened to insightful podcasts, or simply spent time sitting with your thoughts. Whatever path you’ve taken, you’ve reached a profound realization: the past is the past. What happened, happened. What didn’t happen, didn’t.

Rather than spending your energy pointing fingers at others or at life, you’ve chosen to redirect that energy and walk forward on your own path. This is a monumental step, one not everyone can take, and you should be incredibly proud of yourself.

By accepting the past for what it is, you’ve freed yourself from the self-imposed limitations that once held you back. Like the Wheel of Fortune, you’ve realized that everything unfolded as it was meant to. The wheel turns, and while it sometimes brings us to our darkest moments, it always keeps moving, eventually leading us back into the light. What you do with this light is now entirely up to you.

You’ve decided to chase the light of your inner child once more. Maybe this means pursuing a career or study you dreamed of as a child. Perhaps it’s bringing a creative idea to life that once filled you with excitement. Or it could simply be spending time with yourself, nurturing the love you always needed but didn’t receive as a child.

Whatever this path looks like for you, it’s clear that you’re excited about what lies ahead. You’re stepping into a journey of discovery, a path where you’ll reconnect with your true self. And here’s the truth: everything you need to realize your inner child’s dreams is already within you.

The word itself, “inner-child,” reminds us that this part of us lives inside. You already have all the ideas, passion, and potential. If you’re worried about not having the skills, trust that they’ll come naturally as you remain fearless and ambitious.

Destiny and luck are on your side now. As you move forward, don’t let future setbacks limit you. You are a free spirit, and this freedom will carry you to places you never imagined. Trust yourself—you’ve got this.

𝐏𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝟑

Cards: the High Priestess rx, Ace of Pentacles, the Moon, Wheel of Fortune, King of Wands, Knight of Pentacles rx

Okay, pile 3, it’s time to get real.

In the past, you’ve struggled with feelings of jealousy or envy toward the success of others—and deep down, you’ve been aware of it. When you saw someone achieving their dreams, your mind may have spiraled into creating reasons to downplay their success, comforting your ego with rationalizations. But every time, you caught yourself and likely wondered, “Why do I think this way? Where are these feelings coming from?”

These thoughts don’t align with your true character, and you know it. So why do they surface? The answer is simple: fear. When you felt these emotions, it wasn’t about material things like money, cars, or popularity. No, what truly triggered you was seeing someone fearless—someone chasing their dreams relentlessly, working hard for their success, and not shying away from attention or the spotlight. You weren’t envious of what they had; you were envious of their fearlessness, their clarity, and their determination.

For a long time, you’ve felt dissatisfied with your life. The High Priestess Reversed and The Moon suggest you’ve been stuck in an illusion, believing that “better things will come someday.” But here’s the harsh truth: how can better things come if you don’t take action to make them happen?

Sure, you may have liked manifestation videos, created vision boards, or written out scripts of the life you want. And that’s great—those tools are valuable. But manifestation without action is just daydreaming. Dreams will remain dreams until you conquer your fear and start working toward them.

The fact that you’ve felt jealousy or envy toward others is actually a signal. It’s proof that there’s something within you—an untapped potential, a dream, or an aspiration—that you haven’t realized yet. As Carl Jung famously said: “Until you make the unconscious conscious, it will direct your life, and you will call it fate.”

Now is the time to confront those unconscious fears and insecurities. It’s time to take control of your destiny and steer your own Wheel of Fortune. You’ve manifested and dreamed enough—it’s time to act.

The Ace of Pentacles is a reminder that opportunities for growth and prosperity are all around you, but you need to seize them. If there aren’t any opportunities right now? Create them yourself. You hold the power to shape your own fortune.

True prosperity doesn’t always mean material wealth. Sometimes, it’s about being content with who you are and letting go of jealousy and resentment toward others. But before you can reach this contentment, you must tap into your inner strength and confront your shadow side.

The King of Wands and Knight of Pentacles Reversed offer guidance here:

King of Wands: Embrace confidence, leadership, and boldness. You have the potential to dream big and turn those dreams into reality—but it requires courage.

Knight of Pentacles Reversed: Stop procrastinating or waiting for the “perfect” time to act. Perfection isn’t the goal—progress is.

Use your dissatisfaction as fuel to move forward. Reflect on where your feelings of jealousy or envy come from, and channel that energy into motivation.

The journey ahead is one of hard work and self-awareness, but the reward is immense. You have everything you need within you to transform your life and chase your dreams. Trust yourself, confront your fears, and know that you are capable of creating a life you’ll be proud of.

TikTok (Matrix of Destiny) - Masterlist - YouTube (subliminals)

[scramblescrew]

Hey can I request uh....ancients with a y/n who finally gives up but ends up depressed? Like they usually lay there and do nothing and be basically a sad doll that needs lots of comfort?

((Sure thing, Anon! Here ya go! Sorry it took me so long! Writer’s block has been killing me

(TRIGGER WARNING FOR THEMES OF DEPRESSIVE TOPICS! IF IT IS TOO MUCH FOR YOU, PLEASE MOVE ON PAST)

.

.

.

.

Dark Cacao Cookie would start having a bit of an easier time realizing what you’re feeling. He had felt the same depressed, empty feeling when his son, Dark Choco Cookie, forced his hand and he was cast out of the kingdom.

But when he found out you were just laying in bed, usually motionless, he was concerned. He understood that you weren’t in an ideal mental state but you still needed to care for yourself.

Instead of having one of the citadel staff bringing you your rations, Dark Cacao did instead. When he unlocked the door to your chambers and entered. His heart ached even more watching you lay motionless on your bed, your chest slowly rising and falling with each breath.

“Y/N…”

DCC walked over with the food, set it down on the bedside table and sat down on the edge of the bed.

“Please understand why I had to keep you here in the citadel…the world outside of these walls would corrupt you…take what it would from you then leave you for dead. I couldn’t have that for you…I can’t lose you…!”

After a few minutes of silence, DCC sighed and laid down beside you, pulling you in close, and wrapped his arms around Y/N.

“Please know that I love you…even if in your eyes it doesn’t seem so…”

—————————————————————————

Scared. Pure Vanilla Cookie is scared when he finds to mindlessly and silently pacing the grounds of his kingdom for who knows how many hours and even more fearful when he catches up to you and you stare blankly and wordlessly at him.

His heart breaks at this as he pulls you close and hugs you.

“Let’s get you back to bed, you must be exhausted…wondering for so long isn’t good for you…”

PV helped you to your shared bedroom and let you have privacy to get changed into more comfortable clothing before helping you into bed and healing any injuries you may have gotten from your wonder.

After everything was settled down and you were physically well again, PV got into bed with you, pull you close, and started kissing your forehead and gently rubbing your back as you lay there.

“Please don’t scare me like that…I never want to see you hurt…”

_____________________________________

Hollyberry was excited when you had taken your stay in her castle, your new home, better than she had anticipated, you occupied her to events without complaint (maybe a bit of reluctance and though not very much), you started to give her small bits of affection like holding her hand and reciprocating her hugs even if you were still very reserved, but somethings were still worrying…

What she worried about was went you started having sudden outbursts of rage and berating her for getting to close. It was like flipping a switch in your brain at random and it was…SCARING your captor.

After leaving you be for a while and do research on what she could do to help you and came up with a solution.

That night she sat you down and gently hugged you, explaining that she understands that you’re going through a rough time and that she wanted to help you. She was going to set up meetings with a therapist and will let you roam the kingdom with less strict supervision. All she wanted was you to get better and to love her.

“All I want in return is your love…please give me your love, my dear…”

—————————————————————————————————————

White Lily Cookie understood… being forced to stay in a barely familiar place with someone who claims to be your lover but is actually your captor can take a toll on a cookie. So it was understandable that you would fall into a depression. One where you couldn’t sleep(understandable as White Lily Cookie made you sleep in the same bed as her), you refused food or drink much to her worry, and your memory was getting worse by the day due to the aforementioned symptoms and more.

It all came to a head one day when you…just stopped moving at all, you didn’t get outta bed, you stopped what little resistance you gave to White Lily Cookie’s attempts to give you affection. You accepted all the hugs, kisses and the cheek and forehead, accepted her cuddling you at night, everything. You just stopped responding.

After a thorough examination from a doctor that was called in (No, Pure Vanilla Cookie was not asked for help. He had his own darling to deal with), it was found out that your depression had gotten worse, to the point of you had fallen into a Catatonic state.

After this revelation, White Lily would try every day to get you to get up or even just open your eyes and look at her. But White Lily soon conceded and focused on being there for you, gently holding you close and letting you be her sad little doll…

“My sweetest doll…it’ll all be ok. Please just open your eyes..for me..?”

—————————————————————————————————————

Golden Cheese Cookie held you in her arms with her wings wrapped around your body. With what has happened to her in the past, Golden Cheese Cookie understands what it’s like to feel so empty and hopeless.

But you staying in your bed all day….something in her….BEGS…for you to get up again…

The next thing you know, you are subjected to bi-daily tests and a sarcophagus is built to hold you and keep you inside of it. It was built so only Golden Cheese Cookie could get you out if she ever wanted to.

And that was the hardest part, the easiest part was locking you inside. You didn’t really fight back like you used to, like you did when she first brought you to her kingdom. But that just meant you would be hers sooner…

Once you were in GCC’s digital kingdom, you felt the urge to get up, to walk around, to be free, much to Golden Cheese cookie’s satisfaction and joy. She once again hugged and held you close with her wings wrapped around you.

“It’ll be ok now…I’ve got you…and you’ll never want for anything, my gem…”

————————————————————————————————————

Im here this is here, it’s raw, it took forever- I need a nap (I pulled an all nighter for this request so I could get it out for you all😊) *Dies*

[drluvsick]

𝐎𝐈𝐙𝐘𝐒 — 𝐠𝐢𝐲𝐮 𝐭𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐨𝐤𝐚

you get injured and giyu blames himself, although, it’s not really his fault, is it? 📝 gn! reader. for @meowzfordayz 4.1k event! might redo this only because i don’t like how i finished it off… we’ll see! hope you guys enjoy regardless! <3

word count : 600+

𝙉𝙊𝙒 𝙋𝙇𝘼𝙔𝙄𝙉𝙂 . . . 𝘏𝘌𝘈𝘙𝘛 𝘛𝘖 𝘏𝘌𝘈𝘙𝘛 (𝘚𝘗𝘌𝘋 𝘜𝘗) — 𝘔𝘈𝘊 𝘋𝘌𝘔𝘈𝘙𝘊𝘖

“i’m sorry, this is all my fault— ” giyu’s voice shook as his hands trembled. with the snow piling down as the moments passed, you could easily mistake his tremors for being cold. but you knew better from his worried look and somewhat glassy eyes.

“giyu, love, it’s not. stop blaming everything on yourself.” you said back, your voice straining against the pain in your side from which the demon slashed at— blood oozing out as giyu continued to panic.

“if only i’d arrived sooner, this wouldn’t have happened.”

“it’s not deep enough to kill me, i’ll be fine.” you tried to reassure him.

it was all too much, the flashbacks of death, his recent dreams of you in their situations. but he wouldn’t dare break down yet, not while you still needed to be taken somewhere to heal.

he ran as fast as his legs could take him while carrying you bridal style and slow enough so that you wouldn’t feel extra pain from his rushing. he hoped that you were right, that the cut wasn’t too deep, even if it was close to a vital point.

he could see the building of a wisteria house a few minutes later (he’s never been so relieved to see one of these), quickly handing you off and waiting impatiently to see you again after your treatment.

giyu felt terrible. he felt like the worst boyfriend ever as he paced outside the door like a dog waiting for its owner to come home.

could he have prevented this? this wouldn’t have happened had you been paired with another hashira. he’s just that bad. he wishes that you could be with anyone but him, someone that’ll actually protect you and make you happy— not… someone who can’t get over his past traumas and can’t even prevent a demon from attacking you.

he cursed the demon for being stronger than any lower class one. it wasn’t an uppermoon, but a demon with a powerful blood art can be threatening even without some of muzan’s blood.

the sliding door opens, making giyu perk his head up from staring down at the floor.

the elderly lady there smiles, beckoning him to come inside to see how you’re doing, on the way as he’s walking in talking about how lucky you are that the demon didn’t get any permanent damage done. she leaves with a, “i’ll have dinner ready for the both of you soon.”

you smile at him when he’s in view, holding out a hand as he carefully takes it. he kneels down to your level as you sit up the best you can, ignoring his protests for you to lie back down. you give him a small kiss on the cheek.

“it’s not your fault. it would’ve gotten me had you been there or not.” you start off.

“how are you so sure about that?” he tucks some hair behind your ear, interlacing his hands with yours.

