#first the heartbreak haircut

[shelaghdette]

i've said it once, i've said it a million times - NO HETEROSEXUAL EXPLANATION

okay but i'm still thinking about comphet trixie and if i wasn't supposed to read into it, why did she say this to the first character we find out to be a lesbian in the show?? @shelaghdette i'm still having thoughts about this haircut

[liviawildrose]

𝐛𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐦𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫

it’s a hard pill to swallow, but sometimes, you’ve got to step into a role you never signed up for. maybe your mom wasn’t the nurturing, protective figure she was supposed to be. maybe your dad let you down in ways that left scars. maybe your friends only stuck around to take, never to give. the truth? you can’t wait for someone to come and save you. you have to become your own mother.

ask yourself:

if your child was in your shoes—stuck in a bad relationship, getting treated like crap— would you tell them, “stay”? or would you say, “you deserve better than this”?

if your child was chasing their dreams but struggling, would you mock them? no. you’d guide them, push them to be their best. you’d discipline them with love and cheer them on with pride. now, apply that same energy to yourself.

be that mom who says: “get your shit together because you deserve the best life possible.”

but also the mom who says: “it’s okay to rest, i’ve got your back, and i’m proud of you.”

start showing up for yourself the way you needed someone to show up for you. and yes, it’s sad. sad that we even have to do this. but it’s also empowering to realize you can.

personally, here’s my story.

my mom never cared to take my pictures as a kid nor cared if a haircut made me happy or not, it was literally everything up to her convenience. it hurts now because i would’ve loved to look back and see those memories. but i don’t have them. i can count the photos of my childhood—20 pictures in 17 years. insane, right? so, i made a promise to myself: from now on, i will document my life. i won’t delete my photos. i’ll make sure there’s a record of who i was, what i felt, what i achieved. and when i have kids? you bet i’ll take pictures of them. i’ll curate their childhood with care because i know what it feels like to not have that.

but being your own mother isn’t just about the pictures or the memories. it’s about analyzing everything you missed out on and providing it for yourself now. it’s about being selfless enough to let go of bad habits that hold you back. it’s about kicking toxic people out of your life the way a mom would protect her child from bad influences. it’s about prioritizing your healing, even if it’s messy and uncomfortable. you have to heal your inner child. that 5-year-old who was bullied, that 13-year-old who was treated like shit in her first relationship, that 7-year-old who dreamed big but was told she couldn’t they’re all still inside you, waiting for someone to nurture them. and unfortunately, no one else is going to do it for you. no one else is going to come and fix the damage.

i made a pact with myself: when i have kids, i will raise them so well that they won’t ever need to “heal their inner child” at 17 or 18. they’ll be whole. they’ll be loved. they’ll know their worth from the start. but for now, i’m doing that for myself. and you need to do it for yourself too. because at the end of the day, the only way to heal is to become the person you needed all along. become your own mother.

what is the inner child?

the “inner child” is the part of you that holds your early experiences, memories, and emotions. it’s the 5-year-old you who loved to laugh but was scolded for being “too much.” it’s the 10-year-old you who dreamed big but felt dismissed. it’s the teen you who felt heartbreak for the first time but didn’t know how to process it. your inner child carries the wounds, fears, and unmet needs from your past, but also your natural creativity, curiosity, and joy. healing your inner child means reconnecting with this version of yourself, giving it the love and understanding it never received, and releasing the pain it has carried for years.

how do you heal your inner child?

1. journaling: dialogue with your inner child

dedicate a journal specifically to your inner child. write letters to them, like:

“dear [your name at 5/7/13], i remember when you felt [insert memory]. i’m sorry you went through that, but i’m here now, and i’ve got you.”

let your inner child respond. write as if you’re that younger version of yourself—pour out your fears, dreams, and questions. this process can uncover emotions and patterns you didn’t realize were affecting you.

2. therapy: safe exploration with a professional

a therapist (especially one trained in inner child work) can help you identify wounds and patterns from childhood. they’ll guide you in understanding how your upbringing shaped your beliefs about yourself and the world. therapy also gives you tools to reframe those beliefs and meet your emotional needs.

watch “dear zindagi” lol

3. look at old photos and memories

revisit old photos, journals, or artwork from your childhood. don’t just look at them—analyze them. (i wish i could d this but im stuck with 20 photos so… 😭) what do you notice in your younger self’s eyes, body language, or expression?

• ask yourself:

• what was i feeling here?

• did i feel safe? loved? excited? scared?

• what did i need in this moment that i didn’t get?

• use this reflection to understand your inner child’s unmet needs.

4. create new positive memories

your inner child is still alive within you, and they crave fun, love, and freedom. do things your younger self would’ve loved but never got to do: buy yourself a toy you always wanted. go to an amusement park or build a pillow fort. dance around your room like no one’s watching. this isn’t childish it’s healing.

5. practice reparenting

treat yourself as if you were your own child. when you feel sad or scared, don’t ignore it.

ask yourself: what do i need right now? and give it to yourself.

be the loving, supportive, and protective parent your inner child deserved.

6. identify triggers and patterns

notice when you’re acting out of a place of childhood wounds.

for example: do you get overly anxious when someone’s mad at you? do you seek validation in toxic relationships? trace these behaviors back to your childhood.

were you taught that love is conditional? did you have to “earn” attention by being perfect? once you identify the root, you can start rewiring your responses.

7. inner child meditations and visualizations

find a quiet space and imagine your inner child sitting across from you. visualize yourself comforting them, hugging them, and telling them they’re safe. remind them: “you don’t have to be scared anymore. i’m here for you.”

8. nurture yourself daily

make self-care non-negotiable. eat foods you love, sleep well, move your body, and spend time doing things that make you happy. when you treat yourself with care, you show your inner child they’re worth it.

9. forgive

healing isn’t about excusing those who hurt you. it’s about releasing the hold they have over you so you can move forward. write a forgiveness letter—not for them, but for yourself. (they don’t deserve the love i’m sorry)

“i release the pain you caused me so it doesn’t control me anymore.”

10. promise to break the cycle

vow to yourself (and your future children if you want them) just cause your grandma bleed on your mom and then your mom passed it to you does not mean you will make your future kids life miserable too. the generational trauma must break with you. your future child does not deserve it and so your inner child protect you inner child and when you have a child of your own be the best mother possible, i personally would love to make my future kids childhood so memorable and happy that they will feel the need to comeback and relive their childhood that’s the kind of childhood i want to give them

“i will not let this pain define me. i will create a life of love, joy, and freedom.”

healing your inner child isn’t easy, but it’s life-changing.when you reconnect with that innocent, wounded part of yourself, you’ll find that the love and peace you’ve been searching for has always been within you.

11. foster your inner child’s dreams

when you were a child, your dreams weren’t influenced by fear, rejection, or societal pressures. you dreamed with your heart wide open, purely and authentically. reconnecting with those dreams can heal the part of you that felt unheard or invalidated back then.

a. reflect on your childhood aspirations

• sit down and ask yourself:

• what did i want to be when i was 5? 10? 13?

• what made me happiest back then?

• what did i lose interest in because someone told me i wasn’t good enough?

• write down every dream, no matter how “unrealistic” it seems.

hint: those childhood dreams often point to your soul’s calling.

b. start chasing those dreams now

• even if your dreams have evolved, find ways to honor the essence of them.

• wanted to be a singer at 13? start singing lessons or recording yourself.

• wanted to help people? explore careers like psychology, teaching, or coaching.

• don’t hold back.

it’s not about being perfect, it’s about reconnecting with the passion your younger self had.

c. create small wins for your inner child

• maybe 8-year-old you always wanted to paint but never got the supplies. buy yourself a beginner’s set and paint, even if it’s messy.

• maybe 6-year-old you wanted to be a dancer. take a fun dance class and twirl like no one’s watching.

• small wins send the message to your inner child that they are finally being prioritized.

e. validate your inner child’s feelings and failures

• remind yourself:

“it’s okay that 10-year-old me struggled with making friends. i was just a child trying my best.”

• instead of shaming yourself for past actions, honor them.

every mistake was a step toward becoming the incredible person you are now.

f. use your dreams to shape your future

• your childhood passions aren’t just hobbies—they’re roadmaps to your authentic self.

• align your current goals with your inner child’s desires.

• if 7-year-old you dreamed of making people smile, maybe your career or side hustle should reflect that.

• if 12-year-old you loved storytelling, find ways to write, act, or share your voice.

fostering your inner child’s dreams doesn’t just heal the past—it builds a future that feels authentic to you. every time you take a step toward those dreams, you’re telling your inner child: “you were always worthy. your dreams always mattered. and now, i’m making them come true for you.”

[luveline]

JADE!!! WE WOULD LOVE TO SEE ANOTHER SPENCER X BADASS GIRL!!! maybe its a quiet day and reader & spencer just chilling and joking around in their little world and the others just watching ahahah

thank you for your request babe, I would love to write more for this pairing if u have requests!! ♡ fem!reader

"What are they doing?" Emily asks, a fierce whisper that carries across the jet. 

"I think they're flirting," JJ whispers back. 

Hotch closes the case file in front of him. There's nothing left to do until they get home but sit here in each other's company. You and Spencer seem to have realised this before anybody else, shoulder to shoulder, a book in his hands. He's slouched with his leg crossed over his knee, taking up the majority of the couch. You seem content to take the brunt of his weight while giggling softly by his ear. 

Hotch can't lie, he's genuinely startled by your behaviour. It's the total opposite of your usual affect.

"That's not flirting," Rossi says without looking up. 

Hotch has to agree. You brush a stray hair from Spencer's shoulder and he doesn't so much as blush, turning the page to show you something particular. You lean in closer still, hand resting now on his shoulder. 

That's not flirting, that's way beyond it. Spencer is practically in your lap, and you —wouldn't hug anyone on your birthday, didn't tell them where you were for four days when you had appendicitis until you were forced, cold, lone wolf you— look like you're about to cuddle him close and whisper sweet nothings in his ear. 

You're in your own little world. 

"I stopped expecting her to push him off twenty minutes ago," Derek says, as seemingly unbothered as Rossi. 

"Don't tell me you knew about this," Emily says incredulously. 

"They've been going on dates." 

"They what?" 

You laugh happily at Spencer's side, pointing at a specific line with the tip of your fingernail. "When asked, Moroscova said that the length of his stay was an act of perjury," you read. 

Spencer laughs at your quotation, sharing a secret smile with you. "That haircut is an act of perjury." 

Your eyes glow with a look Hotch knows well. Haley looked at him like that for years. "Thanks for reading this with me. I know I'm slow." 

"You're not slow. I'm really fast. There's a difference."

It's the definition of young love, Hotch thinks, all those heartfelt reassurances disguised as brags, stolen touches, Spencer's knuckles stroking up and down your outer thigh. 

He turns back to his book and you stare at the side of his face. It's a little heartbreaking. Hotch knows if things don't work out between you, you'll take it hard. Your affection for Spencer has always been in the silent things, undulating, until lately: you listen to him talk when nobody else has the patience, what must amass to hours and hours of stories and statistics; you defend him at every turn, in every precinct in every city; when Spencer has a hard time, you refuse to rest until he feels better. The case before this one, the unsub beat you across the face with the handle of his gun, and you leaned out of the ambulance with your eye glued shut to make sure Spencer got anaesthetic before his stitches. You look at him like he's hanging the moon in real time. 

"Okay, that's too much," Derek says. Hotch detects a hint of brotherly affection in it, but mostly disgust. 

You raise your gaze from Spencer's chest, the breezy smile playing on your lips flattening into a hard line. You send Derek your fiercest glare, him being the first in your line of sight, and Emily gets the shock of her life when you turn and narrow your eyes at her, too. 

Emily smiles widely. "Hey, how's it going over there?" she asks. 

"Why are you guys looking at me?" you ask. 

"You can't guess?" Derek says.

"If I could guess, I wouldn't have asked." 

Hotch gives you a disapproving look. Tone it down, Agent. 

"I just wanna know what's so interesting," you say, leaning into indifference.  

Spencer looks up from his book. "What?" 

"Nothing," you say, your tone gentler in a capacity only profilers might notice. "Don't worry about it."

Spencer sits up and your eyebrows pinch down. Hotch wants to save it and he also doesn't get paid enough. Everything works out in the end, he thinks, not believing himself even slightly as he gets up to make a cup of coffee at the back of the jet. Your sullen tones hardly reach him through the curtain and over the sound of the hot water kettle, Spencer's puzzled reassuring even quieter. 