“that demon was bad at concentrated shots at one target. it’s better if there’re multiple people, hence why most of its victims were in pairs,” you shrug, “it’s my fault for getting careless, you had nothing to do with it hitting me. i got the job done in the end anyways, and i’m at least alive, aren’t i?”

he nods, kissing your lips. “my heart still hasn’t recovered. it’s like i’m still afraid you’re going to leave any second.”

you smile at him. “i’m not going anywhere.” you pull him closer, his figure hovering over your body as you kiss him again, a little more intimate this time than his fleeting one.

“you’d better not.” he says as you pull away, your head finally resting against the pillow again. you giggle lightly as his own small laughter follows, the only thing on the both of your minds at that moment being so far away from the pain and misery from the world outside, focused solely on each other.

overluvsick | please do not repost, translate, and/or claim my works as yours !!

[whatifitis]

♡ Good Riddance - FC 43 ♡

Summary: part 2 to this fic but can be read as a one shot! you and franco find yourselves tied by a string but it's hard to tell if its cursed or not. was it fate that brought you two to the same place at the same time?

Author's Note: this is absolute shit and i'm sorry i feel like everything i write gets worse and worse. feedback is always appreciated <3

WC: 2211

CW: angst, fluff, overuse of references, happy ending

Every lake here is frozen. Here you sit, in the middle of butt fuck nowhere, trying to get better. You knew you fucked up, big time. Seeing Franco so soon was a mistake. You hadn’t healed all your wounds yet so you still exploded on him. You knew all he wanted to do was be there for you and help you but you didn’t let him. 

You left your past life on the ground, trying to find who you were. You used to like who you were, but somewhere along the way you lost her and you can’t seem to find her again. Not only did you lose yourself, but you lost everyone that ever cared about you. You pushed them all away by being mean and unforgiving. 

You’re not sure if the work you’ve been doing to get better is working anymore. It feels like everythings the same. You're not the way you were.

It’s cold and windy out, leaving your nose bright red from the harshness of the air. You trudge through the cold, bitter snow and walk to a cafe that’s not far from where you’re staying. You come here every so often just as an excuse to get out the house, they also have the best chai latte you’ve ever had. 

You order your latte and take a seat in the corner. You enjoyed sitting in the furthest corner of the room, people watching. Watching as people came into the warmth of the shop, smiling as they took in the atmosphere of cinnamon and coffee scents. 

The bell ringing of the door caught your attention, your breath freezing from the sight. Franco, with a red nose as he tries to blow some heat into the palm of his hand. He’s holding the door open for someone, a blonde girl. When they’re both through the door, she grabs his hand. Their eyes meet and you can see it, some sort of spark. 

Sudden silence.

The girl is beautiful. She’s got long, blonde hair, blue eyes, and she’s thin. She’s everything anyone could ever want. She was that girl. You watch as their hearts leap in a giddy whirl. He could be that boy, but you’re not that girl. 

You’re not sure if you should stay put or try to sneak out of the cafe without being seen. But it’s too late. Franco looks around the store, his eyes stopping when they meet yours. It’s like you can’t breathe, can’t move, can’t think, can’t do anything. You feel frozen in time, watching as he gets dragged around a corner. 

Your feet started moving on their own, taking you outside, almost running through the snow. You kept running, refusing to look back at him. Refusing to acknowledge that the story of the two of you was officially over. 

So you missed seeing his face as he watched you run from him. You didn’t see him almost run after you. 

-=+=-

By the time you got home, you were out of breath. Your face was painted red from running against the cold winds. You closed the door behind you and leaned your back against it, falling to the ground until your legs fully gave out. 

What was he doing here? This was supposed to be a safe space. 

Your mind was reeling with thoughts so that you couldn’t keep up. You clenched your fists and tried to regain your composure. You couldn’t believe it. He was here. God knows why but there he was. Your heart falls through your body as you remember everything. How you left things, how you treated him. 

You’re a fool for having done those things. You spun and spun until you ran out of breath. You pushed and pushed til you exploded. You can never take back the things you did or said, you’re not even sure if you can fix any of it. 

Stuck on the floor of your flat, you feel a buzz from your coat pocket. It’s your phone. No one calls or texts anymore, it’s probably a commercial. As you pull out your phone to mute it, the name on the screen makes you pause. Franco’s name is there with a text, “why are you running?”

You weren't sure how to answer. You sat there, chewing on the skin around your nails before texting back, “you’re seeing someone, what does it matter?”

He feels a sting in his chest. Because yes, he might be seeing someone else, but he’s only doing that to replace your absence, the memories of you and the moments you’d spent together that continuously haunt his mind. So yes, it does matter. Because he can’t let go of you, no matter how hard he tries, no matter how many dates he might go on. At the end of the day, he always catches himself thinking the same thing: they are not you.

A minute passes before his fingers tap the screen, telling you “Can we meet, please?”

“Why?”

“I think we should talk.” “What about?”

“Can you stop asking questions and just say yes?”

“Fine.”

It was settled. The two of you planned to meet the next day at a park near the cafe. 

You were afraid of what would come of the meeting, considering the last went downhill pretty quickly. But tomorrow, the words unspoken will be shared. Maybe you could start fixing all the bridges you had burned. Maybe everything will be okay again. 

-=+=-

The night was spent tossing and turning, not being able to get much sleep. You were so nervous, you swore your heart was going to burst out of your chest from how fast it was racing. At a somewhat sensible hour, you got out of bed and got ready to meet Franco at the park. 

It’s not as cold outside today, you knew Franco would be able to tolerate this type of cold. He never really was a fan of the cold. You remember how he always used to complain about it being cold, even if the two of you were just in a movie theatre. 

You got to the park a bit early so you took a seat on a nearby bench. You watched as people walked their dogs, jogged by, and just enjoyed the morning sun. 

Out of the corner of your eye, you spotted a butterfly garden. It made you smile. Franco used to call you butterfly, and he used to keep a butterfly sticker on his phone case for you. 

The nickname came from your days in karting. You were one of the only girls so they called you ‘butterfly’. They always saw you as fragile and delicate. But in reality, butterflies were fierce as hell. Butterflies also actually try to eat humans, they just can’t because of their size. It’s quite terrifying but butterflies are bad ass is your point. 

Franco never called you a butterfly in a demeaning way though. When he first heard people calling you that, he thought it was because you were as beautiful as one. Leave it to Franco to flirt with you the second you two had met. 

Closing your eyes, you tried to soak in some sun and clear your anxieties. Until you heard someone clear their throat.

Opening your eyes, you see Franco standing in front of you. He’s bundled up in multiple layers of clothing as a motion to fight the cold. But it doesn’t seem to be working too well as he’s still shivering like your grandmother's ancient chihuahua. 

You stand immediately, “Hi”

“Hey”

“Uh, did you wanna sit or walk?”

“Let’s walk. It’s too cold to just sit.”

The two of you walk side by side. It’s silent for the first few minutes, just the noises from the people in the park fill the atmosphere. The silence between you and Franco isn’t as awkward as you’d expect it to be. It’s almost comfortable. 

It was Franco who broke the silence, “How have you been?” 

“I’ve been okay. Could be better but I’m here. How about you? How have things been?”

“They’ve been okay. I’m okay.”, beats of silence pass, “I think about you a lot.” he confesses. 

“Really? Doesn’t seem like it.” you scoff, how can he be saying that when he was on a date with a girl just yesterday. 

“I just started seeing her. I don’t think it will lead to anything.”

“And why is that?” you question. You doubt his words, that girl is stunning and definitely his type. You even bet she’s smart as hell. 

“She’s not you.”

You stop dead in your tracks, “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“It means what it means, y/n. I’ve tried to forget about you. I’ve talked to people, gone on dates with them and none of it rids my mind of you. For some fucking reason, I’m still in love with you. Through all the shit that’s happened. Despite everything that’s been said between the two of us. I still love you and I can’t seem to let you go.”

You feel like you can’t breathe suddenly. What the fuck was he on about? You said horrible things and you did horrible things. Things you’ll never forgive yourself for. Why is he here? 

“Why are you here? In this town.”

“There was a meeting with a sponsor. That’s where I met that girl you saw. She asked me out and I thought why not. But I can’t see myself living my life with her or anyone else. Not like I can with you.”

“Why me?” you ask, your breathing is growing quicker, nothing is making sense. 

“I think we made mistakes, a lot of them. But I think we can get past that and at least be friends again. If you’ll allow it. I’ve missed having you around and talking to you and just being with you. Everytime something happens, I just want to run to you and tell you but you’re not there.”

“Why? I was a complete bitch. I was mean and you didn’t deserve any of it. I ruined everything. All I do is ruin everything. Everything I touch turns to sadness. Why do you want me back?” you can’t breathe anymore. You’re pulling off your scarf and throwing it on the ground. Tears are filling your eyes and it feels like the walls are closing in on you. You feel your arms as they lose feeling and begin to tingle. 

Franco is by your side in an instant, helping you sit on the floor. He sits next to you and holds you close, trying to help you calm down. 

“Amor, breathe. Can you breathe with me please? Listen to my heart beat.” he tries and tells you, pulling one of your hands to his chest, above his heart. You try to focus on the beating of his heart, trying to follow his breathing. 

“I can’t breathe.” you barely whisper between sobs. 

Franco is quick to unbutton your coat, trying to help relieve some pressure from your chest. 

“It’s okay. You’re okay. Just stay with me, okay?”

After a few moments, you seemed to calm down. You’re breathing slower now, you can see clearer now. 

You turn to look at Franco, his eyes looking back at you intensely. He softly brushes a strand of hair behind your ear before softly tracing his finger along the side of your face. 

“I ruined everything.” you softly say. 

“You did not. I could’ve done better as well. It’s not all on you.”

“It was all me. I ended a friendship the day that I left. I was never the best to you and I can’t promise that I’m better now. I can’t promise I’ll stop making mistakes. I can’t promise to be perfect.”

“You don’t have to be perfect, amor. You’re already perfect for me. Both of us made mistakes and we learned from them. We’ll keep learning together. You’re not alone.”

“I’m sorry for everything. I’ll fix it and I’ll-” 

“Listen to me, butterfly. You can’t carry all of this weight on your own. You can’t take blame for everything when not all of it was on you. Let me carry the weight with you. Let me follow you til the end.”

He brings his nose to touch yours, begging you to let him back into your life. You’re not sure if you should let this stay buried, or let it happen. 

“I’ll never leave. And I’ll never let you leave again. Let me love you.”

His hand moves to hold the back of your neck, slowly bringing you closer. He hesitantly captures your lips in his. You freeze at first, doubting if you deserve to let him back in. If you deserve the man who wants to walk with you still. Linger on with you still. You give in, kissing him back, holding the side of his face. 

Franco’s other hand grabs your waist and pulls you closer, not wanting you to go anywhere else. 

The two of you are smiling into the kiss, close to tears. It feels like you’re meeting for the first time. And maybe you are. These new versions of yourselves. The ones that will not give up on each other, no matter how hard times get.

[maxidentscene]

healing

⚘ genre. fluff, comfort

⚘ members. ot8

⚘ synopsis. skz taking care of you after a hard day

chan gets you tucked into bed

As soon as you walked into the apartment, your heavy bags hit the tiled floor and disrupted the music coming from Chan’s room. He came prancing out, smile wide until he caught sight of the miserable look on your face

“What has you so sad, my baby?” He frowns, cupping your cheeks with his rough palms before bringing one to the back of your head, pushing you forward into his arms. “Do you wanna go out? I’ll treat you to dinner, we can go on a walk or go shopping, whatever you want.”

“I don’t wanna do much else today,” you mumbled into his shoulder, letting all of the tension today has brought leave your body. Now that you were in your safe spot, you could finally relax

He felt the way you melted and only nodded in response, awkwardly shuffling you to his room, giggling in the process at the way you refused to let go of him. Once you reached the foot of his bed, he gently pushed you down before fluffing up all of your pillows and tucking the fluffiest of blankets under your body

“This better?” His smile deepened when you nodded contently. Leaning down to place a kiss on your cheek, he left you to nap while he got back to what he was doing

lee know is quick to run you a bath

Minho disappears from your room without much of a word after you open up to him about how your day has went, and at first you felt a little offended. Then you were reminded of how warm and considerate he is when you heard the faucet creak on, the sound of water filling the bath

Once he’s back, he reaches a hand out for you to take. “There aren’t any bubbles but I dug out a bath bomb.” He leads you to the bathroom, giggling a bit to himself. “I think it’s a few decades old, though.”

The face you make at him pulls out a louder laugh and you feel your heart already getting lighter. Finally, the gentle heat hits your face as you enter the bathroom and you can’t help but get emotional

He’s quick to reciprocate when you wrap a lazy arm around his form, nuzzling your cheek into the material of his sweater. The two of you stay like that for a moment, basking in the fruity but peculiar scent of the exploded bath bomb in the water. “Thank you. What are you gonna do?”