[ari-ana-bel-la]

Charles Version

♡ Mama and Papa are here

♡ Leo, the bodyguard

♡ Lost and found

♡ his strong, independent girl

♡ a weekend to remember

♡ Best Friends Forever

♡ Our little miracle

♡ Sweet young love

♡ Stay Hydrated

♡ A Special First Haircut

♡ Papa is here

♡ Little Heartbreak

♡ Little Swimmer

♡ Homework in the Paddock

♡ She's Monegasque, not French

[majesticwren]

ok I'm deceased

put up a grave for me

"I still love you, Will. I think a part of me always will."

[whizzing-fizzbee]

I Remember

Sebastian Sallow x GN!Reader

Rating: PG (death, mild violence) Words: 5,339 Tags: G/N reader, G/N MC, angst, grief, mourning, death, love, hurt no comfort, heartbreak, sad Sebastian Sallow

Summary: You died during your seventh year at Hogwarts before you could tell your best friend, Sebastian Sallow, how much you loved him. But when he discovers a box of your pensieve memories, he learns the comforting, yet cruel truth.

Notes: This is a little different from my usual smutty crackfics. So enjoy a bit of angst and have no fear, I’ll be back with more of my usual work soon.

Read on AO3 or below the cut.

Sebastian Sallow hadn’t been a fan of birthdays in years. He shared his own with a twin sister who no longer cared to speak to him. Their parents hadn’t been alive to celebrate with them in ten years, and now, you – the only person he ever loved romantically – were also gone.

Now, people couldn’t help but whisper and wonder if death favored poor Sebastian Sallow.

Life had been far too cruel to Sebastian for him to care about something as flippant as his seventeenth birthday – especially when it was the first birthday he’d spend without you.

Sebastian never told you how he felt. He could never quite find the words or the right time. A teenage boy plagued by so many misfortunes couldn’t be expected to understand such love anyway. All he knew was his eyes constantly searched for you in every room. He knew he craved lapsang souchong tea, because that’s what you drank – bold and smoky, just like you. And he knew that he would have died for you, without question, if he’d only been a little faster.

It happened three months ago, though it replayed in Sebastian’s mind with such frequency and clarity, it could have happened three days ago, for all he knew. 

The two of you had ventured into the Scottish Highlands in search of dittany leaves for a potion. It had been a soft, serene morning punctuated by a mild breeze and the maternal kind of sunshine that embraced you with warmth, offering no inclination you’d endure your demise that day.

After all, you’d eliminated Ranrok and his loyalists. You’d saved Hogwarts – and wizardkind – all while helping the Keepers preserve the secret of your ancient magic in the repository. Your biggest fears these days were Potions exams and Imelda Reyes’ taxing quidditch practices.

But poachers and Ashwinders remained, operating under new unscrupulous undertakings. You knew that – you eliminated them whenever you encountered them – but you hadn’t expected them to be camped outside of Keenbridge that day.

You and Sebastian laughed and joked, unaware that those three Ashwinders were very aware of your presence. So while the two of you cackled about Puffskein Duncan’s hideous new haircut, those Ashwinders were watching. They observed as you gathered your potion ingredients and stashed them inside your bag. They saw the way you tried to shove Sebastian in a creek when he teased you. They noticed the way Sebastian’s eyes lingered on you as you drank from a canteen you’d nicked from Gladwin Moon.

But they didn’t care. And then they struck. 

They ambushed you both when your guards were down, your eyes too busy clinging to each other and your thoughts too consumed by your pounding hearts.

An Incarcerous spell struck Sebastian first, whipping ropes around his hands and feet so that he fell at your side. You knelt to help him, shielding you both with Protego until you managed to hit one Ashwinder with a stunning spell. 

Another Ashwinder drove you backward with a slew of spell combinations, leaving Sebastian bound and helpless in the grass. He writhed and jerked in desperation. You took the second Ashwinder on, your eyes shifting between her and Sebastian. And when you saw the third Ashwinder approaching him, you lost all regard for anything but him. 

“Expelliarmus!” you shouted as you disarmed the third Ashwinder. You sent another cast at Sebastian, freeing him from his bindings so that he could scramble to his feet. You caught his gaze, admired those deep brown eyes, and he smirked at you. The two of you had been in similar scenarios more times than you could remember. And you always walked away unscathed.

And then, the explosion sent you backward. The Ashwinder you had been fighting seized that opportunity when you were lost in Sebastian and sent you flying off your feet until you toppled over the edge of a cliff.

You fell and fell, a slow-motion stage exit to the grand production of your short life. It was quite a letdown of a finale. Surely someone with experience like yours would die in a much more grandiose manner than a few lowly Ashwinders.

The last thing you heard was Sebastian’s scream before your body returned to the earth. Your soul never did, though.

So while Sebastian managed to escape those Ashwinders with his life, he walked away from that day drained of his will to continue surviving.

He’d lost nearly every person close to him. It made him question everything – his purpose, his resolve, and every choice that had led to so many devastating conclusions.

He had to be the one to apparate back to the Hogwarts grounds with your body. He could still hear the whispers – then the screams – as your fellow students realized what had happened. He sat through your funeral while Headmaster Black prattled on some performative prose about how wonderful you were. Then he clung to a corner of the Slytherin Common Room while your housemates drifted past, mumbling their condolences. 

And then, whatever spell had been placed on the world was lifted. Hogwarts was no longer frozen in time. Your classmates returned to their studies and professors went about their lessons. The morose hallways reignited with their old energy, ringing with jubilant chatter. Even the weather moved on, its summer blossoms and laughing waters wilting amid a cold cast of clouds and decay.

Life carried on for everyone but Sebastian. He remained there with you, rooted to the spot in time where he watched your spirited life reach its screeching halt. While everyone else drifted forward, Sebastian lingered in place, searching for you in every new moment while the old ones anchored him to his anguish. 

It had become a canon event in Sebastian’s life, a familiar foe he couldn’t outrun. He lost someone he loved, the world felt sorry for him, and then it moved on. It left Sebastian lonely and isolated, smothered by a grief few others could comprehend. Hogwarts had been his home for years, but your absence made him homesick.

That’s why no one blamed Sebastian for hating his birthday today. No one even dared to approach him, except Ominis in the morning. He urged Sebastian to eat but left when he was met with a cool response. It made no difference. Sebastian had mastered the art of saying words he didn't believe, even if Ominis saw right through them. Instead of attending classes, Sebastian retreated to the Undercroft.

The dark, damp dungeon missed you desperately. When Sebastian first introduced you to the space, you had insisted on tidying it up. You used scrubbing spells to clean the surfaces and fire spells to clear the cobwebs; then you used Professor Weasley’s conjuration spells to add furniture and desks. You even placed thoughtful little trinkets to a tabletop, a touch that reflected your desire to add warmth and comfort wherever you went.

But now, the Undercroft was achingly empty in your absence. Though the traces of your previous presence lingered, the room’s creaks and groans seemed to whimper for your return. The surfaces had collected dust and the floors were dingy again, desperate to be disrupted by your tread. The braziers were dimmer, begging for a blast of your fiery existence. 

Sebastian hated that room now. It was once his recluse; his safe space meant only for him and the three people he cared about. But now that your handprints were all over it, it was lacking the life you had once breathed into it. 

Sebastian left the Undercroft and ascended the Astronomy Tower. When the Room of Requirement appeared for him, he strode right in. It would provide him with whatever it was he needed.

He visited your room often, simply to stand and feel its pulse. You were everywhere. And unlike the Undercroft, you lingered with life here. Sometimes, Sebastian sat on a sofa in the side room until he dozed off. Other times, he’d venture into the vivariums to check on its inhabitants. Most times, he merely felt ; the room seemed to know Sebastian wanted to remember you, and it often hummed with a calm, quiet murmur reminiscent of your soothing tone.

Today, the room seemed to know Sebastian was in need of a birthday gift. As he wandered toward the side room, his eyes scanning the bookshelves you’d filled with your – and Sebastian’s – favorite novels, his eyes fell on a trunk. He had never noticed it before. 

Sebastian frowned and eyed the trunk’s lid. There was no lock on it. 

After you died, your friends had been careful with your belongings. Sebastian kept everything of sentimental value in a trunk of his own, from your school robes to the notebooks containing your scribbles about ancient magic. Everything that mattered to you was in his care now, so it struck him as odd that there’d be a secret trunk in your Room of Requirement.

Sebastian swallowed, unsure of what he would find as he kneeled over the trunk and waved his wand. The lid clicked open and he lifted it, revealing some old clothes. Sebastian blinked. It all seemed rather anticlimactic. But as he lifted an old sweater from the top of the pile, he stilled.

The familiar S.S. initials were embroidered across the left breast. He had wondered what happened to this sweater and assumed it was lost in the laundry ages ago. Beneath it, was a scarf. His school scarf. 

At the very bottom of the trunk was a package – a small box wrapped in brown paper with your familiar scrawl in ink. You had written his name across the top.

Sebastian stared at it, as if lifting it from the trunk would shift the paradigm of his universe. But curiosity was Sebastian’s Achilles, and he soon found himself setting his old clothes aside for the package.

He brushed dust from the top of the wrapped box, his fingers tracing over his own name as if the ink you’d left would leech into his fingertips, absorbing you with it.

He treated the paper with the utmost care, peeling it slowly away from the box to ensure it wouldn’t tear. It revealed an old wooden box, unremarkable and unassuming. Sebastian turned it over carefully, the sounds of delicate glass tinkling from inside. Once he confirmed there were no markings or inscriptions on the box, he flipped it back over and snapped the top open.

Inside was a folded sheet of old parchment and a set of tiny glass vials, each filled with clear liquid. Dust clung to the vials, leaving Sebastian’s fingers dingy as he examined each one for clues revealing their contents. Each cylinder was labeled with a date so small, Sebastian had to squint to see them.

He set the box on the floor next to the trunk and carefully unfolded the old parchment with both hands. Again, your familiar handwriting revealed itself.

Dear Sebastian,

Happy birthday! Please view these pensieve memories on your own time, in private. You’ll understand once you see them. Then come find me when you feel the time is right, no pressure. 

Love always, Your kindred spirit

Sebastian smiled. Your voice echoed in his mind and ears, like you were reading the letter aloud right next to him. He hadn’t smiled at the memory of you since you died.

Instead, his grief had crawled into every crevice of his brain and body, constricting him into a body bind of immobilizing heartache. It clamped down on his veins and arteries and cut off his blood supply. His brain screamed for some semblance of life. It left his nerve endings void of all sensation and pooled in the pit of his stomach, an omnipresent offering of torment and guilt.

Sebastian scrambled to his feet, cradling the box in his arm as if it contained the most important secrets in the world. To him, it did.

He scurried from the Room of Requirement and retreated back to the Undercroft, now grateful for its quiet seclusion. He set the box carefully on a table and sorted through each vial until he found the one with the earliest date.

After he uncorked it, his hand shook as it hovered above the pensieve. Its swirling liquid seemed to beckon him, pleading for memories to resurrect it back to life. But Sebastian hesitated, fearful for what lay on the other side of this moment.

He trusted you more than anyone, but you clearly had meant for these memories to remain a secret until the right moment. Sebastian was sure you’d packaged them up under the assumption you’d be alive for his birthday. What if your death had changed everything and these memories were supposed to die with you?

The last thing Sebastian wanted was to betray or dishonor you. Your life had been so full of intention – from your determination to stop Ranrok to your sincere endeavors to help cure Anne’s curse. Sebastian wanted to preserve your memory with love and admiration. But these were his memories now. You’d wanted to share them with him and he would honor that, no matter their contents, no matter the cost.

Sebastian tipped the vial and watched a single drop ripple across the pensieve’s surface. It glimmered and swirled, stirring wispy trails in its gentle wakes. Sebastian didn’t wait to plunge his face in.

More smoke swept past him and he hurtled straight into the Slytherin Common Room. He immediately spotted himself, pacing in front of the fireplace with his nose in a book. He recognized this moment better than his own wand. 

And then you appeared. You paused behind the sofa and watched Sebastian curiously. He had never noticed that. Your eyes studied him until he finally looked up from his book.

Sebastian had to watch himself meet you for the first time all over again. It tugged at his heartstrings, twisting and tightening them inside his chest. You were right there, mere feet from him, but he couldn’t reach out and touch you.

He watched as you introduced yourself and smiled as you inquired about his book. He told you not every useful spell could be found in assigned textbooks, to which you expressed your intrigue. And that was when Sebastian declared you kindred spirits; the phrase that would connect the two of you by an unseen thread for life.

Sebastian was uncertain why you chose to return him to this particular memory. He remembered it far too fondly to need a refresher. But as he watched your first meeting come to an end, he noticed as you walked away and paused to turn, your gaze lingering on his form long after he had returned his attention to his book. 

He hadn’t known that happened.

The memory ended and thrust him back to the Undercroft, where Sebastian stilled to process your replay of your first meeting. What was he meant to take away from such a simple moment? Of course, the events that followed had been anything but simple. You became the most complex person to ever enter Sebastian’s life.

He fumbled quickly through the remaining vials for the next and wasted no time tapping another drop into the pensieve. This memory seemed to shimmer and sparkle as it dispersed across the pensieve’s cloudy waters. Sebastian drew a breath and dipped his head.

This one was clearly Christmastime. You, Sebastian and Ominis were cozied up in the common room. You were seated between the two boys on the sofa, a blanket thrown across your lap while you clutched a mug of cocoa in your hand. Ominis looked relaxed, a rare change from his typical poise. Sebastian slouched lazily in his seat, a box of Bertie Bott’s Every Flavour Beans in his lap. The fire crackled as you laughed at one of Ominis’ dry remarks, though your eyes were on Sebastian.

He watched as you smiled at his pensieve form, warmth radiating from your gaze. Your lips curved as you teased him about his tousled hair, to which he became indignant and tossed a jelly bean at you. You squealed and nearly splashed your cocoa on Ominis, who squawked in displeasure.

You picked up the jelly bean and chucked it back at Sebastian, who caught it and popped it in his mouth before his features contorted in disgust.

“I think that one was dirt-flavored,” he whined. 

“Good, serves you right,” you declared happily. Sebastian’s pensieve version reached toward you to give your hair a sharp, playful tug. You swatted his hand away and laughed wildly, all while Ominis chided you and Sebastian for making a mess.

It was another moment Sebastian had committed to his own reserve of memories with clarity and fondness. But again, your version was different. 

This time, he noticed the way you noticed him. Your eyes never left him, even when Ominis spoke. You leaned closer to him, your body nearly touching his when you teased him. And then there was the moment your hands brushed – completely innocuous – but Sebastian noticed the way your breath hitched and your cheeks flushed. His did the same.

He watched as Ominis yawned and declared it was time for bed. Your mutual friend said goodnight and disappeared toward the boys’ dormitories, leaving you and Sebastian’s pensieve form in each other’s company.

The pair sat and talked quietly, an occasional giggle interrupting your murmurs, until the fire waned to soft embers and you dozed off on his shoulder. That was one of Sebastian’s favorite memories.

But he remembered the subtle smell of your hair, the warmth of your body and the soft breaths that sighed from your lips during your slumber. He didn’t remember what happened once he fell asleep.

And so he watched as the memory shifted like a leap in time, and then you stirred, likely in the middle of the night. You lifted your head and peered upward at Sebastian, smiling as you watched him sleep. Your chest swelled and eyes softened until you gently returned your head to his shoulder until the morning.

As the memory came to a close, Sebastian began to wonder. What were you trying to tell him? What did those stolen glances and secret smiles mean? 

The third memory surged inside the pensieve when the liquid met the surface. This one stirred a storm of dark and volatile streaks, which made Sebastian scared to see its contents. But once again, he dipped his head with bated breath.

He recognized the Feldcroft catacomb immediately. And in a sudden rush, he watched himself sprint past, toward the exit. Sebastian couldn’t forget this moment if he tried – and he often did.

“Sebastian!” you cried as you jogged into view. Tears streamed down your cheeks and your face was bleeding from your fight with Solomon. You begged Sebastian to stop, but he was far too gone – in every sense of the phrase – to even acknowledge you.

Shame surged through Sebastian as he relived one of the worst moments of his life. He followed after you as you pleaded with his pensieve version to wait until you eventually stopped calling his name.

But when you reached the exit, the memory shifted and Sebastian was thrust to your dormitory. This scene was new to him. 

His expression fell as he watched you sink to the floor, your body hitching with violent sobs. Your hair was still disheveled, robes torn and tattered, and blood streaked across your cheek from the fight in the catacomb. Sebastian had never seen you so anguished. The sight would haunt him the same way your death would. 

He stood in the corner of the room, tears welling in his eyes as he watched you unravel, scared and alone. You sobbed so hard your chest heaved and your stomach lurched. 

The scene blurred again until Sebastian was returned to the Undercroft, this time as a voyeur. He caught his breath as he watched you plead with Ominis to refrain from turning him in for killing Solomon. 

“I don’t want to lose Sebastian, but I don’t think we have a choice,” Ominis said. 

“We do have a choice,” you insisted. “What good would it do if we turn him in now? He clearly regrets everything. He’s not going to do anything like this again.”

“We both heard that before,” Ominis argued. 

“But we also need to think about Anne. She’s lost her health. Now she’s lost her uncle. Do you really want to take her brother away from her too?” you pushed. 

When Ominis finally relented, Sebastian watched as more tears streamed over your cheeks. Your eyes were empty, no longer brimming with your bold energy. Sebastian had drained it from you. The realization shattered his heart. 

“You really care about him, don’t you?” Ominis asked you. 

“I care about them both,” you answered. “I know Anne doesn’t much care for me, but Sebastian needs her… and I need him.”

“You love him, don’t you?” Ominis asked quietly. 

You nodded in response. “I do.”

Ominis sighed, though it was evident he wasn’t surprised by your revelation. You and Sebastian were as clear as diamonds — and as hard as them, too. As much as it frustrated Ominis, he knew it was also what made the two of you so simpatico. You understood Sebastian on a profound level few others could even scrape.

“You’ve got to save him,” Ominis whispered. “He can’t save himself. He’s too far gone. You have to be the one to help him. You’re the only one.”

You nodded in understanding, your cheeks now raw and red from the salty sting of your tears. 

“I will,” you said softly. “I love him too much to lose him to this.”

The memory ended and Sebastian swished back to the Undercroft, now in its present state. He gripped the edge of the pensieve to hold himself upright, its cold stone pressed hard against his fingers. He was crying now, his breath shaky as he fought for air. 

His legs gave way and he collapsed to the floor on his knees, his body bent in child’s pose as he choked on his own sobs. He remained there until his bones seemed to disintegrate. His body felt like a vacant home left to rot into ruins.

You loved him. He watched you admit it. You loved him, and you fought for him. When others wanted to give up on him, you were ready to step closer. You vowed to save him because he had meant that much to you. 

And you had succeeded. Because once your fifth year ended, you inserted yourself to Sebastian’s side, an extension of his own body. You resurrected him from the cavernous clutches of dark magic and desperation, and revived him with renewed energy. You let him lean on you in the days that followed Solomon’s death. You talked him through his guilt and reminded him he was worthy of a good life that shouldn’t be defined by his past. You refused to allow him to punish himself, but ensured he was remorseful for what he did. You showed him what it meant to become redemption. 

Your empathy and understanding nursed Sebastian back to his old form – the charming, friendly and resourceful boy he was before your fifth year – the boy you had never even met. You were his savior, not because you needed another person to rescue, but because saving Sebastian from himself also saved you.  

After all the evil you’d endured, you needed to believe that people could still be good. You needed reassurance that light could still outshine dark. And you needed to know if your love would be enough for someone, even if it wasn’t reciprocated.

Because the one thing that saved you and Sebastian Sallow both was your best shared attribute: your optimism. 

Sebastian lay curled up on the floor of the Undercroft for a good hour. He was overcome with grief, guilt and regret, and they all clashed at once, straining his heart until he was certain it would sever inside his chest.

What if he had simply told you he loved you? Maybe it wouldn’t have prevented your death, but at least you would have known. At least you would have died with a full heart and the comfort that the boy you cared about the most needed you in all the same ways. 

And selfishly, maybe you would have told Sebastian you loved him, too. 

When silence returned to the Undercroft after Sebastian’s sobs subsided, he sat up, his weight supported back on his hands. There was still one vial remaining.

He wasn’t sure he had the energy to witness any more monumental memories, but truly, he had no choice. He wouldn’t rest until he understood every message you were trying to send him. He owed you that, at the very least.

Sebastian gathered himself up off the floor to retrieve the last vial. He was cool and clammy, which caused him to grip the vial particularly hard amid concern he would drop it. As he tilted it over the pensieve with a shaking hand, it splashed and shimmered streaks of gold that reminded him of sun rays.

He recognized this memory instantly. It had taken place a week before you died. The two of you snuck out of the castle to explore another old cave. You weren’t looking for anything in particular, other than an adventure. Sometimes, the two of you merely created your own expeditions for old time’s sake.

This one led you all the way to the Clagmar Coast. Once you determined the cave housed nothing more than a chest of old spectacles, you and Sebastian decided to sit and watch the stars under the cover of the cave’s secluded opening. It overlooked the sea, which shimmered beneath the moon. You could hear the churns of the waves smashing into the cliffside below, but not even the surf’s rumble could drown out the slamming heart inside your chest.

You hugged your knees as you sat close enough to Sebastian that you could feel his warmth. The salt air whipped through your hair and he laughed as you struggled to keep it in place, finally admitting defeat when it plastered itself to your face.

Sebastian watched as you shivered. He had chided you for wearing only a knit jumper, even though he had done the same. What he hadn’t known was that your shivers weren’t from the cold. As so when he draped an arm around you and pulled you close against his body to keep you warm, your own body shuddered more. You welcomed its response because it meant he’d hold you even tighter. You did this more often than you’d ever admit – sometimes you pretended to be cold just so Sebastian would hold you.

Sebastian had dwelled on this memory at a damn near obsessive rate. His head had become a vast vault of moments with you, each one stored away in meticulous order that would make Madam Scribner proud. But this one sat on the nearest shelf, within easy reach so that he could call upon it often.

He hadn’t known it would be one of his final fond memories of you. 

But again, your version was different.

Because this variant exposed everything. The moonlight cast itself over your eyes, which softened every time Sebastian glanced at you. But as you snuggled closer to him, Sebastian watched as you squeezed them shut. They looked like a camera shutter, committing the moment to the film inside your head.

And then you stole one more glance up at Sebastian’s pensieve form and your eyes screamed louder than the waves below. You gazed at your freckled friend with so much love, it made Sebastian’s chest cave as he watched.

You didn’t speak. You didn’t utter the words that were perched on the tip of your tongue. You didn’t have to. Neither of you did. 

Finally, Sebastian understood. 

That was the beauty of it all. For all of your unspoken words, your silent declarations, and your desperate desires, you were both enough. 

You and Sebastian adored each other in secret and in silence. But you lived and loved out loud. 

And though you both wished you could have experienced that love to its full extent and in its truest form – raw, real and unrestrained – what you did share was enough.

So when Sebastian returned to the Undercroft for the final time, the last of your pensieve memories complete, he sank back to the floor with his back pressed against the wall.

Because even though he understood now, even though he realized he’d always carried your love, he was in mourning.

He mourned the romance you’d never have. He mourned your future cut short by the sharp, cruel blade of an unfair fate. And he mourned your memories – all of them – because this wasn’t how you’d intended him to see them. 

He was supposed to view them and then sprint to you. Had you been alive, he likely would have found you tucked away in a quiet corner of the library or en route to the Three Broomsticks for butterbeers with Poppy and Natty. He would have chased you down and told you he’d seen all the memories. He would have told you he loved you, too. The two of you would have laughed at how silly you’d been. And then he would have kissed you and stolen you away from whatever endeavor you had going on to make up for lost time.

But now, you’d lost more than time and nothing would make up for it. It would gnaw away at Sebastian forever. 

But the worst part was he couldn’t save you. He could return to your memories to see you again, but he couldn’t touch you, couldn’t feel you, couldn’t speak with you or reach out to pull you to safety. He couldn’t bring you back.

Soon, those memories would be gone, too. The vials you left were no bigger than Sebastian’s index finger. They’d run empty if he revisited the pensieve too often. He hated how he had to ration you like this. You loved each other. He deserved you with boundless abundance.