“Look for an online shop and find some bath bombs that aren’t expired,” he huffs seriously, making your face light up with giggles

changbin offers the warmest of cuddles

Seeing you with a sad pout on your face has him thrown in a loop, his brain is scrambling for the perfect remedy. Finally, he settles with pulling you to the couch for a nice, long, well deserved cuddle sesh

“You’re all good here now,” he urges you to calm down, let your body mold on top of his as he runs a hand down your back. The scent of his cologne was wearing off but it still smelt so strong when you were in his arms like this. It was your favorite scent in the world

Bin smiled at the way you nuzzled yourself into him, a hand coming up to massage the back of your neck. It felt good to have someone to nurture and care for, he’s a natural giver and nothing makes his heart happier than helping you unwind after such a harsh week

“You smell good,” you sighed out, accepting defeat and letting your body rest onto his, planting your aching head into the crook of his neck and breathing him in. The long days felt doable if this is what you get to come home to

His chest moved with a hearty laugh, your head bobbing up with it. “I can’t stink in front of you!”

hyunjin cooks up your favorite meal

As soon as Hyune received a text from you saying that you’d be staying late, he got busy. He’s very observant and has caught on days ago that you were absolutely swamped with work and he finally gathered the ingredients to make you the most perfect dinner

This was something that he had planned out slowly but surely, wanting to get every detail right. If there was one thing that could throw Hyunjin off, it would be the fact that you were in a bad headspace. He just could not stand it

Determined to lighten you up a bit, he decided to do something special. Running around the kitchen left and right had proved to be quite the workout for him and he lost track of time

So, when you walked in only to be greeted with a sweet boyfriend who had stains all over his apron and his hair sticking to his sweaty forehead, he was shocked to say the least. Your body went on autopilot and dropped your keys to the counter, not caring about how he looked a bit like a mad scientist. “You didn’t have to do all of this,” you wrapped tired arms around him

A hand came up to stroke your head, you could feel his lips forming a smile against your neck. “Just sit down and eat,” he placed a kiss before playfully pushing you to your seat at the table

han plans the perfect movie date

He knows how slumps are, he knows how exhausting life can be and he always wished that he had someone to hold him when times were rough. When you came along, he found what he had been dreaming of and he wanted to reciprocate this warm feeling, so a movie date scheduled outside seemed like the perfect fix for your busy life lately

Like the genius he is, Jisung kept strict track of your work schedules and asked you to come over on the one day you had open. From there, he bought blankets and candles and gathered a projector screen from the company

You were more than surprised to find the cutest set up ever. Blankets and pillows scattered in the grass, candles lit to keep the bugs away, a fire on the side and a projector ready to go with a movie the two of you had been wanting to see

“Do you like it?” He asked with a nervous bite to his lip, sprawled out on the fluffy pillows with his hand stuffed in a bag of jellies. The effort that all of this took had your bottom lip quivering and you could only plop down right next to him, letting him secure his arms around you

You felt so lucky to be loved by someone as thoughtful as him. Han had a magic touch to him, it was impossible to not adore him

felix offers up a famous massage

Just like every other day, Felix is waiting on the other side of the door like a puppy ready to greet it’s owner, eyes scanning and heart beating with anticipation for the door to fly open. He’s eager to hear your laugh and see the warm smile on your lips, eager to give you a kiss and help you settle, eager to have the company of his favorite person back

But, everyone has bad days. You weren’t laughing and you weren’t smiling, the exhaustion was practically radiating off of you, and he wrapped his arms around you immediately. The first thing he noticed was how awfully tense your shoulders were, and that couldn’t slip past Lee Felix ever

“Hey,” he ran a hand down your back before letting go and gracing you with a gentle smile. “How about you go change into those comfy pants you like and lay down for me?”

You already knew he was planning out the best massage of a lifetime and you were far from disappointed, nodding your tired head and doing exactly as you were told. The room enveloped you in warmth and your bed caught your harsh fall as you flopped forward once changed

His gentle, small hands were on your shoulders instantly. Every rub and knead at your muscles helped you slip into a sleepy haze, mind finally at ease and guard down. This was your happy place, Felix worked wonders with his hands and you now understood why the team would never shut up about his massage skills

seungmin sits and listens to your worries

As always, Seungmin is an advocate for communication. He encourages you to talk about the things that make you happy or upset and listens with open ears. The current moment is no different as he sits you in his lap, resting his cheek against your shoulder as you melt into his hold and let everything out

“Everything about today was exhausting,” you cover your face with your hands and he sits with patience, fingers playing with your clothes and heart steadily beating against your back. “Just glad that I have someone like you to come home to.”

That comment fills Seungmin up with pride, a smile so wide on his face that his cheeks hurt. All he has ever wanted was to become the safest space for the one he loves, he wanted to tend to your needs unlike anyone else who has done so before

You go on about the little things that added to your poor mood and he hums in response, the soft scent of his shampoo dissipating every negative feeling in your body. You become silent and it hits you that he smells like home, comfort, and warmth. He feels like security, he is love itself

Leaning behind you, you plant the smallest kiss on his cheek as a silent thanks. He reciprocates with one of his own, sliding a hand up your back and bringing it back down

jeongin plans a small but powerful gesture

It was no secret that the last few days have been rough on you, work and social life both beating you down at once. Jeongin would sit in bed with you and listen to your venting, his heart heavy with want and need to help you feel better. Alas, a lightbulb went off and a plan began formulating in his head after almost a week of stressful days

Without you knowing, your boyfriend had picked up a few items from a few different store outlets, consisting of sweets and jewelry and self care products. They were gathered into the cutest basket with the biggest bow tied on the handle, Jeongin was very proud of it

The icing on the cake was a small bouquet of flowers, carefully placed on the table in front of the basket. These were paired with a handwritten note, one that took him a long time to write. This had been the most effort that he had put into making someone feel better and it felt so right to do it for you

He wished he could record your reaction to watch back on bad days, but he wanted this to be as intimate as possible. All of the work and time spent was worth the big smile on your face and the slight mist building in your eyes

He had decided that he would put his entire being into loving you and taking care of you once you pulled him into a hug. Of course, he laughed his breathy laugh and kept his signature smile on as he accepted your gratitude

[carlottawllms]

Author‘s note: I can’t believe we’ve made it to chapter 5 already. How has it been 5 weeks?? Wow.

I want to take a second and thank everyone who’s made it this far. I was genuinely worried no one would be interested, so thank you very much for sticking with me and this series. Love you loads!

As always, feedback is very much appreciated. And now, enjoy 🩷

You were glued to the spot as you watched Mason marching over to his front door. Anger and fury radiated off of him and for a second you were scared he would explode and scream at the woman neither of you had seen in months.

Mae.  

She attempted to speak but Mason shook his head before turning to look at you. “Go on in you two, I’ll handle this.” He nodded his head to his front door, his voice leaving no doubt that there was no way he’d have this conversation with his daughter around, so you quickly walked over and took the keys from his hand.

For a second your eyes locked. His were full of emotions – a mixture of disbelief that she’d had the nerve to show up at his home, hurt and anger – but when he smiled softly at you, your unspoken question whether he’d be okay was answered.

“We’ll see you inside.”

“Don’t you dare.”, Mason growled lowly when Mae tried to reach for Ellie the moment you passed her and much to your surprise, she didn’t put up much of a fight and instead retracted her hand straight away.

Mason waited for you to be out of earshot before turning back to his ex. The sight of her made him furious. In his eyes, she was evil personified. Not because she’d simply shifted all the responsibility onto him - and that really sucked - but because she’d let her little daughter down without a second thought.

“Again. What the fuck are you doing here?”

For a second, something like fear flitted across her features, but it was gone as quickly as it had come, but Mason still took it as a small victory. Mae folded her arms submissively across her chest and raised her chin.

“I want to see my daughter.”

Mason scoffed in disbelief. It took everything in him to not lose his shit then and there, but they were out in the open and he didn’t need to cause a scene and land himself on the front pages of the Sun and whatever other shady magazine existed.

“Only over my dead body.”, he hissed. “You’ve lost any right to do so the moment you signed custody over and got rid of her like you would some old toy.”

“Look, I get what it must’ve looked like for you, but I wasn’t in the right headspace.”

“In the right headspace?”, Mason couldn’t believe a word she said. “Ellie is your daughter. There is no in-your-right-headspace when it comes to your daughter, Mae. She- Fucking hell, you can’t just randomly decide that you’re not feeling like having her around anymore.”

Mae sighed and dropped her gaze to her shoes. Hadn’t it been for the circumstances, Mason would’ve felt bad for raising his voice at her, but after months of radio silence, her showing up unannounced cut open wounds, he’d thought had finally healed.

“Look…I know it was shit, but I’d met someone and after everything that happened with you, I thought I’d finally found someone who was serious about me. But…he didn’t like kids and I wanted a chance with him so-”

“So you abandoned your daughter for some guy you barely even knew? Knowing fully well that he doesn't like children and that you'd be leaving Ellie behind forever? Hell, Mae do you see how fucking selfish that is?”

“I deserve to be happy, too!”, she replied, and Mason could tell she grew more irritated by the second, not liking him exposing her like this at all.

“Being happy is one thing, Mae. Yes, you deserve that as much as the next person, but deciding to let your daughter grow up without her mother and making her question for the rest of her life why she wasn’t enough only so you could be happy is a level of selfishness I didn’t think anyone could reach. Not even you.”  

“Mason-”

“You abandoned your daughter. The tiny human who thought the world of you. Hell, you’ve been her whole world up until the day you decided to drop her off at my feet and never come back.”, he spit.

“Don’t you think I know now that it was wrong? That it was awful to just leave her with you? Jesus Mason, I’m not the worst person in the world, I just made a mistake, okay?”

“Leaving your daughter isn’t just a mistake, Mae.”, Mason laughed humourlessly. “Parking on a double yellow is. Or being late to work. But knowing that your action will hurt someone else and doing it anyway is not a mistake. It is a decision.”

Without waiting for her reaction, he walked past her to the front door. He just wanted to get away from her and this awful conversation that made his blood boil. And he felt like he desperately needed a hug – from you.

“Mason, c’mon. Can’t we at least talk?”

-

You heard the front door being closed the moment you came down the stairs. Ellie was in her room, playing with her Legos and you hoped it would keep her busy for a while so you could check in on Mason and if he needed anything.

Your gaze immediately searched for his when he came into the living room. The bridge of his nose was bright red, as were his cheeks and when he ran his hand through his messy hair and his eyes locked on yours, your tummy dropped.

His usually so bright and warm eyes were filled with a whirlwind of emotions. He looked drained…and sad.

“C’mere.”, you whispered, holding your arms out and it didn’t take him long to accept and fall into your embrace. The grip around your waist was tight; keeping you pressed flush against his body whilst he hid his face away in your neck, breathing in your calming scent. “It’s going to be okay, Mase. I promise.”

The both of you knew it wasn’t something you could actually promise, but it was the most reassuring thing you could say and from the way Mason hummed into your skin you knew he appreciated your attempt.

You gently ran your nails over his scalp, basking how his arms squeezed around your waist; his way of saying thank you without actually saying it and the longer you held him, the more you could feel his thundering heart slowing down.

“She asked me to talk.”, Mason admitted once he’d pulled his face out of your neck. “And I said yes.”

Despite your heart dropping slightly, you nodded slowly. You certainly had no right to feel disappointed he hadn’t sent her away with a no, but those last weeks; the way he’d become so attached to you and so touchy, had meant something to you. It had doubled the hidden feelings you’d harboured for him and whilst you knew Mae would always have a place in their lives, you couldn’t help but feel a little deflated at the thought of her being back.

“Oh erm…that’s good I presume.”, you said quietly as you flattened your hand on the back of his neck, gently applying some pressure on his tensed muscles. “It might be good for Ellie, you know? She’s her mum after all.”

“Yeah, I know.”, he sighed and you could see the conflicted look in his eyes. “It’s just…I don’t know if I should let her back in. Like I know she’s her mum, but- What if she vanishes again? She’s left Ellie before and…it sounds insane, but it hurt me too.”

“It doesn’t sound insane, Mase.”, you smiled softly. “Ellie is your daughter, it’s natural you’re hurt when someone does something like that to her.”

“So you think I should try again? Let her back in?”

You weren’t sure what exactly he meant with trying again, but you decided against asking so you simply shrugged. “It’s your choice, Mase. I can’t tell you what to do, but whatever it will be, I’ll support you.”

“You, my love, are the most amazing best friend I could ever ask for.”

Whilst it was meant as a compliment, your heart still dropped as his words were a painful reminder that his best friend was all you were to him; that everything that had happened hadn’t meant the same to him as it had to you.

“Forever and always.”, you whispered, not trusting your voice at all as you could feel the hot tears burning behind your eyes.