And though you’d found a way to tell him how you felt, he would never have the chance to tell you. He silently prayed you somehow secretly knew, but you deserved more than the cowardice of unspoken words. You deserved a loud and vibrant love, obnoxious to those who envied you and beautiful to those who understood you.

And then Sebastian realized. 

He scurried from the Undercroft, your vials left in their box to be retrieved later. Right now, he had to get to you.

You were buried just south of Hogsmeade, near the observation platform that overlooked the South Hogwarts region and the castle. It was your favorite place, because you said it presented you with a perfect view of home and everything you loved. 

When Sebastian reached your grave, he fell to his knees before it. Tears returned to his eyes and he choked back a sob.

“I saw them,” he sputtered. “I saw everything – all of your pensieve memories. I wish you’d told me. I wish we could have known how it felt to be together. And I wish I could have told you how much I love you, too.”

And then he wept. He wept for himself, for you, and for the universe that had to continue its existence without the privilege of your presence. 

He cried until every emotion had poured itself from his eyes into the soil of your grave. He prayed his tears would seep six feet under and find their way to you. You had given him your tears – they now sat in those tiny little vials that Sebastian would treasure forever. The least he could do was gift you with his, even if it was his birthday.

He stopped celebrating for good that year, electing to instead spend every birthday returning to your pensieve memories until one day, those were gone, too. 

[balrogballs]

Notes on Elrond, Gilraen and the Co-Parenting of Kings

Gilraen spends all of Estel’s Terrible Twos and Threes being completely and rightfully done with Elrond because the latter would accidentally undo any disciplinary decision the two of them make. Elrond and Gilraen would say, for instance, no sweets until dinner. Gilraen would stick to this but toddler Estel soon learns that it takes only 5-7 minutes of crying until Elrond both gives in and apologises to him for the delay. Gilraen is firmly convinced that the child’s toddler phase lasting twice as long as normal is entirely Elrond’s fault.

Gilraen has to deal with Elrond’s habit of saying completely unhinged stuff in plain view of Valar and Eldar. Once, baby Estel was wailing in his arms and had to be passed over to Gilraen because he was hungry, so she pulls on a scarf and starts breastfeeding the child. Elrond stands around looking morose and she feels sorry for him, assuming he was sad about his wife or something normal. That is, until he pipes up with “I wish I could do that” and “it hurts my feelings to know I cannot meet all his needs”. He is taken aback when Gilraen asks him what the fuck is wrong with him.

She’s the first person outside his close circle that he talks to about Celebrían, and oh boy does he TALK. Gilraen has never met the woman, but often feels like Cel is her very best friend, due to how much she knows about her.

Though there is absolutely zero romantic feeling between the two, Gilraen and Elrond spend the 20 years of Estel’s youth bickering like an old married couple. It gives them both an odd sense of normalcy and, in a way, relief from grief over their respective spouses. Would Gilraen and Elrond ever admit that the 20 hours they spent arguing over how often Estel needed haircuts and what style said cuts should be were some of the most fun they’ve had since their bereavements? No, but that doesn’t make it any less true.

When Estel was young enough for bedtime stories, they would alternate nights between them, with Elrond telling him stories of the First Age, and Gilraen telling him adventure stories of men and rangers. Estel’s favourite nights though, are the ones in which they collaborate and tell long, convoluted, nonsensical stories and argue over the existence of morals, teaming up to force the El-twins and Glorfindel to act as glorified puppets.

Elrond, who cannot exactly gossip with other elves due to his status, discovers his inner mean girl only in his friendship with Gilraen. The two of them are massive bitches, no two ways about it, to the point they even lock eyes at public dinners when someone is wearing something particularly gaudy or ostentatious (usually Glorfindel) and giggle away about it later. Straight up preteen girl shit, unashamed and unapologetic, to the point they have a set of inside jokes about most people in Imladris, including their children. If you think they sound like wine mums, that’s because they do. Cont’d under cut.

When Estel is thirteen, he faces his first heartbreak and goes to his mother, who quizzes the tearful boy about what happened. Estel explains that he had a crush on some girl from a village outside the valley and, on advice from an unnamed source, spent the past year not saying a word about it until the girl went and got herself an actual boyfriend. Estel doesn’t share the source of said advice, but that does not stop Gilraen marching into Elrond’s study with “when I said you should instruct my son to be like you, I meant in war and lore, not the art of being a tongue-tied twit!”

When Aragorn told his mother of his betrothal to Arwen, she congratulated him and told him she was happy for him. She also forced him to go to Elrond and confess properly, though he knew, and refused to intervene on her son’s behalf or ask his foster father to temper his anger. And after Aragorn went back out as a ranger and Arwen went to Lothlorien, it was Gilraen who went to Elrond’s study and sat with him for hours.

When she leaves to return to her people, he understands and obviously allows it. That doesn’t mean he doesn’t stop being a pain in her ass, mind you. At least once or twice a year, he would travel up to stay at her house and they would drink and chat and argue for hours, to the point that their neighbours simply refuse to believe that the weirdo in the garden trying to mansplain seed transplanting to Gilraen was, in fact, the ancient and esteemed Lord of Imladris. Imagine Gandalf but insufferable, and that’s what Elrond is for this specific Dunedain neighbourhood.

He does, of course, note as she ages and it begins to visibly grieve him. She notices this and on one visit, catching him look at her like he cannot bear to do this any longer, takes him aside and tells him not to come again, “because I will only grow older. Because my hair will turn whiter and my face more wrinkled and perhaps my teeth will fall out, my skin will sag, and I will forget who you are. And then one day I will stop growing old and I think watching a thing like this twice over will be the end of you”. He understands mercy disguised as cruelty more than most, and though there are many tears on both sides, he respects her decision.

Elrond understandably feels out of place and too small for his own skin in the immediate aftermath of Arwen and Aragorn’s wedding and takes to wandering aimlessly in his own gardens until he comes across the old memorial sculpture he had commissioned of Gilraen, and in a characteristic burst of eccentricity, starts chatting with it about the wedding. Tells her how ridiculous Glorfindel looked, how Aragorn fumbled the necklace (“butterfingers, Gilly, just like his mother!”), how he had to make Arwen take off the godawful tiara Celeborn got her and wear something normal, and how she would have “loved Bilbo Baggins, he’d have fit right in at our brunches”. It was absolutely batshit, him sitting there talking at a marble statue, but it was, in its strange way, incredibly comforting.

[holyblonded]

more of jenni and estrella?

— jenni is estrella’s original safe place. when ale first took her in, jenni was the one who softened the sharp corners of estrella’s new life. estrella used to sneak into their room late at night, quiet as a shadow, and jenni would always lift the covers without saying a word, letting her curl between them.

— they had a secret handshake that they refused to teach anyone else. ale tried to learn it once—got halfway through and gave up when they started laughing too hard to continue.

— when jenni and ale broke up, estrella didn’t speak for two days. she walked around like a ghost. ale was scared she’d never forgive her. but one night, there was a knock at the door, and there jenni was—soft smile, arms open, saying “no one’s taking me away from you, mi diabla.” estrella threw herself into her arms and sobbed so hard she hiccupped for an hour.

— estrella still texts jenni first when something ridiculous happens. a weird dream, a bad haircut someone on the team got, a new goal celebration idea—jenni gets them all. she saves every one.

— jenni calls her “mi diabla” or “mi cielo” and no one else is allowed to. when someone else tries, estrella shuts it down with a glare and a firm “that’s hers.”

— when estrella was going through her first heartbreak, it was jenni who took her out for milkshakes and told her stories about the dumbest things she’d done for love. estrella laughed so hard she cried again, but it helped.

— every birthday, estrella gets a handwritten letter from jenni. she keeps them in a little wooden box on her shelf, tucked beside old polaroids and bracelets made of yarn. she rereads them when she’s overwhelmed. they always help.

— when people ask if they’re related, estrella grins and says, “she’s not my mom, but she raised me like one.” and jenni always chimes in, “my favorite troublemaker.”

[pintrestgrl]

you said angst so... jj x kook!reader JJs starts pushing pogues and reader away and when reader tries to get through to JJ, he says awful things to reader hitting her/them below the belt by bringing up her trauma and the fact she/they are a kook. maybe she completly ices him and the pogues out(bc the pogues forgave him) and start hanging out with kooks. maybe the topper/rafe/kelce trio to really drive home she doesn't care about them anymore. maybe she's even there when pope and jj get beat up? IDK i thought this up off the top of my head. i don't reader crying in the shower heartbreaking sob fest angst. also i left what her supposed trauma up to you bc i don't know how far you're willing to go with that.

-💐

okay i lied. i’m doing this one bc it intrigued me.. lol. but also hi 💐 anon !! ur not overwhelming me i love all the asks, it’s just a matter of energy lol. but love u !!

i actually am proud of this and how i wrote it, i rlly like it 🥹.

i will get out more posts today, likely 2-3. 4 if i get drink an alani lmao.

mean!jj x sensitive!kook!reader.

you had always known jj, due to the small size of the island. however, you just started getting closer with him the past few weeks.

you had always seen into him more then others did, even from afar.

you noticed the bruises on his cheeks, and how they’d fade over the next few days. you noticed when he’d gotten a haircut, likely from john b. you didn’t know why, but you found him interesting.

you probably shouldn’t have, considering your brother — rafe, absolutely hated him. he was a bad kid, you always saw him getting arrested with the rest of the pogues.

the reason you two started getting closer, was due to a drunken hookup you had a misunderstanding on. clearly, he looked at it as any other girl he would hook up with, no feelings and not a thought about it again.

you however, looked at it way different. you really genuinely liked him, truly. you didn’t care about any of the bad rumors about him, you didn’t see him as just the bad. you saw the good too.

a few days ago, you went to the chateau to see jj. you hadn’t talked to him since the hookup, expect for minor greetings. you wanted to get to know him more. understand him, fully and completely.

it’s safe to say it didn’t go well. you sat him down, explaining how you really did like him. he listened at first, but as soon as you started trying to open him up, he immediately tensed.

you asked him about how come he always has those bruises on him, and where they’re from. he stood up immediately, scoffing at your attempt.

“you’re fuckin’ serious? you just came here to make fun of me?”

you shook your head quickly at his misunderstanding, explaining how that’s not what you meant at all.

“y’know, it’s not shit you would understand at all. you’re too much of a dumb pretty little ‘kook princess’ with no thoughts in her head to figure it out.”

you swallowed at his harsh words, tears filling your eyes. you opened your mouth to speak, but he just kept spewing more words out.

“ever think that’s why i didn’t talk to you after we hooked up? because we couldn’t ever be anything. i could never be with somebody like you.”

tears fell from your eyes at his words, trying to take deep breaths. you attempted to speak again, before he interrupted you.

“just save it, okay? go back to figure 8 where you belong.”

you let more tears fall, listening to him and gathering your stuff and leaving the chateau.

you walked home with tears down your face the whole time, thoughts stirring. was that really all he thought about you? just a kook who never had to worry about anything?

your tears eventually faded, feelings going numb from exhaustion.

when you got home, you pushed your way past your family, going upstairs to shower.

when you got in, you immediately broke down again. tears filling your eyes and streaming down your face.

you wanted jj to like you, you really did. but if he really had those thoughts of you, you needed to let him go. you couldn’t go on thinking about him, worrying, if your feelings weren’t reciprocated.

over the next few days, you left jj and every pogue alone. you noticed him around, though. you didn’t see the pogues around him, either. it seemed like he was avoiding them, just like you were avoiding him. he looked almost upset, everywhere he went too.

after a while, he got over whatever little mood he was in and you saw him laughing, running around with his friends again.

you however, were not over it. his words really hurt, and you couldn’t get them out of your head. but you knew you needed to give him the same treatment back.

so you decided to start hanging out with your friends too. you started going to the boneyard with topper, kelce, and rafe. you knew jj hated them, but you couldn’t bring yourself to show any care if you weren’t receiving any.

you left him alone for a while after that, silently thinking and worrying about him in your head instead.

you opted for watching from afar, both of you making awkward eye contact at times.

you still wondered where those bruises came from, and if you would ever know at all.

[pikachulads]

Falling into you

pairing: Caleb x reader

summary: Caleb was always there, but now, something’s changed. He’s different. You’re different. But neither of you can name it. Not yet.

word count: 4.8k

author's note: this is my first post in lads. Grammar mistakes? fuck i'd cry(but tell me, anyways). Also, I wrote it a little different. But, I mean, can you handle reliving the trauma you carry about Caleb? It is sweet though, ha.. The tension is intense. You better see it. Squint. Drown. Whatever you do. You better feel the tension.