You’d kept pushing the thoughts away over the past few days; had refused to think about the two almost-kisses, but now you actually had to admit to yourself that you were indeed hopelessly in love with your best friend.

When you tried pulling away from the hug, you earned yourself an unhappy whine from Mason, who just held you even tighter to himself. “Don’t let go yet, please.”

You wanted to tell him no and part to protect yourself, but he sounded so vulnerable, you couldn’t bring yourself to deny him his wish, so you simply placed your head back on his chest; sighing deeply when you felt him pressing a kiss to your hairline.

“Thank you, y/n. I genuinely appreciate you and everything you do for me. Us.”

You just hummed and willed your tears to stay inside; not wanting to put more to worry onto his shoulders.

-

The days after Mae showing up on Mason’s doorstep were weird to say the least. It felt as if a lot had happened in a very short time and you struggled to come to terms with those new feelings and insecurities that came with them.

You weren’t used to feeling about Mason the way you did and you wished there was a way back to when you could ignore the romantic feelings towards him, but there wasn’t. Sometimes it felt as if your racing heart and slight jealousy consumed you and it made it very difficult to be around him.

Today was a different kind of difficult though. He’d messaged you yesterday and asked if you could stay longer so he could go and have that dreadful chat with Mae and as you really didn’t have any other choice, you’d agreed.

The thoughts of whatever that conversation could mean had been swarming around in your head for the whole day, meaning you’d been everything but at your a-game and on top of that, Ellie had decided that today out of all days was the perfect time to be moody. She’d thrown one hissy-fit after the other, wearing you down like never before.

So when you heard the front door opening, tears of relief welled up in your eyes. Mason being home meant you could go home and cry your sorry little heart out and hopefully feel better tomorrow.

“Daddy!” Ellie immediately took off from where she’d been colouring in – the book and Mason’s white table cause she thought it was absolutely hilarious. You watched him picking her up and throwing her up in the air a couple of times, laughing at the way she giggled like a maniac and said “Again!” every three seconds.

He eventually put her down and squatted to her size; his hands holding hers with the gentlest touch you’d ever seen.

“Daddy’s got something to discuss with auntie y/n, so I want you to go up into your room and wait for daddy to come and get you, yeah? Can you do that for me?”

Ellie nodded before taking off, up the stairs and into her room where the door snapped closed rather soundly. Something both you and Mason hated, but given the conversation ahead, neither of you gave a flying fuck and you simply moved to sit down on the sofa.

With his daughter out of the picture, Mason allowed himself to let the smile slip off his lips. He functioned around her – and you usually – but it felt as if he’d run out of energy to pretend everything was okay.

“How did it go?”

“Okay, I’d say. But it also left me fucking confused, and I don’t really know what to do.”, he admitted. You looked at him running his hand through his messy hair and waited for him to continue. “She said she understands that what she did was wrong and hurt us a lot and that we won’t just welcome her with open arms. She actually apologised for everything, not just leaving Ellie, but also for what she did to me.”

“Okay.” You nodded slowly, feeling like there was way more to it than what he let on and it worried you. A lot.

“I believe her, y/n.” Mason unclasped his hands to wipe them on his joggers. “I know it probably sounds insane because of how much it hurt back then, but she sounded genuine when she explained why she cheated.”

You raised your eyebrows at his words. “What do you mean explained why she cheated? Mase, there’s no such thing as an explana-”

“She had her reasons, and I really don’t want to go into detail cause it’s got nothing to do with you and I don’t think she’d appreciate me telling you.”, he interrupted you with a stern voice.

You weren’t sure if it was because he didn’t want to tell you, his best friend, what kind of bullshit Mae had fed him or because of the way it sounded as if he’d forgiven her for it, but the overall conversation started to make your blood boil.

“Mase-”

“She also said she understands that what she did was wrong and that she hurt us both in the process. She sounded genuinely sorry and she also wants you to stay in the picture for the time being cause you can provide Ellie with stability until she can take over fully.”

For the time being. You knew what this meant. Having been friends with Mae for years before everything went to shit had taught you a thing or two and one was that she sure as hell wasn’t keen on sharing anything, let alone anyone.

“It sounds a lot like her seeing me as an out, Mase.”, you said cautiously. “Like knowing with me being there, there’s backup in case she wants to vanish again. It makes it all easier for her, you know? Having her piece of the cake without taking actual responsibility.”

The expression on Mason’s face darkening visibly, gave you an idea where this conversation would most likely be heading. It was obvious that he’d believed what Mae had told him, but you had your reservations and despite it probably ending in a fight, you weren’t going to keep your worries to yourself. You just weren’t that type of person.

“And that’s where you got it all wrong. She knows I won’t let her back into Ellie’s life as if nothing ever happened, but she wants what’s best for her and for now, that’s you.”

“Mason, I’m not saying she doesn’t want what’s best for Ellie, I’m just-”

“She also said she misses me and that she still loves me.”

It was as if he’d dropped a bomb. From one second to the other it was deadly silent in the living room. The oppressive silence settling over the two of you making you feel sick to the stomach.

She still loves me.

The sentence repeated in your head like a broken record.

She still loves me. She still loves me. She still loves me.

You could feel your own heartbeat threatening to burst your eardrums and breathing suddenly became increasingly difficult.

“I-”, you tried, but you didn’t even know what you wanted to say. “You…that’s…erm…Do you erm…you know…how do you feel erm…about her?”

Please don’t say you still love her too, you begged, but Mason only gave you a vague look. One that had your heart sinking further into your stomach.

You cleared your throat in an attempt to find some sort of composure; eyes fixed on your hands. “I erm…I think you should maybe take a few days to let it all sink in, you know? And then see where it takes you and what you feel like doing. It's always difficult to think clearly and not act rashly so soon after a conversation like that and-”

“She kissed me when I was about to leave.”

You’d been confused before, confused and overwhelmed by everything had happened those last couple of days and weeks, but this information had now drawn you into a maelstrom of emotional overload. You could feel the tears burning behind your eyes, but you tried your best to hold them back.

“Mase…I…this is a lot.” You couldn’t help but stumble over your own words. “Don’t tell me you kissed her back.”

Mason drew his brows together in a frown causing you to want to slap yourself. You hadn’t meant for it to sound so reproachful; hell you hadn’t meant to say it out loud in the first place.

“Why does it matter?” His voice had dropped low, a telltale sign that he was getting angry, but you knew that ship had sailed a while ago and it wouldn’t take long for him to lash out.

“You’re just my best friend, you have no right to judge me for whether or not I kissed my ex. If anything, it makes you look quite pathetic.”

“Mase, I just-”

“Are you jealous?”, he laughed mockingly. “Don't be ridiculous, y/n. Or is it that you’re selfish? Huh? Trying to keep me away from Mae because you want Ellie and me to yourself? Newsflash, y/n, you’re ju-”

“I just know how much you hurt after everything she did, Mason.”, you whispered in an attempt to stop him from saying something you knew he’d regret later. Something you wouldn’t survive hearing after everything. “I just…I’m worried about you. I’m your best friend, it’s my job to worry, but if you don’t like me trying to protect you, then maybe you should figure this out on your own.”

Angrily you wiped the tears that had started to fall during his outburst. You hated how he could make you feel like shit with just a few words, and you refused to stay in his presence for another minute, so without bidding goodbye you simply put your shoes on and rushed to your car.

[queen-of-the-avengers]

500

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~2.2k

Warnings: angst

Summary: You're given a gift that will allow you to help others. You try to use this gift for good and you never make anyone feel like a charity case. However, when you meet Bucky Barnes, you know you have to do something or he'll live the rest of his life in pain.

Squares Filled: graveyard (2021) for @buckybarnesbingo

Author’s Note: any and all comments are greatly appreciated <3

x

The thing you love most about New York is not everywhere is like the city. If you travel far enough outside of it, it turns into any normal town like any other state has. You’re on your way to visit your parents at the New York State Veterans Cemetery since your father was a soldier in World War II. Your mother requested to be buried alongside him even though she was never in the military, and they let her.

It’s a four-hour drive from the city where you live, so you take this moment to yourself and think about your purpose on Earth. About once a month, you get like this because you’re not normal. You were born with the ability to see people’s pain above their heads in numbers ranging from zero to sixty. One is not in any pain at all and sixty is the worst pain a person can be in.

You’ve been to plenty of hospitals around New York, so you’ve seen people who are in a tremendous amount of pain, but no one has ever been above sixty. You’ve been on this Earth for thirty-three years and never have you seen someone with a sixty-one above their head. Why were you born with this ability? You’re not sure but you know you can do a whole lot of good with it. 

It’s why you became a licensed therapist as well as a social worker. You take on jobs that will help as many people as you can. While you can’t heal anyone physically like a nurse or a doctor, you can help with their emotional and mental trauma which is where most of the pain lies. You’re the only person without a number above your head but it’s likely your powers don’t work on you.

You look at the taxi driver and see the number twenty-five above his head. He’s seen some stuff in his life, that’s for sure. He must be a taxi driver to get away from it all, to just coast through life without having to deal with a lot of stress. You’re guessing but it’s not like you’re going to ask the man what kind of trauma he’s been through in his life.

He drops you off at the cemetery and drives away once you’ve paid him. You like to spend hours with your parents and tell them all that you’ve seen and the people you helped, and that usually takes a few hours at the least. You clutch your mother’s favorite flowers and walk into the cemetery, keeping your head down out of respect.

You sit down right across from their graves and break the bouquet into two so both your parent can have flowers.

“I helped a teenager last week escape his abusive parents,” you begin. “They didn’t care about him and often used him as an outlet for their rage. His pain was at a thirty. Thirty. At age fifteen. I went to go visit him in his new home and his pain was at a twenty-seven. He’s healing and I’d like to think I had something to do with it. I wish you guys were here to see this. It’s amazing to see someone’s number go down because of something I did.”

You look up and scan the area when you notice a man standing by himself near one of the graves. The wind is knocked out of your lungs and you have to brace yourself on the ground so you don’t fall over. The man isn’t saying anything to the grave, just standing over it. Above his head is a whopping five hundred. If you saw someone with an eighty, you’d be floored. The fact that this man has a five hundred over his head… how is he still alive? It’s clearly not physical wounds that hurt him.

Who is this man? Even the most depressed people never go above sixty. You once got involved with a woman who was passed around in the sex trafficking ring and she didn’t even go above sixty. This man has five hundred.

Five hundred.

He says something to the grave before leaving, and you’re too shocked to get up and follow him. What would you even say to him? He had to have been broken down to the very last piece only to be put back together. Over and over again. That’s probably why he’s at five hundred. You don’t want him to feel like a charity case but you have to know that man. To think he’s walking around in such profound pain brings you pain.

“Mama, I think I found someone who might need my help. I’ll let you know how it goes next week.”

Since the cemetery is four hours away from the city, you’re hoping that he is from around here. You spend the next several days walking around Central Park just watching for that five hundred to show up again. You know exactly who the man was. You got a glimpse of his face as he was leaving the cemetery, and you knew he’d never leave New York. This is his home.

You know who he is and after some research on him, you know why he has a five hundred above his head. The following Saturday, you’re walking around Central Park in hopes of seeing this man again. You’d like to think because he has a five hundred, he has his humanity back. He’s feeling the guilt of everything he’s done so you know he isn’t dangerous.

Two women job past you laughing at what one of them said, and you notice how one of the women has a two above her head while the other has a fifteen. Maybe the fifteen did something her friend doesn’t know about and the guilt is starting to eat her alive. A young couple is sitting on the grass with a picnic between them, and both of them only have a five above their head. They must be in love. An elderly couple walks past them with both of them having a forty above their heads. Guess love doesn’t always work out for people in the end.

Central Park gets around six thousand daily visitors, and none of them have a number above sixty. You’ve traveled across the country for your job and non one has ever surpassed sixty. Not until him. You walk further into the park where a cluster of benches are, and you stop when you see that thick five hundred number again.

There he is. Sitting all alone.

Now’s your chance. You walk up to him who barely acknowledges your presence.

“May I sit here?”

He looks up and sees the book in your hands thinking you’re going to mind your business and read silently. He doesn’t say anything but nods so you sit across from him and open your book. You pretend like you’re reading it when really, you’re looking at him from over the top of your book. He has gloves on his hands and it’s not wintertime yet.

There’s a reason why he is wearing gloves.

“My name is Y/N. What’s yours?” you ask gently.

“Bucky.”

“That’s an interesting name. Is it short for something?”

“My middle name is Buchanan. My friends call me Bucky.”

“Nice to meet you, Bucky.” You go back to reading only to put the book down several minutes later. “Do you live around here? Or are you visiting someone?”

“No, not visiting someone.”