The best part about growing up with your childhood friend is that you never have to explain yourself. You have someone who’s seen you throw tantrums and fall apart, someone who’s laughed at your worst haircut and stayed up with you through exam stress and friendship heartbreak. They know every embarrassing detail—every weakness—each tiny cross.

And if they’re still by your side after all that, they’re more than just loyal.

They’re home.

And when someone feels like home, you don’t question it. Not the comfort. Not the closeness. Not even the way your heart slows when they look at you like you're the only person in the room. Because it's always been this way.

Until one day, you do question it.

Because Caleb feels different somehow. It’s like watching someone you’ve known your whole life move through a dream—familiar, but just out of reach. You don’t recognize him through his expressions or the way his voice sounds deeper now.

You recognize him through your memories. Through the echo of every moment that once made you feel safe.

And now, he feels like both. Familiar and unfamiliar. Comfortable and unsettling.

You stare at yourself in the mirror, brush paused mid-stroke, and say out loud, “This is normal. A very normal thing to happen. We’re now grown-ups, afterall”.

Your voice sounds flat. Unconvincing. One glance at your face and anyone could see—you’re lying to yourself. You don’t believe it for a second.

It’s confusing. It’s disorienting. But that’s okay.

Because the readers of your story? They already know what’s coming. This is your laughable, syncronising, and heart wrenching canon event.

The chapter where you realize you’ve fallen in love with your childhood friend. (Like Caleb hasn’t been manifesting it for years.)

Stage One: Blind Spot

"You know, it’s sort of weird…” you say, tearing the wrapper off a bar of chocolate, letting the crinkle fill the comfortable silence of the kitchen.

Caleb’s back is to you.

He stands near the stove, shoulders relaxed but still carrying that quiet strength that never leaves him—even when he’s home. His blue shirt clings just right, outlining the sharp taper of his waist, the sculpted lines of his back, still faintly damp from a recent shower. The scent of soap and smoke and something so distinctly him lingers in the air between you.

He doesn’t turn. Doesn’t need to.

“Mmm? What is?” he murmurs, focused on his task—cutting mushrooms with those clean, practiced movements. Precise. Calm. Familiar.

He’s making Baoshao mushrooms—your favorite. Of course he is.

You lean in beside him, your hip brushing the counter as you scan the ingredients. Everything’s arranged perfectly, like always. Banana leaves, fresh garlic, spices. Your eyes catch on a small heap of cilantro and you blink.

“You’re using cilantro,” you say slowly. “But you hate cilantro.”

He chuckles, low and unbothered. Then he shifts his weight and rests his elbow on your shoulder like it’s the most natural thing in the world—like you don’t feel your skin tingle every time he does it.

“But you love it, don’t you?”

You bite off a piece of chocolate, staring him down. “I do not like it.”

“No?” he says, sounding almost amused.

“I don’t like you being selfless,” you mutter.

That gets him.

He pauses, knife hovering mid-air, then glances at you with that half-lidded expression he does so well. Calm, unreadable. Dangerous.

You frown and turn to reach for the cilantro, but his hand wraps around your waist before your fingers can touch it. In one smooth movement, he turns you toward him, pressing you back against the counter.

And you’re caught. Trapped.

Your breath stutters.

His arms on either side of you, body close enough that you feel the heat rising off him in slow waves. His scent fills your lungs—citrus and cedarwood and something deeper, something you can’t name. Your heart pounds, your hands still gripping the chocolate like a lifeline.

This isn’t how brothers hold. This isn’t how they look at you.

“C’mon, pipsqueak,” he says, eyes locked on yours. His voice is low, almost teasing—but there’s a flicker beneath it. “What’s this sudden concern for?”

He leans in, and you forget how to breathe. “You’re getting my hopes up,” he whispers, eyes dropping to your lips.

Your stomach flips. Hopes up…?

You open your mouth, but nothing comes out. Because he leans in even closer, dips his head—and takes a bite out of your chocolate bar. His lips brush your fingers, and his tongue, careless and warm, lingers for half a second too long against your thumb.

You freeze.

Then, like always, Caleb steps back. Unbothered. Calm. Like he didn’t just dismantle your nervous system with one touch.

“You get dramatic when you’re hungry,” he says, reaching for the banana leaves like the conversation never happened.

You stand there, blinking. Chocolate still in your hand. Pulse thundering in your ears. Something in your chest trying very hard to make sense of what just happened—and failing.

Because Caleb is just Caleb.

He’s always been there. Always been your home.

Your friend.

Your brother-but-not-by-blood.

But that look in his eyes just now? That warmth in your stomach?

It felt like something else.

And that part of you that leaned into it, just a little, just for a second? That part is louder than ever.

Still… it’s probably nothing. A weird blip in the system. You’re not the type to get emotional anyway.

Right?

Stage two: The flicker of Awareness

The thing about bad days is… you don’t always see them coming. They don’t crash into you like a wave. They seep. Slow and quiet. A missed text. A stupid argument. A little silence that lingers too long and starts to sting. By the time you realize something’s wrong, it’s already settled into your chest like fog.

You hadn’t planned to go outside today. Not after the fight with your best friend. Not after pretending to be okay all day. But a certain extrovert with full energy had shown up anyway. No warning. No questions. Just a casual knock, and a stupid smile.

Might wanna read the room, Caleb? You were in dumps!

Sigh.

The air was thick and warm, full of sugar and smoke and the sound of other people’s joy. It should’ve been nice. It might’ve been, if you hadn’t felt so off in your own skin.

“Ugh, it’s too hot,” you muttered, half-hoping he’d hear your misery.

But Caleb didn’t answer. You turned your head and suddenly—a ridiculous red sun hat flopped down over your eyes. It looked goofy, you looked exactly like a kid tailing with an adult.

Before you could protest, he pulled out a bright floral jacket from his bag.

“Nope. Not wearing that,” you said, backing away.

He just grinned. “Fine by me,” he said, draping the absurd thing over himself. “You gotta protect yourself against the sun in this weather, or you are making yourself into a heating pan to fry an egg.” The floral jacket, didn't even fit him. But, Caleb managed to look like he was content with it.

“You’re insane,” you muttered, trying not to smile.

“But you’re smiling,” he said, without looking at you.

He always notices.

Somewhere between the games and the food, the ache in your chest loosened. It didn’t vanish—but it dulled. Like maybe, for a few hours, you could just be someone who didn’t have things falling apart at the edges.

It was just you and Caleb enjoying the peak of being an adult. And that’s obviously playing unlimited gamed without the supervision of a greater adult!

Before you know it, it’s evening and despite a deeper darkness seeking-in, there were still a lot of people in the fair.

"Caleb, hurry!", you excitedly, call for him. Yet, when you turn around you see him no where around you. “Oh, no.”

You had somehow, lost him.

One second he was beside you, making some dumb joke about winning you a plushie. The next—gone. Swallowed by the crowd. You turned too quickly, panicked too fast, and ended up bumping into a stranger. Their heel slammed into your foot, hard.

You winced, hobbling back and tried to breathe.

And, as you find a place with a lesser crowd, you looked down.

The strap on your sandal had snapped.

And your toe—bleeding.

Of course.

You stared at it, teeth clenched. Embarrassed. Angry. Alone. Your phone had no signal. There was nowhere to sit. The crowd pressed too close. Everything felt too loud. Too much.

Your eyes burned.

You weren’t sure why.

It wasn’t just the sandal. Or the crowd. Or the pain.

It was the quiet way the world moved on without you. Like your bad day didn’t matter to anyone but you.

You blinked hard. Inhaled. “Stop it,” you whispered to no one. “You’re not a kid anymore.”

But the tears slipped through anyway.

It’s as if all the things you had forgotten were coming back to you at once. The tears kept rushing in, and you couldn't help as a sob escaped your lips. It felt embarrasing, and overwhelming.

It hurt.

And then—just as suddenly as he disappeared—Caleb was there.

His hand landed gently on your head. Not rushed. Not dramatic. Just there. Steady.

You didn’t even have to look up to know it was him.

“There you are,” he said softly. “I told you the hat was essential. Like a little red alert I could follow.”

You turned.

And before you could stop yourself, you leaned in.

Pressed your forehead to his chest, fingers curling into the front of that stupid jacket. He didn’t flinch. He didn’t say anything. He just wrapped his arms around you like it was the easiest thing in the world.

He always does.

“You okay?” he murmured, chin resting lightly against your temple.

You nodded. Lied.

He pulled back only enough to glance down at your foot—and stilled.

“What happened?” he asked, already crouching.

You shrugged. “I tripped. It’s nothing.”

But he looked up at your face, and whatever he saw there made him go quiet.

The next thing you knew, he’d turned around and crouched, arms steady.

“Get on,” he said, like it was obvious.

You hesitated. “Caleb, I can walk—”

“Not with that toe, you can’t.”

“I’ll survive.”

He looked over his shoulder, gaze soft but unwavering. “I know you will. But I’m not letting you limp through a fairground like some tragic drama heroine. So get on.”

You did.

Because he always had ways to get you to do things.

His back was warm. Broad. Familiar. You rested your cheek against it, letting yourself breathe. Just for a minute. Just long enough to forget you were supposed to be holding everything together.

He didn’t talk much after that.

But he listened.

He always listens. To the stuff you say. And the stuff you don’t.

And somewhere between the games and the silence and the ridiculous sun hat, you felt something shift. Not between you, exactly. Just… inside you.

Like the way your heart fluttered when he reached back to steady your legs. The way his hand lingered, gentle, firm. The way you wished the walk back would last longer.

It wasn’t new. But it felt new.

You wanted to say something. Maybe ask if he’d always been this warm. This easy to lean on.

Instead, you whispered, “Will you still give me piggybacks when you have a girlfriend?”

It came out before you could stop it.

He slowed a little. “Huh?”

You immediately backtracked. “Forget I said that. I’m being weird.”

There was a pause. Then:

“Pipsqueak,” he said, voice softer than it had any right to be, “I’m not going anywhere.”

He didn’t make it a joke.

And you didn’t laugh.

You just held on tighter, heart knocking a little too loudly against your ribs.

Because maybe—for the first time—you let yourself believe him.

And that tiny voice inside you, the one you’d ignored for years, whispered something new:

He’s always been there.

But maybe you’re starting to see him.

Stage three: The need to express

The attic smells like dust and summer and forgotten stories. You wrinkle your nose and push open the crooked window to let the light in, the breeze stirring motes into lazy spirals. Caleb’s behind you somewhere, muttering about the lack of proper ventilation like the grown-up he pretends to be.

“You sure this isn’t a health hazard?” he calls, lifting a heavy box with one hand and wiping his forehead with the other.

“Quit complaining, you said you wanted to help,” you reply, shoving aside a pile of old notebooks. “I just need to find that album. The one with all the polaroids.”

“You mean the one where you gave me devil horns in every photo?”

“They were accurate portrayals.”

He laughs—loud and honest, and it fills the room in a way that makes your chest ache, though you can’t explain why.

You were distracted, half-kneeling on a rickety step-stool, sifting through a box labeled Childhood Trash, when you hear it.

“Oh?” Caleb’s voice, playful. “What’s this?”

You turn your head, and he’s holding a thin red notebook with your name doodled all over the cover. It’s not the album.

It’s your old account book.

Your heart drops.

“Oh my god—give me that—” You nearly fall off the stool trying to snatch it, but Caleb dances out of reach, flipping it open with an evil grin.

“May 14th: Caleb said he’d save the last candy but he ate it. Betrayal. 3 points deducted from friendship score.” He snorts. “You had a point system?”

“Stop reading it!”

“June 2nd: Caleb forgot my birthday until noon. Very upsetting. Only made up for it with strawberry pocky. 6 points lost, 4 recovered. Net friendship score: shaky.” He’s laughing now, eyes crinkling.

You lunge for him.

The stool wobbles.

Stupid.

You yelp—too late—and pitch forward. A sudden arm catches you mid-air, and the two of you crash backward, tangled and breathless, landing squarely on the sagging attic couch behind him.

For a second, there’s only stillness. The dust floats around you like suspended time.

You’re sprawled half on top of him, one knee pressing into the cushion, your hand fisted into the front of his shirt. His arm’s around your waist, steady and secure. He hasn’t let go.

And you… haven’t moved either.