He’s clearly not into the conversation but you’re not going to give up. He’s not another project. You’re genuinely interested in getting to know him. Sure, his number enticed you to want to talk to him but you’re going to treat him like you would anyone else. It’s going to take a lot more than one conversation for him to open up to you.

The next day, you find him sitting in the same spot with the same five hundred above his head. You walk over to him and don’t ask to sit down, you just do. He lifts his head and notices the book first before looking into your eyes.

“Hi, Bucky. Do you mind if I sit here again?”

“No,” he shakes his head.

Today, you let him get used to your company. You don’t say anything to him except for when you part ways at the end of the day. You want him to be comfortable around you otherwise, he won’t talk to you. Every day after that, you keep sitting across from him reading the same book, allowing him to feel comfortable around you.

“So, what’s your book about?” he asks on the fourth day of sitting across from him.

“It’s called The Maze Runner. I know, it’s for an audience a bit younger than me, but I love the movies. It’s about a young man who wakes up with no memory of who he is and is stuck with a group of boys who also have no memory of who they are. They’re stuck in this maze-like area and they have to try and figure their way out of it that no one has ever survived. There are three movies but there are five books.”

“Sounds interesting. I’ll have to read it.”

“Here,” you close your book and hand it over to him, “take this.”

“No, that’s yours.”

“This is my fifth time reading the series.”

“I can’t just take your book.”

“Then consider it a loan. Give it back when you’re done. Plus, it’ll give me an excuse to come and talk to you again.”

Bucky smiles for the first time since you’ve met him, and God, what a beautiful smile it is.

“Thank you.”

“Look, I have to get going, but here is my number.” You write down your number on a spare piece of paper and hand it over. “If you ever want another good book recommendation or the second book in the series, give me a call. Or, you know, if you just want to talk.”

“Okay,” he nods.

You don’t have to look back to know he’s watching you walk away. The next time you see him is a couple of days later. He hasn’t used your number which is fine because you don’t want to rush anything with him.

“Did you finish it?” you ask and sit across from him.

“Yeah, I did. It’s really good.”

“I brought the second one just in case.”

You two exchange the books and he smiles at you.

“Thank you. Would you like to go on a walk with me? Just around Central Park.”

“Sure.”

A walk around the park usually takes two hours if you’re leisurely enough about it, and there is no rush to go anywhere else. You want to ask Bucky a million things about his life and where he came from but you don’t pry into his life. You can get that information online if you want to, but you want this relationship to grow naturally.

Though, you’re not sure you understand why someone like him can be this sad about who he is.

“So, this might be a weird question but how do you feel?”

“Why is that a weird question? I’m fine.”

“It’s just… you seem so sad sometimes.”

“Honestly? There’s not a whole lot to be happy about these days.”

“You’re alive, right? That’s a pretty damn good day to me.”

“Yeah, well, sometimes, I wish I wasn’t.”

“Well, if you weren't, I wouldn’t have met you. I think you’re a great guy.”

“That’s because you don’t know who I am. If you did, you’d be smart to run,” he sighs.

“I know who you are. I know about the Winter Soldier. I lived in DC when everything happened with Steve.” He looks at you and uncertainty swims in his eyes. “It doesn’t matter to me. I’ve read about what you have done. Hell, I’ve seen it, but that doesn’t make you a bad person.”

“It doesn’t?” he asks with a thick voice filled with emotion.

“Come on, there are a lot of people worse than you like child molesters and rapists. On that spectrum, you’re not so bad. What makes a person bad is the fact that they know what they’re doing is wrong and still continue to do it. When someone wakes up and stops doing what made them bad, that’s not being bad. When someone is manipulated into doing bad things but doesn’t do those things anymore, that’s not being bad. I’m sorry, am I making any sense?” you chuckle.

“Yeah, you are,” he chuckles back. “Thank you.”

“Thank you for the walk but I need to go now. I have to get to work. Can I take you out? You know, a place that’s not Central Park? I can show you my favorite bookstore with books like The Maze Runner.”

“I’ll text you.”

“Great. I look forward to it.”

You start to walk away from him knowing he is watching you walk off. When you get to the busy street, you look back and notice something that brings a bright smile to your face. That five hundred above his head? It’s now at four hundred and ninety-nine.

x

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[clazaries]

Old Love, New Dream (NSFW)

(JonathanLevy! x f!reader)

Summary: Just when you think you've recovered from a debilitating breakup with Jonathan Levy, all those feelings come rushing back when he walks back into your life again as your best friend's boyfriend. w/c: a whopping 10.1k Warnings: angst, Mira is included in this, NSFW; smut, fingering, p in v, oral (fem rec.), eventual fluff a/n: HELLOOOO! I'm back. Sorry took a small hiatus to finish off college and I really struggled to finish the end of this so apologies if it's shit. I also watched a spanish film called a treves de mi ventana (specifically the third one) which I loved and took inspiration from while I was writing this. Anyway hope you enjoy!!!

Fuck Jonathan Levy.

Fuck him and everything he stands for. Fuck him in the past and fuck him in the future. Fuck him and the way he treated you with love in his heart, with stars in his eyes, and with you at the heart of everything he did. Fuck him for being the best boyfriend, partner and friend that anyone could’ve asked for. Fuck him for promising you that it would last forever, that you would always have him for as long as you live. 

Fuck him, especially on that unassuming Tuesday morning when you woke up to sadness on his face, pain behind his eyes and the truth on his lips. Fuck his ‘I think we should take a break, we need to spend time on ourselves, by ourselves.’ Fuck him for making you think that life’s not fair; because how were you to know that after six years of a strong and stable relationship, especially one that guided you hand-in-hand into adulthood, would be ripped from you in a day. 

Fuck him for making you miss him so, so fucking badly to the point where you struggle to get through your day without thinking about him. The countless number of occasions where you’ve had friends and family members tell you so naively to ‘move on’, or to ‘get over him’, or that ‘you don’t miss him, you miss what you had with him.’ 

And in all honesty, they’re exactly right. You can’t bear to reflect upon what could’ve been, so your only alternative is to miss what you had, and therein lies that problem of why he still subconsciously worms his way back into your mind. Because he’s tied to it, intertwined so deeply that he’s the knot you just can’t unravel. 

It’s not like you think about him purposely, in fact, if you had the will-power to compartmentalise everything associated with him into a box, you would lock it and throw away the key. But he left such an imprint on you that in the quietest moments of thought, his name, his face, his eyes and Jesus, even the memory of his scent appears when you least expect it. What’s worse is that they’re good memories, not the ones that broke your heart, not the ones that should be reminding you of how much of an arsehole he is, but the ones that you look back on with nostalgia. 

It took a long time to come to terms that he’ll never be a part of your life again, to shake hands with the devil and accept that he will always be the one that got away. That’s the part that will never leave you. He is the big gaping wound in your heart that will never heal. 

The best you could do was move away to another state, to start afresh with the hopes of finding someone new that could give you everything he did and more. But it’s proven to be a bigger challenge than you anticipated because your desire to find someone capable enough to fill the hole and let it scar has never been satiated. No one, not even in the three years since your break up with Jonathan Levy, has come close.

You had gone for such a long time thinking that this level of pain and heartbreak was exclusive to you only and that there was no one else in this world who could empathise with you. That was until you met your next door neighbour Mira who was shockingly similar to you in every way; broken from a relationship that ended years ago, desperately searching for something or someone to alleviate years of hopeless longing and the need for fulfilment. She was the therapy you always knew you needed and vice versa. There were many nights spent drinking wine, talking about ex-lovers with the same yearning, indulging in each others’ wishes of how they could relive what you both once had. Surprisingly, divulging each others’ woes became a temporary fix to your problem and soon missing him turned from a daily issue to a weekly issue. Now, he’s a quiet thought just once a month. 

But things started to change one night in Mira’s dining room when she announced something you hadn’t seen coming.

She’s got a new boyfriend.

~~~~

You sit there, quietly in shock, at her oak dining table directly across from her, listening as she talks of her newly-established relationship as if she had been blessed by all the godly-deities of every power and religion. 

“You have to meet him,” she says with a mouthful of spaghetti bolognese, “he’s just the sweetest guy.” 

A twinge of bitterness and jealousy has your stomach clenching. “Yeah? Where did you meet him?” 

“I’ve always kind’ve known of him, like, I met him last year when I was travelling for work, but recently we’re just really hit it off.” 

“Do you think it’ll turn into something more serious?” 

The lips of your friendly neighbour beam wider, a subtle coy sparkle evident in her eyes. “I would like to think so, I think we’re both in a really good place.”

“That’s great Mira, I’m happy for you.” 

“I was actually thinking about hosting a dinner with the neighbours, like what we used to do years ago, but I might bring him along this time.” 

“Wow, so really serious then. Must be something really special if you’re willing to dig up an old tradition just for him.”

She shrugs her shoulders. “Well you know, I miss those dinners. They were always so much fun. They introduced a lot of new things to us including you, and I feel it would be a good way to introduce him to the street too since they’ll be seeing a lot of him ‘round here in the future.” 

The Maple Avenue dinners were once the highlight of your week, plucked from a suburban neighbourhood’s dream. It was a tradition you inadvertently started when you first moved into the street, a way of getting to know the neighbours around you. Mira, being your next door neighbour was one of the first to receive an invite and was also the one to convince others to join. Surprisingly, the occasion started a chain of events where other neighbours wanted to host their own dinners, play games, chat and share their life over wine. It happened so often that it became a weekly ritual that you all cherished, until organising a roast for ten to fifteen people became too overwhelming, especially for those who had started a family, or who had taken a promotion at work. Having no such responsibilities, you and Mira became the only two to keep the tradition alive.

“I’d like that. Want me to get in touch with the neighbours?” 

“I’ll handle it.”

Two weeks pass and the Friday you have been silently dreading finally arrives. You had been prepared for it up until about an hour ago when you couldn’t remember who drinks white wine and who drinks red, who has an intolerance to dairy and who has an allergy to nuts. 

Spotting Mira’s open window across the way, you decide to lean out your bedroom window, hoping to catch her attention. “Mira!” Within seconds she’s mirroring you, her hair still pinned in curls and her body wrapped in her satin robe. 

“What?” 

“I was going to bring my roasted hazelnut cookies but I can’t remember who has a dairy intolerance and who has a nut allergy.” 

“Don’t you remember? Alan doesn’t have dairy, it could get hairy, and Steph doesn’t have nuts, no buts. You don’t need to worry though, they can’t make it tonight.” 

“See, this is why you’re the better neighbour. Red or white?”

“Go for red. Jonathan drinks red.” 

For a moment, your heart stutters a little in your chest, a small sense of unease tightening your muscles, but you need to remember, it’s just a name. A popular boy’s name. “Jonathan?” 

“Jonathan as in boyfriend Jonathan. As in the-reason-why-we’re-doing-this Jonathan.”

“Oh right,” you nervously laugh, “you’ve always referred to him as ‘the boyfriend’ it made me forget that he actually has a name.” 

“Yeah, well he’ll soon have a face too. Although he said he might be a little late tonight and doesn’t mind missing the starter. He'll be here for the main.” 

“Okay, can’t wait!”

Having food preparations sorted, you take the remaining few hours to present yourself; washing, bathing, moisturising, curling your hair, applying that little extra bit of makeup, and finally choosing an outfit. Despite it only being Mira and a handful of the neighbours who have seen you in worse states, you still feel the need to look presentable in front of a new face, perhaps the result of your mother’s behaviour rubbing off on you when she faced similar situations. ‘Always presentable, always welcoming. First impressions matter.’ 

Her words stay true to this day. It’s what banked you a job, friends amongst the neighbourhood, and impossibly so, Jonathan Levy’s attraction many, many years ago. 

Since the weather had transitioned well into the Spring’s warmth, you settle for a sundress knowing that Mira fully intends to use her beautiful backyard to see off the sunset after dinner. It fits you perfectly, complimented by the sparkling golden necklace that sits squarely between your clavicles; the very same Jonathan had gifted you on your 21st birthday, which to anyone should be reason enough to get rid of it, but just like how you can’t completely get rid of the thought of Jonathan, you can’t get rid of the necklace. At least, not yet. 

You arrive a little earlier than Mira had instructed but with good intentions. You help her set the table, stick the necessary food in the oven and ease her nerves. You’re glad to see her dressed similarly, having put in that little extra glamour on top of her usual appearance to appease her guests and, of course, her boyfriend which you both casually joke about.

Soon, one by one, the neighbours start arriving and quickly settle into their own seats as the first course gets plated out. Only one seat across from you remains empty. 

You’re surprised by how quickly it starts to feel like nothing’s changed at all; being here together conversing over a roast, clinking glasses and laughing over memories and you remind yourself to give thanks to Mira’s new boyfriend for reigniting a fire that burned out long ago. However it seems like you might need to wait your turn with how engrossed the rest of the neighbours are in Mira’s new boyfriend, everyone wants to meet him. His name fails to fall out of conversation with now being the only chance to ask about him before he arrives.

“So how did he ask you out?” Lisa, from number 32, asks, sitting next to her husband Tom. 

“He took me on a date to Rosano’s, very generously paid for my meal, and then we went for a walk along the pier where he surprised me with a bouquet of pink peonies that he had the ice cream vendor keep before the date. He had it all planned out.” 

Everyone around you awes with adoration, their lips pouting and their hands over their chest, almost identical to the way people reacted when you told a similar story to your friends when they asked you how your Jonathan asked you out. Only after you swallow the soft lump of potato do you force yourself to respond in the same way, too caught up in your own memories to give an immediate reaction. 

Pink peonies. Your favourite flower. 

It takes everything in you to ignore the blaring alarm in your head, screaming and fussing over the coincidences. You boil it down to emotions running high and how everything lately has been reminding you of your ex, subconsciously relating everything back to the time you spent with him. Fuck, you didn’t even need to try that hard to link the lentil soup you’re eating back to him. The first meal you had together when you both moved into your new apartment…

The starter course and the conversation concluded when Mira’s boyfriend chapped on the front door. With an understanding nod, you take the plates from Mira’s hands, offering to take them to the kitchen while she answers the door. While there, you can hear through the walls, listening to the cacophony of people greeting one another, sharing names and pleasantries while you stand over the kitchen sink. While the tap runs, you look up to your reflection in the kitchen window, twisting your strands of hair to re-curl that one piece that had fallen flat. First impressions. Better make it a good one. 

You enter the dining room once again with a beaming smile on your face ready to welcome him in, and standing there, by Mira’s side, is the last person you want to see. 

Jonathan. Fucking. Levy. 

It is by chance, or perhaps by fate's cruel hand, that you find yourselves face to face once again in the most unexpected of places. There’s barely enough time to react when your eyes meet from across the room, picked out from a sea of people being none the wiser to the unfortunate predicament you both face. In that moment, amongst the din of the dining room, time almost comes to a stand still and you’re left waiting in the doorway with bated breath, overrun by a wash of emotions as Jonathan’s eyes are confronted with the same feeling. 

Between you and him, Jonathan seems to keep up the pretence better than you do as his smile barely dips, but enough to know that he recognises you, enough to know that he too is filled with the same amount of dread and confusion as you are. And as Mira walks him over to introduce you, he doesn’t let the facade fall. 

She introduces your name to him and without a seconds’ hesitation, he offers his hand. “Hi, I’m Jonathan, nice to meet you.” 

There’s a moment’s delay before you take it, his warmth no stranger to your skin, and with a little wobble to your voice you relay his words back to him. “It’s…it’s nice to meet you too, Jonathan.” 

His eyes stay on you as Mira thankfully takes control of the conversation. Poor, oblivious Mira who is unaware of the fact that your Jonathan has just become her Jonathan…because surnames were never mentioned. “Is the food ready to come out?” 

“Uh, yeah. I can…I can help out if you need.” 

“Perfect! Jonathan, honey, you go sit and get yourself a drink, ‘kay? Dinner won’t be long.” 

You watch agonisingly as Mira peppers his cheek with a kiss and follows you into the kitchen where you finally get a chance to navigate the minefield of unresolved emotions without a roomful of witnesses. 

Mira instantly tends to the roast slowly cooking away in the oven leaving you to stand in the corner, almost not knowing what to do yourself. An explosion has just gone off inside you yet Mira and a roomful of people are expecting you to carry on as normal, as if years and years’ worth of recovery hasn’t just been stripped from you within a single second. Thousands of layers of hurt have been peeled back and left you bare and vulnerable to your biggest fear, and yet Jonathan’s pretence to not know you has forced you to deal with it as if it’s nothing. 

What the fuck are you supposed to do?

“So what do you think?” Mira pulls you from your musing and peers up to you, a proud smile on her face. Her. Mira. It’s all for Mira’s sake, the innocent party in all of this. The realisation hits you like a freight train. If she knew anything about Jonathan being the ex you talked for hours about, it would destroy her. “He’s nice, right?” 

“Lovely,” you gleam back, kickstarting your limbs to dish out the cooked vegetables. “He seems very nice.”

“I knew you’d like him.” 

If only, Mira, if only. 

Not enough time passes before everyone is sat at the dinner table once more, tucking into the delicious food warmly prepared by Mira. You wouldn’t even know, you’ve barely touched it. You can’t find it in you to enjoy the food nor engage in the jovial conversation happening around you because Jonathan Fucking Levy, your ex of six years, is sitting right across from you behaving so casually it makes your stomach churn. 

The little ball of stuffing rolls across your plate, dancing from side to side over and over again. You take the small amount of comfort you can find in the hypnotic motion, stuck in a trance of watching this stuffing ball roll back and forward while Jonathan Fucking Levy drones on about his endeavours. You try to pay him no attention of course, but when everyone else around you is sucked into his conversation narrated by his smooth-like-honey voice that used to whisper sweet nothings in your ear, it’s harder said than done. 

You dip in and out of his story telling every now and then because you can’t stop your curiosity from wondering just how different the last three years have been for him. Apparently he took ‘personal growth’ seriously and you come to realise that it wasn’t just a shoddy excuse to break up. He’s become a reputable academic, striving in the industry and made quite a name for himself which he explains so beautifully, so fluent with expression and elegant with his choice of his words that hooks everyone in which, given his career choice, makes all the more sense. Then, when you throw in his confident manner and the slightly animated way he presents himself when he speaks passionately about something (which, back in the day, used to be you), it accumulates to something you can’t help but admire. You see it in the eyes of your neighbours around you, afraid to blink for fears of missing something spectacular. 

It really makes you wonder how he can act so calm and collected. It’s been three years. Surely there has to be one little atom inside him that's swayed by your being here. There has to be. 

Oh, there definitely is. 

You don’t know it because you refuse to look at him, but every part of Jonathan is burning with anxiety. If you could just spare him one glance you would see that his fingers twitch around the thin stem of the wine glass, that his whole body shakes with his bobbing knee, and that his teeth incessantly chew away at his bottom lip. At least he has the red wine to thank, staining his cheeks with enough colour to conceal how pale he would be otherwise. 

Because he’s terrified. Terrified of not only seeing you, but missing you. Desperately, hopelessly, and unquestionably missing you. He feared he would never see you again to tell you. Yet here you are, sitting an arm’s length away from him, unknowingly tormenting him with the scent of your perfume that consumes every particle of air around him, effortlessly resurrecting memories of how he used to wish that scent would wake him up every morning like it used to. If only he could reach out to feel the buzz of your skin on his, just like it did when you shook his hand, the electricity that flowed through him when your eyes found his. He’s already experiencing withdrawal and he craves for your attention but you won’t look at him anymore. He needs you to look at him again, he needs you to know that he’s been plagued with regret since the moment you split. How can he get you to look at him? 

“So what do you do?” 

His question cuts through the running conversation like a sharp knife, demanding the attention of everyone at the table as they silence and wait for your answer. It takes you a second to realise he’s talking to you and had it been without everyone staring at you, you would’ve ignored him. But you don’t want to come across as rude to the other guests, and you settle for answering coldly. 

“Just corporate work, just a simple nine-to-five-Monday-to-Friday kind of job. It’s nothing special.” 

Mira interjects and you happily give her your attention if it means taking it away from Jonathan. Only, she’s leaning against his shoulder, softly patting his thigh affectionately. “Oh she’s being modest, she’s a finance manager, runs the full finance department with an iron fist, don’t you?”  

“I manage a small team of bookkeepers and accountants, it’s barely a department.”

“Interesting, how did you get into that?” You pan back to Jonathan who’s munching away, glaring at him through the furrow of your eyebrows, almost vehement at his audacity because he already knows how you got in financing. It was him. 

“A friend.” 

“What do you mean?” This bastard. 

“A friend convinced me to do it. I didn’t have the confidence at the time and he motivated me.”

“That was nice of him.” Sarcasm drips with every word. 

You bite back. “Yeah, he was nice. Until he wasn’t. Anyway, that’s a different story for a different time. More wine, anyone?” There’s a few mumbles of agreement, giving you enough of an excuse to rise from the table and make your way to Mira’s pantry in search of a stronger, more bitter tasting wine because God knows you’re going to need it to get through the rest of this dinner. 

Dessert comes and goes at an agonising pace. With the help of wine and the particularly boozy dessert, you become less inhibited, detangling yourself from the thick tension that’s lassoed tight around you and Jonathan. 

Instead, you find solace in Harry, who lives at number 30, sitting next to you, telling you about the struggles of being a single dad to two troublesome toddlers. It’s quite a depressing conversation and not the pick-me-up you were looking for, but anything is better than having to quietly observe the flirting that’s happening across the table. You deceive Harry into thinking that he’s got your full attention but really you’re hyper aware of Mira and Jonathan in your peripheral vision, sharing small, intimate touches, glancing at each other with stars in their eyes, embraced by the bliss of new-found love. 

That used to be you. You haven’t had anything like that since. 

“So…uh…” You have all intentions of continuing the conversation with Harry but you weren’t listening well enough to remember where he left off. “Who’s looking after the kids tonight?” 

“I hired a babysitter. Which reminds me,” he checks the time on his phone. “I said I’d be back by 8 and it’s 7:57. I better go.” To your dismay, your distraction rises from the table, grabs his jacket from the chair, thanks Mira for the meal and bids everyone a good night. Damn. There goes your distraction. 

Everyone around you is locked deep in conversation under the lowlights of Mira’s dining room. All except you. With a heavy sigh, you reach for your wine glass to once again relish the dry, bitter taste of the alcohol as it trickles down your throat. You slouch further and further back against your chair, wallowing in your isolation that no one seems to take notice of. 

But Jonathan does, and to your surprise, you feel something tentatively brush against your leg. At first you thought you had gotten too close to the table leg, but when it starts creeping up the length of your leg underneath your dress, your only option is to consider the man sitting directly across from you. Your eyes burn into the side of his head, ignorant to you while he talks enthusiastically about something you’re not privy to. Not that you want to be, especially when the tip of his shoe caresses the back of your calf, pulling it out from underneath you and hooking your ankle closer to him. He remains unfazed as your foot gently rests atop his underneath the table, tracing small circles over your achilles heel. 

Your heart beats widely inside you, violently disorientating you as much as the twisting in your stomach does. The gesture is so provocative you’re almost sweating in your seat. It’s scandalous, outrageous, and downright inappropriate, but you’ll be damned to hell if you don’t admit to yourself that it feels mildly arousing. 

Only when Mira leaves for the bathroom does he catch a glimpse of you over the tip of his wine glass and old sparks fly as you read the words in his eyes that his mouth can’t say. I miss you. I want you. I need you. 

Shaken, you draw back your leg and pull your eyes from his, feeling completely lost and indecisive about what to do. The hidden touches, the secrecy, it’s all too intimate for you to be opening an old wound that still hasn’t fully healed. You’re not ready for three years of hardship to manifest. 

Yet again Mira comes to the rescue when she returns from the bathroom and ushers all the remaining guests out into the backyard where you sit yourself as far away from Jonathan as possible, but it’s not without the touch of Jonathan’s hand to the small of your back as you all walk out through the glass panel doors, unnoticed by everyone else. There isn’t a doubt in your mind that he saw the momentary shiver that wracked your shoulders the moment his fingers splayed across the bottom of your spine, virtually feeling the heat of your body through the cotton sundress as if it was your own skin. You make a mental note to yourself to never get close to Jonathan for the remainder of the night. 

Once you get outside, you look up to your bedroom window, visible from all areas of Mira’s garden, wishing that you return to the comforts of your own bed, lost in your book and free from this emotional torment. It takes just a glimpse of your window to see everything inside it, something you hadn’t realised was possible until Mira had to awkwardly knock on your door the second week of you moving here and gently warn you to draw your blinds when you were changing. And just as the thought arises…

“Do you remember,” Mira hiccups, perhaps on her sixth glass of wine of the night, “when I had to tell you to close your blinds two weeks after you moved here? I actually thought you were maybe trying to seduce me!” She laughs wholeheartedly, nearly spilling her wine onto Jonathan’s lap. 

A blush blooms on your cheeks. “I didn’t realise you could see in! If I had known I would’ve! Jesus, Mira, way to make me out as a flasher in front of the neighbours.” 

“Listen, if it makes you feel any better, some guys would’ve paid thousands to have seen what I saw every  morning.” 

With a nervous glance of your eyes, you see Jonathan’s glare hard on you. 

“Do I need to contact the HOA and tell them we’ve got a pervert in our neighbourhood?” 

The neighbours laugh but Mira rushes to her defence, unknowingly giving Jonathan that all important detail that he might take advantage of later. “My window is right there! How could I not see you?” 

“Conversation over.” 

Against your wishes, Mira dives into many conversations of a similar nature provoked by Jonathan who annoyingly asks all sorts of questions that involve how you and Mira became friends, forcing her, in her now drunken state, to divulge all the memories you share together, including the many nights you spent talking about ex-lovers. The minute she starts spilling everything, nausea starts to pool inside you and the colour trickles away from your cheeks. Knowing none the wiser, she talks on and on and on about how you bonded over the troubles and hardships of being single, detailing everything about how you would reminisce over ex-lovers and compare them to every shitty cheesy romance film you watched together. And with just a few stories, she single-handedly exposes all of your inner thoughts and feelings towards Jonathan. Right in front of him all for him to hear. 

You silently plead with your eyes, solid in their gaze in the hopes that Mira would catch on and shut up, but she’s seven, no, eight glasses of wine deep that she can’t hold anybody’s gaze let alone yours. 

Jonathan merely sits and listens, amused by everything that is pouring out from Mira’s loud mouth. 

“I mean, it’s hard. And you’ll agree with me on this, that trying to get back into the dating scene as a single woman isn’t an easy experience! You go on dates with guys that bore you to sleep, clicking with absolutely none of them and it just leads to you going home and dreaming about meeting the one guy that sweeps you off your feet. Of course, you’ll know what I mean because you’ve already met him--”

“Mira--” 

She turns to Jonathan to give him context. Knowledge that he already knows himself. “She had this one guy that she dated years ago, the one-that-got-away kind of guy. We used to laugh about him--”

Jonathan’s eyebrows shoot up. “Oh really? How so?”

Fuck. 

“Mira--”

“Just the usual girly stuff, what we would wear at our weddings, thinking about baby names, and talk about owning the perfect house in the suburbs, that kind of stuff.” 

Jonathan turns to you with an emotion you can only only describe as being distressed, possibly on the verge of being disturbed and you don’t blame him. You’re sure that he could see the very same feeling in you through the gaps of your fingers as they hide your face in embarrassment. 

This is possibly your worst nightmare come to life. The entire night had dwindled into absolute ruins and there’s nothing more that you want than to bury yourself into the ground, away from Mira, away from this mortifying feeling, away from Jonathan. You know it’s not her fault, but everything in you is wanting you to blame Mira, to be judge, jury and executioner and lay out all that she is guilty of in front of her. However in reality, you’re projecting. You were the one to tell her about Jonathan. You were the one to feed her all this information believing that not a word of it would ever reach Jonathan’s ears, and when you consider all that has led up to this exact moment, you are just as at fault as she is. 

And you need to make a run from it while you can. 

“I’m…uh, I think I’m going to go home,” you announce, not realising how shaky your voice is until you speak up. Mira’s expression falls with disappointment, coming immediately to a stand and trying her hardest to convince you to stay. But you know nothing could. 

“Do you want us to walk you home?” 

“Mira, I live next door, I’m sure I’ll be fine.” 

She persistently follows you back into the house. “I’ll walk you to the door then.”

“I know where the front door is--” 

“I just want to make sure you get home okay--” 

“Mira, honey, you go sit, I’ll walk her out.” Jonathan’s voice appears from behind you both, reassuring enough that Mira follows his word and returns to the back garden with a mousey ‘okay’. Once gone, Jonathan, stoic as ever, catches you in his stride, escorting you to the door with a hand to the back of your shoulder. 

This time, when you speak, you can’t stop the sniffle as your emotions run high. “If I don’t want Mira walking me out, I sure as shit don’t want you walking me out.” 

He merely looks down to you and sighs, not listening to a single word you say. Within a matter of seconds, you exit through Mira’s front door, ready and willing to slam it in Jonathan’s face but he’s just a pace too quick and is already following you through the front garden. Your body goes into high alert, having no idea what he’s about to do now that for the first time in three years, you have a moment alone together. 

“Jonathan,” you warn. “Go back inside.” 

“Just let me walk you home.” 

“Why?” 

“Why? Because I want an explanation as to what the fuck just happened in there.” 

“You’re not getting one. You don’t deserve one. Go back inside, Jonathan, your girlfriend is waiting on you.” 

“Like hell. Will you just talk to me for one second?!” He reaches out and grabs your arm, swinging you around to face him where your bodies stand inches apart. It’s not in anger nor frustration but in desperation, as if this is the only chance he’ll ever get again to speak to you alone and he’s not willing to let it slip by him so easily. “Is…is what Mira said true? Did you really talk about all those things?” 

You look down to your fingers wringing them out while you wait for the courage to build. “That wasn’t her information to share. But what does it matter anyway, it’s…stupid.”

“It matters to me.” He tilts your chin with the gentlest of touches, his hand lingering close to your neck as he picks up the necklace sitting delicately around your neck, one that he’s all too familiar with. “I miss you.” 

“Don’t…don’t say that to me.” You begin to feel the tethers keeping the remains of your composure snapping, your mouth sinking deeper into a frown the way it always does when you’re about to cry. “You don’t get to say that to me.” 

“Nonetheless, it’s true. And I think you missed me too.” 

You roll your eyes and he immediately scorns you. “No, no, don’t do that. Don’t invalidate it just because I said it. I’m not trying to be smug or patronising, I want to know the truth. Did you miss me?” 

The wobble in your lip becomes uncontrollable. You don’t have the option to lie because he can read every minute feature on your face like it’s laid out for him in words, he would know if you didn’t tell the truth. With a deep breath, you push out the admission. “Every. Fucking. Day.” 

He nods understandably, retracting his hand from your necklace and sinks it deep into his pockets. He looks up to your window before quietly murmuring words suggestive in tone, “then keep your window open tonight.” 

And it takes your breath away.