Because suddenly you’re noticing everything.

The way his chest rises beneath your hand. The way his voice dips low when he says your name, barely above a whisper. “Hey. You okay?”

You nod, but your voice doesn’t come. Because your gaze is stuck—on his hand, where it holds your waist. That faint, silvery scar on his wrist.

The one from when he climbed the fence for you in seventh grade to rescue your dumb sketchbook. You’d forgotten about it. But it’s there. Always has been.

Your eyes flick up. To his lips.

He’s not smiling now. Not teasing.

Just watching you.

Like you’re something fragile.

You feel his thumb brush your cheek—so softly, you could almost pretend it didn’t happen. But it did. A slow stroke, calloused finger grazing your skin like he’s memorizing it.

“Caleb…” you whisper, and you’re not sure if it’s a warning or a question.

But he doesn’t pull away. Doesn’t move.

His hand lingers at your jaw, fingertips gentle. And his gaze…

It lingers.

Not just on your face. But on you. Like you’re not the same girl he’s known all his life. Like he’s seeing you for the first time.

You swallow.

Because you’re seeing him, too.

The soft yearning in his eyes. The weight behind it. The way he always offers you the last bite. The way he listens—not just hears. The way his presence fills a room without ever demanding it.

Your face is so close to his now. Just one breath away.

You lean forward.

Just a little.

Then freeze.

Because this isn’t nothing. This isn’t teasing. This is—

Caleb’s hand shifts, slides to cup your jaw. His thumb grazes the corner of your mouth, like he’s already read your thoughts.

And he murmurs, quiet and dangerous:

“I still owe you six points, don’t I?”

You exhale, trembling, torn between laughter and something deeper.

And suddenly, you realize—

You don’t want the points.

You want him.

Stage four: The Leap of Faith

It took ages to admit it—not just out loud, but to yourself. That maybe your childhood friend wasn’t just a friend.

You used to think feelings like this came in lightning strikes. One moment of clarity. One spark of sudden, overwhelming love. But this… this has been quieter. Slower. A steady ache, like light seeping in through the cracks. Like warmth you only noticed when it was gone.

And now you were older. A licensed Deepspace Hunter under the elite UNICORNS unit. Trained. Hardened. Supposedly brave. You fought shadows and monsters, crossed danger zones without flinching. So what was one confession?

If he was home today, you decided, you’d tell him. Just tell him. If he wasn’t—well, maybe it was the universe’s way of telling you to keep pretending.

The sun hung low when you stepped off the transport, casting soft amber light across the familiar neighborhood. There was the old tree you used to climb. The mailbox Caleb once painted purple because you dared him. Everything looked just the same.

Except you. You weren’t the girl who bit his hand when he stole your last candy. You weren’t the girl who cried when he left for his first mission without you.

You were someone who could say it now.

Maybe.

The door creaked as you stepped inside the house. The smell of roast pork greeted you first—warm, rich, nostalgic. And then—

“Grandma, I’m home,” you called out.

The old woman looked up from her place on the couch, her eyes lighting up. “Ah, sweetie,” she said, delighted. “You haven’t been visiting since you joined the Hunters. Did you miss me?”

A soft laugh escaped your lips as you walked toward her. “Of course I did. Is that roast pork? I’ve been learning how to cook. Want to be my taste tester?”.

She sniffed the air with dramatic flair. “What happened to the girl who couldn’t even boil water? I should’ve sent you into the battlefield sooner.”

Her words made you smile—but it wasn’t them that made your heart jolt.

It was his voice, coming from the kitchen.

“She still can’t boil water,” Caleb said, stepping out with a tray in his hands. “But hey, she tries.”

Your breath caught.

He wore a black jacket over a soft white tee, sleeves pushed up. His hair was a little tousled, like he’d run his hands through it too many times. And he looked just the same. Exactly like the day you last saw him. Too much like home.

“I thought you weren’t coming until tomorrow,” you said, unable to hide your awe.

He raised a brow. “What’s wrong with coming home early to spend time with you and Gran?”

Then, casually, like it didn’t shake your entire chest, he reached out and ruffled your hair. “Go wash your hands. Let’s eat.”

The three of you sat together as the old TV played something soft in the background. The warmth of the food, the low hum of conversation—it felt like a piece of your past was stitched back into place.

You glanced at Grandma. “How’s your health? Still getting headaches?”

She waved you off gently. “It’s normal for people my age. As long as I take my medication, I’ll be fine.”

“But didn’t the doctor suggest observation in the hospital?” you frowned.

Grandma gave Caleb a pleading look. He stepped in smoothly.

“Already on it,” he said, placing his chopsticks down. “I submitted an application for long-term care. It’s a nice, quiet ward. Just her style.”

You blinked at him. “Wait. When did you do all that?”

“Caleb’s always been decisive,” Grandma chimed in before he could answer. “If I need to be in the hospital, visit me, alright? Oh, and talk to Zayne too. Maybe have lunch with him.”

You almost choked.

She was still trying to set you up—with Zayne of all people. While you were preparing to confess to Caleb.

“Even the world’s busiest guy has to eat. I haven't seen him in a looong time. We should invite him over for a dinner, right?”, Caleb added smoothly, looking straight at you with that unreadable smile.

You tried to recover, chuckling nervously. “Yeah. And we can kidnap him if he refuses.”

Caleb smirked, Grandma laughed, and for a brief second, things felt light again.

Then your watch beeped—sharp, sudden.

A crimson glow.

Wanderer alert.

You stood quickly. “I’m going to check it out. Just a quick patrol.”

“You sure?” Caleb asked, eyes narrowing.

“Yeah. I won’t be long.”

You stepped outside, adjusting your gear, boots thudding softly against the pavement. The afternoon light was golden, casting long shadows on the sidewalk. But the warmth didn’t reach your chest this time.

“Hey! Wait up!”

You didn’t even turn around. “Caleb.”

He fell into step beside you.

“What kind of hunter lets their childhood friend tag along to work with them?” you said, exasperated.

“I’m not tagging along,” he said, voice perfectly straight. “I’m going to the store. To buy vinegar.”

You blinked at him. Then pointed at the store right across the street.

He rolled his eyes. “Okay, maybe two things.”

You huffed, half-laughing, half-defeated, and nudged him toward the store.

You continued down the street, scanning the neighborhood with practiced ease. There was no unusual energy. No ripple in the atmosphere. No Wanderer lurking in the shadows.

Everything was calm.

Too calm.

And maybe that was why, when you turned to look for Caleb again, your chest pulled tight. Because the quiet gave your mind space to wander. And in that silence, your heart drifted—

Back to the attic.

Back to the moment when everything nearly changed.

Back to the almost-confession.

And everything you couldn’t say.

Caleb’s voice breaks the stillness, teasing but gentle. “I still owe you six points, don’t I?”

The words hang between you both like a delicate thread, something playful, but it doesn’t land like it usually does. No, not this time.

You exhale, your breath uneven, as you fight the mix of emotions swirling inside you. There's a lightness to it, yes—like laughter that never fully escapes—but something deeper lingers just beneath the surface. It wraps around you like the warm summer air, suffocating yet comforting at the same time.

You want to laugh, to push away the growing tension, but it’s impossible. Not when his eyes are on you like that, so soft, so sure.

You don’t look away from him, and you feel it, the weight of his gaze on you, pulling you closer, not physically, but in a way that has your heart racing and your pulse quickening. You want to move, to break the distance, but your body’s betraying you, your feet rooted to the spot, as if the universe itself is pausing for what comes next.

He notices, of course. He always does.

“Are you… okay?” His voice is quieter now, something like concern threading through it. His hand moves ever so slightly, the warmth of his fingers brushing against your arm. The touch makes you shiver, a slight tremble running through you. It’s not cold—no, it’s warmth, and yet it freezes you in place.

You lean closer without thinking. The air between you crackles with that unspoken promise. You barely register it, but your fingers curl into the fabric of his sleeve, a tight, anxious grip.

And suddenly, it’s too much. The tension is thick, so thick you could cut it with a knife. Every inch of your body is on edge, every nerve alight with the anticipation of something you can't put into words. Something you’re afraid to touch, even though you know it’s there, right beneath the surface.

For a split second, you both stay still, neither of you daring to move. You don’t even blink. Your lips part slightly, but no words come out.

And then, just when you think you might close the gap, just when you think you might finally be brave enough to bridge that space between you… he pulls you into his arms, holding you close.

His embrace isn’t hurried or desperate, but it’s enough to make your heart skip, to make every part of you ache with what could’ve been.

“It’s okay,” he murmurs against your hair, his voice warm, but with an edge of something softer, something that makes your chest tighten even more. “I didn’t mean to rush you.”

You stay in his arms for a moment longer than you expect, your breath slowing, his steady heartbeat against yours grounding you, and for a moment, the world feels smaller, just the two of you, wrapped in this suspended reality.

But even as his hands find their way to your back, even as he pats you gently, you can feel it. The unspoken words. The almost-what-could-have-been.

His words linger, not pushing, not demanding. “Take your time,” he says, his voice the same soft, sure thing it’s always been. “I’ll always be here. Whenever you’re ready, you can come back to me.”

It’s like a promise. It feels like a soft thread tethering you to him, pulling you back to reality just when you’re teetering on the edge of something you’re not quite ready for.

But you know he’s right. You’re not ready. Not yet. But you might be someday.

The street is quiet in the afternoon sun, the world still turning even when your heart hasn't caught up.

“Found your big bad Wanderers?” Caleb’s voice cuts into your reverie, gentle but teasing, like always.

You blink, startled—had you really zoned out that long? “False alarm,” you murmur, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “I’ll report it to the agency later on.”

But his eyes don’t leave you.

They dip lower, scanning over your arm—over the place where the skin is faintly grazed from your last mission, the one where the man with protocore syndrome scratched you. The makeshift wrap isn’t hiding much, and you can see the moment his expression changes. Jaw tensing. Eyes darkening.

“That’s not from today,” he says quietly, and then—flatly, “Who hurt you?”.

”Uh... This, I was petting a cat and...“, You hesitate, avoiding his eyes.

Caleb doesn’t laugh. He just stares at you.

“A straycat, huh,” he mutters, crossing his arms. “Guess I’ll go find that cat and teach it a lesson.”

You sigh. “I’m telling the truth.”

“No, you’re not,” he replies softly.

The silence that follows is heavier than you wanted to admit.

You look down at your wrist, fiddling with the edge of the cuff, avoiding his gaze. “We already have enough on our plate, Caleb. There’s no need to stress you and gran about this.“

He nods slowly, but you can see something flickering in his eyes. Not anger, exactly—just something tired. Something… hurt.

“I understand why you’d hide it from her,” he says, voice low. “She’s old. She’d get anxious.”

Then his gaze flicks back up to you. There’s a faint crease between his brows, and his voice breaks just a little.

“But why hide it from me?”

Your breath catches.

He lets out a soft laugh, like it doesn’t matter—but you both know it does. “Isn’t it better to trust me now that…” He doesn’t finish the sentence. Just sighs and offers you a sad smile. “Never mind.”

He gestures toward the house. “If you’re going to come back home, maybe hide that better, yeah?”.

And just like that, he turns, walking ahead, the door creaking open as he steps inside.

You stare after him, your heart aching with the weight of unsaid things. He thinks you don’t care anymore. He thinks maybe you’ve outgrown him. But he doesn’t know. He doesn’t know you were going to tell him tonight. About everything. About how nothing’s changed. About how everything has.

You look down at your wrist, pull your sleeve lower, and follow. You take a breath. One step forward—

And then everything erupts.

A deafening roar, a blast of heat. The ground lurches under your feet, flinging you backward like a rag doll. Your ears ring instantly, a high-pitched whine swallowing the world.

You don’t even realize you’ve hit the ground until you taste blood.

Smoke. Heat. Light. Everything’s on fire—your thoughts, your skin, the sky itself. The house is a glowing furnace, collapsing inwards, wood splintering and walls caving in.

You push yourself up—arm trembling, ribs burning—just enough to see shapes in the smoke, all flickering gold and black. The air is too thick to breathe.

Then something glints near you, half-buried in the rubble.

A broken chain.

His necklace.

You reach for it, fingers scraped and bleeding. It’s the only thing you can hold onto.

Pain pulses behind your eyes. You try to stay awake—just a moment longer—but the world is tilting, too loud, too hot.