~~~~

It’s late. A little past 1am. It’s been all too silent since the last of Mira’s guests left about an hour ago leaving only her and Jonathan next door. 

His last words to you before you separated still echo loudly in your ears but you just can’t figure what he meant. It’s the only thing that’s kept you up this late, and even as you sit on your bed just a few metres from your open window that lets in a cool, calming breeze, you still can’t fathom what he’s intending to do because her window across from you is closed, her curtains drawn and her lights out. 

Is this a joke? Is this Jonathan’s cruel twisted idea of a joke to make you watch as he and Mira settle for the night? Teasing you with something you can’t have? The foundation of that idea had developed a little less than half an hour ago and the more time ticks on, the more bricks are added to it. 

Having enough, you turn your back to your window, taking your duvet and slinging it over your head and around your shoulders, blocking out the world behind you. There’s no point trying to sleep, the embarrassment and the emotional trauma of tonight are still too raw for you to find any peace, so you reach for the half-finished book on your nightstand. 

Fuck Jonathan Levy. Fuck him and everything he stands for. Fuck him in the past and--

Wait, what was that? 

Just then, not even two lines into your book you hear the small creak of a door opening and closing coming from outside. Your eyes dart to your digital clock reading 1:10am. It could be Mark coming in from his backshift. It could be Erin, Alan’s teenage daughter sneaking in from a night out. It could be Rebecca, taking her dog out on a late night walk. All options are plausible and wouldn’t be completely out of the ordinary. But there’s one option that you’re afraid to consider.

What if it’s Jonathan? 

You don’t look to check because you wouldn’t know what you would do if it was him, and so in the meantime, you continue to anxiously sit and listen out for any other clues. 

In time, they come. The rustling of the ivy that weaves in and out of your lattice fencing on the side of your house. The breaths of a man as he scales up the wooden structure to your window. The heaviness of his boots as they thud against your floorboards. The raspiness of his voice as he mutters your name. He’s here. In your room, and yet you still can’t bring yourself to turn around to face him. Your breaths are tremorous as he makes his way closer to you, almost shaking with anticipation of what’s about to happen. 

He doesn’t say anything else, doesn’t make any rash decisions. For a moment, he pauses by the side of your bed eyeing you up with your duvet slung over your head and decidedly reaches for it, taking a fistful of the sheets and dragging it slowly away from you until you’re exposed to him, still dressed in the sundress you couldn’t bring yourself to take off. The tension locks you in a chokehold, unable to move, unable to speak, waiting for the moment where Jonathan’s hand reaches out to touch you once more but you know it’ll be different this time. No more gentle touches hidden in plain sight, no more casual excuses to lay his hands on you, everything that will happen here on in will be the result of three years of separation and withdrawal. 

The bed dips under his weight and only then do you turn your head to look over your left shoulder. He’s closer than you expected and you see the tufts of his curls hanging over his forehead come into sight, low and looming. His nose comes into contact with your shoulder and even the slightest touch sets you alight. He scales up the curve of your neck to hide deep within the locks of your hair behind your ear and inhales.

“That fucking perfume,” he whispers softly into your hair. “It’s just as perfect as I remember.” 

“Jonathan, we…” you heaved a breath, fighting temptation. “We shouldn’t do this.”

“You have no idea, do you?” He murmurs directly into your ear, his arm coming around to circle your waist and hug you closer to him. “No idea just how much I missed you, how much I regret what I did, and every day I spent not being with you was a reminder of the mistake I made to the point where I thought I would never get to hold you again.” 

He renders you speechless when he scrapes away the strands of your hair and mouths at the curve of your neck, humming into your skin. It’s almost the same as before, soft pillowy lips showering you with unreserved passion, except this time they’re followed by the slight scrape of his beard grown in the years you hadn’t seen him. It makes his kisses more exhilarating, stimulating. While your body screams for more, your morals just can’t shake the guilt of betraying your own friend. 

“But Mira--” 

“Mira knows.” 

You detach yourself from his lips to face him, still half-lidded and unfazed by his admission. You’re almost nauseous with the way your heart drops in your chest. “What do you mean she knows?” 

Despite your surprise, Jonathan simply tilts his head as he assesses your face in the sheen of the streetlight like he’s seeing you for the first time all over again and doesn’t stop his fingers from intertwining with the short baby hairs at the nape of your neck. 

“She had an inkling that there was something going on between us. There was a reason why she brought me up in the conversation earlier in the garden because she knew from the moment she saw the look on your face when you saw me. So I came clean. We decided to be completely honest with each other and we talked for a while.” 

“And?” 

“Well, she knew your thoughts on me…and it was more than I had ever thought to hear.”

Your cheeks flush angrily, wincing at the thought of Mira revealing every confession told with such a lack of restraint. Back then, telling Mira these things felt like securing all of your secrets into a vault, trusting that they would be safe, trusting that they were secure enough that no one besides you would have access to them. In hindsight, you should’ve perceived her as more of a time capsule, planted, hidden for the time being, and when after enough time passes, they are bound to be found by someone else. 

“I know that you hated me for a while - and I did too. I always wondered whether you resented me as much as I did, for a while I thought it wasn’t possible. And while I knew the resentment was one sided, there was a part of me that wished that missing each other wasn’t. I guess I found my answers tonight.” 

“Was Mira mad?” 

“No, darling,” he grazes his chin over the curve of your shoulder, lips inching closer and closer to your own. “She considered you to be too much of a friend to get in the way and cause you any pain, not after all that you had told her. She knew you would’ve done the same for her.” 

“I…I don’t know what to think. It’s all just a mess.” 

You turn your head towards the book in your hands, fingers fiddling with the page, while you try to figure out where your loyalties lie. With your head? With your heart? It’s a wonder how the same body can feel two entirely opposing feelings and yet still wonder which one is the right one. 

“Maybe…” Jonathan whispers, his hand reaching for the book and sliding it from your grasp, “maybe, you don’t need to think at all. Let me do the thinking for you. Let me show you just how much I’ve missed you, because fuck, as much as I love this dress you have on, I’m much more interested in what’s underneath it.” While one hand pulls you tighter against his chest, his other hand comes to slide down your thigh until curls around your knee, bunching the fabric tight in his fist and pulling it higher and higher. You watch with eager eyes, succumbing to Jonathan’s temptation and letting go of all of your inhibitions. Your eyes grow heavy, wanting to relish the feeling of his fingertips tracing the length of your inner thigh as they gently pull your legs apart, but it’s much more satisfying to watch. Jonathan doesn’t need to watch, not when he can taste the supple skin of your neck. 

It’s almost agonising how slow his pace is, how he stalls every couple of seconds to trace circles on your skin and devilishly chuckles when you whimper. “I can’t say I’m not disappointed though, talking about our life’s plan without me.” 

Just as his fingers feel the outer rim of your underwear, you tilt your head back to lean against his shoulder with a sinful sigh. Opening your legs just that little bit wider tells Joanthan everything he needs to know. It’s been years. Years since he’s had you like this, so he has every reason not to take it slowly and fuck you like a man starved of your touch, but there’s something in him, perhaps the little devil on his shoulder, that persuades him to take it slowly, to exploit the part of you that has missed him and prove to you that the years spent apart, however painful, was worth the wait. 