Your hand curls around the metal—

And then, nothing.

Darkness claims you before you hit the ground again.

[sihtricfedaraaahvicius]

Broken Hearted Lovers

note: a requested fic by @scorpioada, thank you so much for the request! I really enjoyed writing this one and I hope it's what you had in mind. This fic turned out way longer than I expected, oops. I did proof read, but there could be some mistakes left, sorry!

warnings: 18+. angst/fluff/suggestive. mention of alcohol, heartbreak and being cheated on, but know that this fic is actually rather light and fluffy!

pairing: modern!Sihtric x fem!reader (no use of Y/N)

summary: After your ex kicked you out of his house, you are forced to move in with your brother, Uhtred. And while you were dealing with your broken heart, you couldn't ignore the feelings that resurfaced upon seeing Sihtric, because he had secretly been your life long crush.

word count: 9,4k

Masterlist

Reblogs & comments are immensely appreciated.

Being Uhtred's sister wasn't always easy. You were only a few years younger than him, but he was as protective as an older brother could be. In the streets, the other kids used to stay clear of him, while in school most kids wanted to join him and his friend group. Uhtred and his friends were named 'the pretty boys', because surely they were all good looking, even as youngsters. And there was one friend of your brother in particular who you always had a crush on, for as long as you could remember, and that was Sihtric.

You and Uhtred were close, so you often hung out with him while his friends were around too. You would do your own thing usually, like playing with dolls or dressing up. But sometimes the guys would help you build a fort out of blankets and furniture, and other times you joined them to play a couple of video games. However, playing games with Finan, Osferth and Sihtric was always short lived, as none of the boys ever showed mercy on you. So after a couple of losses you'd always storm off in tears, only to feel even more embarrassed when Uhtred made his friends apologize to you for making you cry.

But despite all of that, they were Uhtred's friends and you were just the younger sister, so Uhtred's fellow pretty boys knew you would always be more or less off limits to them, and they never had an issue with that as they grew up. They kept their respectable distance as you all got to the age of dating and clubbing, but they weren't shy to chase away anyone who could end up hurting you, or was simply bothering you on nights out. Which also meant that for most of your life every guy you were somewhat interested in was afraid to get near you, as they knew they'd have to get past Uhtred and the pretty boys first. You always hoped that once you had passed your teens you would be able to escape your brother's protective nature, but the dating problem remained as everyone in town knew far too well who your brother was.

You never stopped crushing on Sihtric though, but as you both matured over the years you had also been the unfortunate witness to his dating life. It was always a painful jab in the face to see him with someone. Until one day you woke up and just felt it was time to get over those silly feelings for him, because you knew Sihtric would only ever see you as Uhtred's younger sister.

After some time you ended up with a decent job and you shared an apartment with some friends in a different town, free of Uhtred's protection, and you finally participated in the dating scene. A handful of guys were boyfriend potential over the years, but every time you brought someone over to meet Uhtred, your brother would make sure to show his disapproval and chase them away. And so your dating life was still disastrous because of that, but you also couldn't pretend that you didn't still feel butterflies whenever you saw Sihtric. 

You only saw him a few times a year, when Uhtred threw a party or when you'd come over to surprise visit your brother during a weekend off. You saw Sihtric with all kinds of haircuts over the years, and each cut had made him look as good as ever. You hated how you couldn't get over him. But once you heard he had gotten married, you told yourself to stop being so stupid and delusional. 

You threw yourself in the dating scene again and ended up with a guy named Eardwulf. You and him worked out, for a while, since you never mentioned him to Uhtred. Until it was too late…

'What do you mean you have a boyfriend?!' Uhtred half yelled, his face pale as he tried to accept the fact his younger sister had been secretly dating.

'Had a boyfriend,' you sniffled.

Only a few days ago you found out that Eardwulf, your secret boyfriend of almost two years, had cheated on you multiple times throughout your supposedly committed relationship. You felt so betrayed and disgusted by him that you couldn't stand being around him anymore. And on that note he had kicked you out of his house, leaving you with no place to go. You had packed your belongings and left to the one person who would have warned you about him if he had known; your brother. Uhtred was furious at first and demanded you to tell him your ex's address, but you told him to forget it because it was all over anyway.

'But why on earth did you move in with this Earthworm guy without talking to me?!' Uhtred asked, angry and confused.

He still felt unwell knowing you had lived with a man, and therefore probably also had slept with a man. He shivered visibly at the thought.

'Because that was my freedom!' you threw your hands up. 'I finally found a guy who liked me, at least I thought, and after a year of dating I moved in with him. It meant that I sort of had a place of my own. No more sharing the kitchen and shower with housemates. I finally had privacy and someone who I believed I could build a future with,' you said with a sob, 'but I was so wrong… and now I have nowhere to go.'

Uhtred had sighed and, once the colour on his face had somewhat returned, he told you to not worry about a place to stay. You could move in with him for a while, until you'd find an affordable and decent place to live at again. And so you moved in with Uhtred that very same day. 

His spare bedroom wasn't very big, but it would do for the time being. You cheered the room up a little by unpacking some of your decor. You placed several candles on the dusty shelves and hung a few picture frames on the empty walls. Uhtred told you he'd be out for a moment to get some groceries, and he informed you that he had a friend coming over later, but that they wouldn't keep you up late and they'd be quiet. You shrugged at that and took a refreshing shower, after which you treated yourself to a thorough skin care routine in absolute silence, with only some music blasting in your ears through your earpods. And after you had rinsed your face, you decided to go and pour yourself a well needed drink in the kitchen, knowing your brother always had more than enough liquor at home.

But instead of that well needed drink, you got the scare of a lifetime when you walked out of the still hot and steaming bathroom. While wearing fluffy pink booty shorts with a matching bra, you found a homeless looking man standing in the kitchen with his back turned to you, and your heart skipped numerous beats upon spotting the intruder.

'Jesus fucking Christ!' you screamed and almost fell on your ass, your earpods falling out of your ears at the sudden jump backwards.

'What the fuck!' the man also slightly jumped, and knocked over the shot glass he had just filled up.

He managed to save the bottle from clattering onto the wooden floor, and he quickly turned to look at who on earth had almost ended his life early. You stared back at him; his shoulder length hair was dark and clearly uncombed, but his facial hair was rather well kept. His white shirt had some holes in it, his black sweatpants had clear tomato sauce stains on them, and to top it off you saw one of his toes sticking out of a hole in his grey socks.

'Who the fuck are you!?' you shrieked, your back pressed against the bathroom door.

'Me?!' the man yelled, leaning back against the kitchen counter, 'who the hell are you?! Where's Uhtred? He didn't warn me that he had one of his fuck buddies over-'

'Fuck buddies?!' you shouted over him, with a face of disgust, 'Uhtred has fuck buddies?!'

'Of course he does!' the man snarled as he looked you up and down, 'and they all look… you know,' he gestured at your outfit, 'they dress like you!'

'Like me?!'

You gagged at the words while the spooked man in the kitchen kept his distance, waiting for you to reveal who you were while he was also ready to grab a knife from the kitchen island that separated you. He would chase you away, if he had to. You stared at him as you took a cautious step closer, seeing his eyes were wide and… 

his eyes.

Your mouth went dry and you felt your cheeks heat up at the sight of his eyes, one bright and one dark. And only then you noticed the familiar scars on his face, half hidden behind thick strands of messy hair. You became light headed with your knees weakened when you realised who you had just walked into.

'S-Sihtric?' you stammered, 'is that… you?'

'Maybe,' Sihtric half growled, his eyes darting between you and the knife on the counter, 'depends who's asking.'

He remained in a cautious state, wetting his lips with his tongue while his eyes were still wide and darting between you and the knife. You followed his eyes and then took a step back again, remembering that Sihtric was pretty good with weapons as a kid already, always carrying a pocket knife back then. And you were utterly convinced that it was Sihtric who was in front of you. He had changed, absolutely. He was a man now, but you would recognise those eyes anywhere.

'Sihtric!' you yelled, 'it's me, you fool!'

Sihtric looked at you and squinted his eyes, as if he couldn't see clearly, but then suddenly his eyes widened again as his jaw dropped, and he gasped with both shock and relief when he finally recognised you.

'What,' Sihtric said, 'when… when the hell did you grow up looking like that?!'

'Looking like what?' you made a face, 'what is that supposed to mean?!'

'You… you were… you are Uhtred's little sister!' Sihtric scoffed, 'you… you know,' he panicked and tried to look anywhere but at you, 'you're not supposed to look like… like-'

'Like what!?'

'Like one of Uhtred's girls!' Sihtric yelled and threw his hands up, then covered his eyes for a moment, 'gods, why are you barely dressed?!'

'Excuse me?' you hissed and rolled your eyes, 'Jesus fucking Christ, Sihtric,' you sighed and walked over to grab the bottle of liquor next to him, purposely bumping into his shoulder as you did, 'you've never seen a woman in lounge wear before?!'

Sihtric stammered something inaudible as he watched you grab another shot glass from the cupboard. You poured yourself a drink and downed the liquor in one go, and you made a face as the burning sensation went down your throat, while Sihtric was still gaping at you.

'How on earth did you get in here?' you asked, your voice raspy because of the strong alcohol.

'I… I have a key.'

'Why the hell do you have a key to Uhtred's place?'

'Because,' Sihtric began with confidence, but then stopped talking and mumbled inaudibly again as he went to clean up his spilled drink.

'What did you say?' you gave him a curious look.

'I've been spending a lot of time here,' Sihtric finally said as he poured himself a new shot, 'Uhtred gave me a key so I can let myself in when he's not home yet.'

'What? You mean like… you live here?'

'No,' Sihtric said. He downed the alcohol quickly and made the same face as you had done, and then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. 'I don't live here, but I come here when I'm having a rough day. Uhtred knows I was coming over today.'

'Rough day?' you snorted, 'yeah, looks like you've been having a lot of rough days, huh?'

Sihtric frowned, and you pointed at his clothes.

'Fuck,' he muttered as he looked down at himself, 'I'm… I'm sorry for this. If I knew someone would be here I'd have showered.'

'Just showered?' you raised an eyebrow.

'... And washed my clothes,' Sihtric added with clear embarrassment.

You stared at each other for a few long seconds. You were still in shock that your life long crush was suddenly right in front of you again. Sure, he looked a little rough, but every feeling you have ever had for him came right back up, and they hit you like a smack in the face. You couldn't even think straight whenever he gazed back at you. He was clearly shy and embarrassed by the way he looked, and he tried so hard to keep his eyes off you. You were Uhtred's sister, he knew he shouldn't be looking at you the way he did. But he couldn't help himself, because you looked like a dream to him, and he had never seen you like this before.

'What,' Sihtric said, but his voice faltered and he needed to clear his throat, 'what are you doing here… looking like that?'

'I found out my boyfriend-'

'You have a boyfriend?' Sihtric frowned, 'Uhtred never told us anything about that.'

 'Had a boyfriend,' you sighed, 'he cheated on me and kicked me out of his house.'

'Wait, you live with a guy?' he chuckled, 'does Uhtred know that?'

'I don't live with him anymore,' you rolled your eyes and walked around the kitchen island. 'And yeah, Uhtred knows now. That's why I'm here, I have no place to go. I'm staying here for a little while, until I get back on my feet.'

'Fuck,' Sihtric mumbled and joined you at the island, leaning on the marble surface across from you, 'I'm sorry to hear that.'

'Yeah,' you shrugged, 'it is what it is. But I still don't understand why you have a key to this place.'

'I recently got divorced,' Sihtric confessed, 'my ex-wife cheated on me, so I know how you feel there.'

'Jesus, Sihtric… I'm so sorry.'

Sihtric shrugged and forced a faint smile, then filled the two shot glasses up once more and pushed one your way.

'Here's to shitty exes,' he said with a pained smile, 'and to us, may we finally find our soulmate and receive the love we deserve.'

You clinked the shot glasses together before you each downed the drink. You then both made an unpleasant face again, and you couldn't help but laugh at each other and at how bizarre the situation was. But the laughter soon died down, after which you and Sihtric carefully gazed at each other again as you both leaned on opposite sides of the island.

'You look good,' Sihtric said softly, 'despite everything going on in your life, you know? I wouldn't know you're going through it if you hadn't told me.'

'Thank you,' you smiled shyly, 'you look…'

Sihtric furrowed his brow as he waited for your answer, suppressing a smile while he tried to look offended.