“Tell me,” he urges, “tell me what you had imagined.” 

Call you ignorant but you’re not quite in the talking mood. However, you feel he won’t do a single thing to you unless you do as he asks. “That…that we’d get married in the small church near the vineyard where we grew up. I imagined a quiet house in the suburbs, just us two, at least for a while.” 

“Hm, what kind of house?” 

“One that wasn’t too big that we’d feel far apart, and not too small that we would get in each other’s way. One with a garage and a garden where our dog could run around.” 

“Good,” he praises into your ear. A single digit slips beneath your underwear which instantly gets a feel of your warm, wettening cunt, and you grow impatient.  “What else?” 

“After a while, we…shit…we’d have our own kids. A boy and a girl. I’d hope they’d have your eyes.” 

After doing a few rounds of your entrance, the tip of his finger rests upon your clit, barely moving. Your hips start moving fluidly, all of their own volition but he eases his touch. Instead he gives a gentle tap tap tap, urging you to continue before you can get any more.

The hand that keeps you stable around your middle eventually slithers up to wrap around your neck squeezing with a dizzying pressure. 

“Keep going…” 

“We’d take an early retirement so that we could grow old together. Taking vacations to places we’d never been to before, being the same couple we were when we were younger.” 

“Oh yeah? I love the sound of that. Just as much as I love the sound of those moans you make. Keep singing little siren.” The moan that leaves your lips the minute he nibbles on your lobe is unrecognisable. You haven’t been seduced like this in years and every atom of you is buzzing with anxiety and in your physical form, you can’t sit still. It takes the weight and pressure of Jonathan’s thighs resting either side of your hips to keep you anchored. 

His fingers make quick work of building you up, conjuring that deep, guttural feeling of pleasure and desire to stir within you. Even after years, he still knows you so well, still knows what makes you tick and what makes you scream. There isn’t an inch of your neck that Jonathan’s lips haven’t touched; sucking, licking, biting until you’re coloured with bruises. 

“Seems like you have it all planned out, darling. But why don’t I tell you how I imagined tonight would go?” 

“Please.” 

Just as his words flow from his mouth, two fingers slide easily into you and curl into that spot makes your body restless and your lungs heaving. “Just as I did, I’d find you here, confess that there wasn’t a day that went by where I didn’t think of you, tell you how I yearned to have the sweet taste of you on my tongue again and the tight squeeze of that cunt around my cock. I’d seduce you every way I knew I could and I’d want you to want it. I’d want you to tell me that you want it and once I knew I had you again, I’d get on my knees, lift up that dress of yours and taste you. Get you nice and wet, ready to take me.”

“Fuck, Jonathan--” 

“After years, I thought my patience would get the better of me if I ever had this chance again, but seeing you here like this,” his fingers pick up the pace, drilling into you and filling the room with sacrilegious sounds. “I think I might want to take my time, let each minute that passes reflect what I have been thinking about every day we were apart.” 

“Please,” you whisper, growing evermore impatient. It all sounds too good. The more he speaks his feelings into words the more you want it. To have the feeling of him touch you everywhere, to feel him inside you, snug and shaped by him and bringing you to the precipice of losing your mind the way only he could. “I need you, Jonathan, need you now.” 

His lips come to your cheek, shaped by a smile of satisfaction. “You will, darling. Soon. I just want to savour this right now.” 

His fingers slip from your cunt, trailing all that he’s gathered up the length of your slit to come crashing down onto your clit. While he circles and swirls his fingers, you twist your head to lock eyes with him and even in the cover of darkness, you can still make out the fire that’s burning within him leaving no doubt that he truly wants to ravish you just as he has described. But it isn’t a roaring fire, it’s a slow burning candle, flickering away to slowly dissolve all of what’s left of his patience. 

Like instinct, your lips clash together hungrily not sparing a second before your tongues and welding together and tasting the remnants of the red wine you both had earlier. Inexplicably, it tastes sweeter on his palate. 

The fingers that curl around your neck tense as if they’re fighting to keep you stable, surging to keep your restlessness at bay and all of this is making you wonder ‘why not just get on with it?’.

You decide to hasten the pace, raising your hips closer to his fingers with the tips of your toes, feeling his cock grind against the small of your back where it should be grinding against your cunt. Though that may be how you truly feel, you make do with his fingers toying with you with his palm flat against your pubic bone to keep you close, once again making you twitch with anticipation and hum with desire. You’re close, so close that with just another lap of his fingers would make you explode. 

Holy shit. You’re going to cum. You’re to cum on Jonathan Fucking Levy’s fingers.

“Don’t you think we should maybe close your blinds?” He taunts, suddenly halting all of his movements. “Surely you wouldn’t want the neighbours to see how easily you fall apart for me.”

Jesus. Where did this side of Jonathan come from? 

“Um…y-yeah. Close them.” God, it’s starting to take effect on you. When was the last time a man made you stumble over your own words like that? 

With a gentle kiss to your cheek, he rises from the bed to leave you attempting to find relief from the friction of your thighs, chasing what you were seconds from having. 

When you begin to wonder what takes him so long, you turn to face him staring out of the window, his silhouette blocking the light of the streetlamp that normally floods in through the glass. The fingers that were toying with your cunt seconds ago twitch by his side rubbing together the remnants of your slick, so sensual that it has you biting your bottom lip. Before he closes the curtain he takes those fingers and puts them in his mouth as if he’s just swiped the whipped cream from atop a pudding he’s forbidden to have. But sometimes that’s what makes it all the sweeter. 

“Jonathan?” you whisper to pull him from his reverie, your patience waning. 

“Coming,” he says gently. “Just taking it all in. You, me…” he snaps the curtains closed and plunges you both into darkness, “your taste on my tongue.” 

Slowly and somewhat menacingly he turns around and his shoulders are hunched, his fists are clenched, his breathing is audibly racing. The tone instantly changes when he comes to stand over you, his fingers tilting your chin up to look at him directly. It hooks you in immediately, suddenly feeling the compulsion to do whatever he wants, to go wherever he guides you. 

Jonathan’s voice slithers through the air like a snake through the wreaths, worming its way into the valley of your ears so clear and precise. “I know I said I was going to take this slowly and I whole-heartedly intend to follow through with that. But just so you know, I don’t think I can be gentle. Can you allow me that?” 

“Yes, Jonathan, yes.” 

“Good.” 

It amazes you how one short syllable completely changes the aura of the room, how easily Jonathan commands control of the situation because all of a sudden, the gentle traces of his fingertips circling your chin changes to a clawed hand around your neck, drawing you into an all-consuming kiss that’s more powerful than before. Without missing a single beat, he forces you onto your back and hovers over you, caging you in and anchoring his weight down onto your pelvis. It should feel claustrophobic and intrusive, but instead it feels like a sanctuary; warm, safe, secure.

Where it feels like he belongs.

Shivers race up your spine and throw your hands into motion as they cling onto his shirt, luring him even closer until the beat of his heart is pounding against yours. Not only that, but you can feel his hips thrusting into yours, grinding his contained cock against your heat and it elicits a moan from both of you. With a sudden rush of adrenaline, he races to undo his belt, pulling himself free and you almost squeal with the anticipation of knowing how well he can undo you with one swift thrust. But like Jonathan promised, he isn’t going to rush this. He slowly peels off your underwear until you are well and truly exposed.

Not without a few pumps of his fist, he lines himself up and anchors you down, teasing your entrance with the head of his leaking cock, giving you a taster of what’s to come. 

“You drive me fucking insane,” he grumbles into your mouth. “Always have, always will.” 

“Please stop talking.”

“Or what, huh?” he chuckles. He takes the head of his cock and batters it against your swollen clit. Deliberately, you guess, to render you speechless. And it works, the snide quip hot on your lips quickly loses all conviction and you’re back to moans and whimpers. “‘S what I thought. You and I both know how much we want this. How much we’ve missed this.”

This time you take the chance to bite back before he robs you of it. “Well get on with it, then.” 

Now driven, he snags your bottom lip with his teeth dragging it out until it’s released with a pop. “Fine.”

Giving you a final taste of his lips, he comes to a stand taking your legs with him with a mighty pull until your hips lie just over the precipice of the bed. He hugs your legs to his chest, his cock lining up with your exposed cunt perfectly and with powerful thrust, he sinks deep into you. All of the air punches out of your lungs in a single beat and you claw at the bed sheets while you fight for your breath back. You’re momentarily debilitated while you acclimate to his size, filling you so effortlessly. Despite being slightly uncomfortable, it’s a welcome intrusion and you’re thankful that he gives you a minute.

“Fuck, you’re so tight. Holy fuck.”

Not a moment later, he pulls his hips back, completely withdrawing and just when you think you’ve got your breath back he charges into you again, snapping his hips against your ass and sending aftershocks up the length of your body. It’s a motion he repeats over and over again, giving you that pleasurable feeling of being so full of him as he grinds into you all to be taken away within a moment leaving utterly empty. You have just enough awareness to listen out for the staccato notes of his hips slapping against yours followed by your sheepish sobs. 

It’s insatiable. He never changes pace and the power of his thrusts never falters. He certainly doesn’t allude to breaking his promise of rushing things and frustratingly so, continues his slow rampage, finding pleasure in that little sweet spot where the swollen ridge of his cock drags from your cunt. It’s enough to get you going, but not enough to finish you off. 

“I need more,” you beg between breaths. “Please.” 

Jonathan doesn’t respond, and instead waits until the cheeks of your ass are red raw from his poundings (which feels like a lifetime) and only then, does he take a new approach. Your legs swing apart, forced wide open by his greedy hands and you’re left to watch with bated breath as he drops to his knees and devours you.

“Fuck, Jonathan!”

“Mm, that’s right, baby, say my name.” 

“Jonath--fuck!” His mouth completely consumes every inch of your cunt, lavishing the taste of you with his tongue from deep within you to the tip of your clit. Amongst the buzzes of his hum, the soft scrape of his beard, and the crescent-moon marks pressing into your waist, your back arches as desire slowly morphs into a desperate pain, needing to give his hot mouth more access to your cunt if it was at all possible. And just when you think you are ready to give in, he steals the moment from you. With two fingers, he slots them easily into you and starts working your pussy at a torturous pace. 

“Look how soaked you are.” His lips brush against your clit as he speaks, a depraved grunt rolling from the back of his throat. 

“I’m gonna cum.” 

“Do it. I want it. I wanna taste you. I want you.” 

Your heart grows, a small smile appearing on your lips. The warmth of affection stills you momentarily to appreciate how you have your old love back, the man you could never really get over, that all those years of waiting and wanting are over. You don’t know what it was about the sudden softness and love-drunkenness that washed through you, but God, he was stunning. Everything about him was annoyingly perfect. Stupidly, annoyingly perfect. Yet, here he was, lavishing you as if you were an elixir of life.

Your fingers itch to race through his locks to pull him closer, tempted to never let him go. Through his dark lashes, his lust-heavy eyes find yours as if he knew what you were insinuating.

“Don’t worry, baby, I’m never leaving. Let go for me.” 

You didn’t need to be told again. With the final swipe of his tongue across your clit, you internal combust, your entire body folding into itself with Jonathan trapped between your thighs. 

----

You and Jonathan spent the night catching up on all the years you spent apart, sharing orgasm after orgasm until you were completely and utterly spent. Despite only having just a few hours of sleep, you awoke early in the morning, just in time to see the sun rise over the peak of your neighbours’ houses. All is calm in the street aside from the few birds tweeting in Mira’s tree and Jonathan’s steady breathing beside you. The tranquil, blissful few moments of consciousness fills you with a sense of rejuvenation from all that has happened within the last 24 hours. If it hadn’t been for Mira’s approval beforehand, you would be drowning in guilt. You make a mental reminder to talk to her and apologise later. 

You roll over on your side of the bed to find Jonathan sleeping peacefully beside you, his hand tucked under his chin like it always did when he was deep in slumber and you quirk a smile when you realise that nothing’s changed. With a delicate finger, you sweep away the curl resting against his forehead, careful not to wake him but yet he still stirs, readjusting himself subconsciously. Though not fully awake, he reaches out for you as if it was instinct and little do you know, it is. Every morning since you split, Jonathan had always reached out for you to find nothing but empty cold space on the other side of his bed and it was a sad reality he couldn’t quite accept. But now, when his fingertips feel the warmth of your skin against his, he doesn’t hesitate to lure you into his embrace to relish the lingering scent of your perfume, the slow beating of your heart, the little content hum singing from your throat. You’re here. You’re real. And he’s certain to never lose you again.

In his drowsy state, he puckers his lips in a timid kiss to the surface of your forehead. 

“Love you,” he quietly murmurs. 

With a breathy laugh, you return his kiss, whispering the same words against his bare chest directly over his heart. 

I love you too, Jonathan Fucking Levy.