'I don't look good,' he chuckled, 'I know.'

'No,' you said quickly, 'you… you do look good, actually. It's just your clothes,' you laughed.

'Well,' Sihtric cleared his throat, 'I believe that as a recently divorced man, I have earned the right to wear the same clothes for weeks on end.'

'That's disgusting,' you laughed, 'but you do have the right to be dressed in pizza stained sweatpants, sure.'

'Well, we can't all be dressed in booty shorts and little pink bras,' Sihtric taunted.

'You should try it,' you grinned, 'I bet you'd look sexy.'

'Maybe. But nowhere nearly as sexy as you look,' Sihtric said with a wink.

He then laughed again at how stupid he had sounded, while you were clearly blushing at his words.

'You're saying my little sister is what now, Sihtric?' Uhtred suddenly asked.

You and Sihtric both jumped at the sound of Uhtred's voice, and you made haste to grab a random towel off the kitchen counter to cover yourself a little up for your brother.

'That's… you heard that out of context,' Sihtric said quickly, 'I swear I didn't… I wasn't hitting on your sister.'

'He wasn't!' you agreed, knowing how Uhtred could be, 'it was my fault. I didn't know someone was here when I came out of the bathroom. I… I should've dressed up decently.'

'You should,' Uhtred said sternly, 'and you will, now! And you,' he looked at Sihtric, 'you will not be looking at my sister!'

'I will not,' Sihtric said, his eyes fixated on his own worn out socks.

You ran past Uhtred and to your room, where you slammed the door shut before you jumped in bed and hid under the covers. Your whole body felt as if it was on fire. Your heart was beating out of your chest and your cheeks were burning so brightly, you couldn't possibly show yourself again. You buried your face in your pillow, fighting all the feelings that had resurfaced so easily upon seeing Sihtric again. But you were also fighting the smile on your flushed face, due to the fact that he had clearly been checking you out. Sihtric might be recently divorced and a bit of a mess right now, but you were more than sure that he was somewhat flirting while you had shared that drink together. 

But still, you felt awkward and hungry, and you needed something to eat. But instead of joining your brother and his friend in the kitchen for dinner a little later, you only snuck out while they were gaming on the couch, and you grabbed a plate of food with you to eat alone in your bedroom, not knowing Sihtric had glanced over his shoulder to get one last look at you that night.

A few days had passed when Sihtric came over again, and this time you were both decently dressed upon greeting each other. Uhtred had informed you of Sihtric's arrival beforehand, so you had put on an oversized shirt to cover yourself. And Sihtric in turn had made the effort to wear some clean clothes and to tie his long hair back in a bun. Only then you noticed he had an undercut, which was freshly shaved by the looks of it, as you could clearly see the tattoo that ran from his neck up to the side of his head and into his hair. And even Uhtred noticed how his friend looked cleaned up again for once, after a few long weeks of not being able to really take care of himself, and your brother couldn't help pointing it out as you all ate dinner together.

'Yeah,' Sihtric said quietly, 'I figured a part of healing is looking after myself too.'

'That's a good start,' you smiled at him.

And Sihtric smiled softly at you in return. But your smiles lasted a little too long for Uhtred's liking, so he cleared his throat loudly to break the ongoing eye contact you and Sihtric had.

'Oh, Uhtred,' you changed the topic, feeling your cheeks were heating up, so you turned the attention to your brother, 'how many fuck buddies do you have?'

Sihtric choked on his drink while Uhtred dropped his fork in pure horror, and both men stared at you with big eyes. Sihtric hid a grin behind his hand, trying his hardest to not laugh as he coughed, while Uhtred blinked rapidly as he processed your unexpected question.

'I beg your pardon?' Uhtred managed to ask.

'Yeah, I heard about your girls,' you said, subtly ratting out Sihtric, who gave you a light kick under the table. 'And I just want to make sure I won't ever walk in here on something,' you said.

'You won't ever walk in on something!' Uhtred snarled and glanced at Sihtric for a split second when his friend snorted, and he then looked back at you, 'and the same goes for you, young lady! I don't ever want you to bring a guy here, is that clear? I don't ever want to walk in on something either!'

'Fine,' you shrugged and got up from the table.

You returned to your bedroom, giving the guys their usual time to play some video games in the evening. But you didn't leave the room before flashing Sihtric a grin, knowing that Uhtred would definitely have a word with Sihtric about running his mouth to you about his private life.

As the weeks continued, you slowly picked yourself up again and every day you felt a little better. But that didn't mean that you weren't hurting anymore. Because you still had your emotional and low energy days, on which your break up just hurted a little more. But you couldn't deny the fact that seeing Sihtric a few times a week, even if it was only briefly during dinner sometimes, definitely made you feel better and made it easier to forget about your shitty ex. But when you did have an off day, it seemed that nothing and no one could cheer you up. At least, not until Sihtric had tried it.

'She's not eating with us today?' Sihtric asked when your seat at the dinner table remained empty one evening.

'No,' Uhtred sighed sadly, 'she's been in her room all day again, crying. I just don't know what to do. Everytime she seems to be going good for a few days, she has one bad day like this, and then all she does is cry and hide. She refuses to eat too, I don't get it.'

'Heartbreak messes with your appetite,' Sihtric said, clearly speaking of experience, 'have you talked to her today?'

'Not really, she won't let me in her room,' Uhtred threw his hands up, 'so I gave up, you know?'

'Do you think I can talk to her?'

'You?' Uhtred scoffed lightly, 'she doesn't want to talk to me, why would she want to talk to you?'

'Uhtred,' Sihtric sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, 'me and her, we've both been cheated on. And, no offense, but you don't know what that feels like. You don't understand what that does to someone because, and again no offense, you've been the cheater ever so often in your relationships.'

Uhtred looked at his friend, stunned and mildly hurt even. He knew he hadn't been a loyal boyfriend, but he never even considered that he had been hurting women the same way his little sister had been hurt by someone, and he felt a pang. He wanted to help you, but he knew that Sihtric was right, because he could never understand the pain you felt which was identical to the pain that he himself had caused so many others before.

'Let me talk to her,' Sihtric pushed politely, 'let me at least try.'

'Fine,' Uhtred shrugged, trying to hide his inner conflict, 'go ahead. But if she throws something at you, then that's your own fault.'

'I'll take the risk,' Sihtric chuckled softly and got up from the table.

You had been hiding away almost all day already, only leaving your room for a brief moment to get yourself a drink and a sandwich when Uhtred was taking a shower earlier that day. You couldn't talk to your brother, he would never understand how you felt, and you didn't have the heart to call him a cheater in his face, no matter how much you wanted to. You were angry today, angry at everyone and everything, when suddenly a soft knock on your door interrupted your sniffling.

'Leave me alone,' you said weakly.

'It's Sihtric,' his voice sounded muffled through your door, 'are you okay?' 

Your heart stopped for a moment after hearing his voice, and you quickly wiped your tears with the blanket you had been hiding under all day.

'I'm fine,' you lied after a few long seconds.

'Are you?' Sihtric asked and cautiously opened your door.

He waited for a few seconds, then stepped in your darkened room when you didn't yell or throw anything at him, and you even allowed him to switch on a light.

'I'm fine,' you said again and hid your face.

'No you're not,' he said and closed the door behind him, 'but that's okay.'

Sihtric sat down next to you on your bed, at a comfortable distance as he allowed you to decide for yourself if you wanted to talk or not. And you desperately needed to talk, but you didn't want to constantly bother your own friends. Uhtred was the only one always around, but he had no idea how to handle your emotional breakdowns over some guy he had never even met; some guy he wanted to strangle with his bare hands. Uhtred would get angry whenever he saw you cry. Not angry at you, but angry at the man who had hurt you. And that always made him realise he was one of those kinds of men too, and it had gnawed at him. And it still gnawed on him, so much even that when he saw how you allowed Sihtric to come into your room, he had shoved his plate aside on the dinner table and left the apartment, as he needed to go for a walk and clear his head.

'I'm just so embarrassed,' you sniffled quietly, 'why do I cry over some stupid guy who cheated on me?'

'Because you loved him,' Sihtric said, compassionately, 'I get it, because I've been there. And sometimes I'm still in that place too. You wouldn't believe how many nights I still cry in bed.'

'You do?' you finally looked at him, 'how long has it been?'

'I do,' Sihtric sighed softly, 'it's been a few months since we separated. The divorce still needs to be finalised, but we're getting close.'

'I'm so sorry,' you whispered and started to cry again.

'Don't be,' Sihtric whispered and instinctively wrapped his arms around you, 'and don't feel embarrassed for crying either. I sure as hell am not ashamed that I still get upset sometimes. Because I know why I cry.'

'Why?' you asked, your face buried in his warm chest, 'because you miss your ex wife?'

'Oh, no,' Sihtric laughed softly, 'I don't miss her at all, and I definitely don't cry for her. I cry because I miss the life I had in a way. I miss the company mostly. I was used to coming home to someone. To have dinner with someone, to talk to someone and to fall asleep with someone. And I think that's the hardest part, missing that company. I feel lonely very often, and then I get stuck in my head. But I don't want my ex back, never,' he emphasized, 'and I'm pretty sure that you don't want your ex back either, do you?'

'Never!' you said and sat back, looking up at Sihtric as you wiped your tears again, 'I never want him back.'

'I know,' Sihtric smiled softly, 'because we both don't miss the people we were with, but we miss the company we had. And it's okay to miss that, you have to allow those feelings too. And that's what makes us different from them. Because we feel, and they clearly don't feel anything, why else would they hurt us like that? And I think it's important that we continue to feel, even if it hurts sometimes. Because we can't let them ruin the good in us, we can't let people like them ruin the fact we are able to love so deeply while they can't.'

'You are right,' you said after a moment, and you hugged him again, 'thank you.'

'Are you feeling a little better?'

'I am.'

'Good,' Sihtric smiled and got up from your bed, 'I think you should eat something. There's some dinner left in the oven, it should still be warm. I can bring it to you if you like?'

'No,' you got up too, 'I appreciate that, but I'll eat with you guys.'

'Well,' Sihtric chuckled after he had opened your door again and found the apartment empty, 'I think it's just me.'

'Did Uhtred leave again?' you rolled your eyes, 'he always does that.'

'I might have upset him,' Sihtric said, 'he struggled that you were feeling upset, and that he didn't know how to help you. So I told him that's because in relationships he has been a cheater. And he is clearly aware of that, but it's only now that he understands what effect that has on someone. And I think he didn't like hearing that.'

'It was about time he heard that,' you shrugged.

Sihtric agreed and went into the kitchen to get you a plate with some food. You joined him and quietly ate your dinner, while Sihtric was just scrolling on his phone for a while until Uhtred came back. Your brother was happy to see you had gotten out of your room and ate something, but he still didn't quite know how to behave around you. Sihtric felt the awkward tension and suggested playing some video games, as usual. Normally you declined spending time with them during their gaming, but you needed the distraction so you agreed to tag along for one evening. And you were glad you did, because you got to sit next to Sihtric and, as the evening progressed, you both became more relaxed and comfortable, resulting in your shoulders resting against each other while your eyes were fixated on the big tv screen in front of you. Uhtred was glad he didn't have to try and cheer you up, and as he was so focused on winning each round of Mario Kart, he didn't even notice that you and Sihtric sat a little too close for his liking, had he seen it.

But you enjoyed it, leaning into Sihtric while he leaned into you, feeling the warmth of his body and comfortable weight pressing against your side. It made you feel warm and safe, a little giddy even, and it was hard for you to focus on the game with him so close by your side. He smelled so nice too, it was comforting, and he radiated calmness and warmth to you. You wished that every day could be like that, but you also knew that Uhtred would never allow it if he'd find out.

You and Sihtric continued to bond and heal as time went on. All while Uhtred never once noticed the way you looked at Sihtric, or how he smiled at you, nor the way you and him sat shoulder to shoulder every time you joined the guys for a few rounds of playing video games. Uhtred was just glad that you and Sihtric both seemed to feel better, that he never even considered the reason you both were slowly becoming happy again was because of each other. And therefore Uhtred also wasn't even bothered when you and Sihtric got a drunk and danced together at the party your brother was throwing in his apartment.

You were a little more drunk than Sihtric was and, while the party was far from over, he decided to help you back to your room when you could barely stand on your legs anymore. You both stumbled into your bedroom, where Sihtric closed the door for some privacy before he walked you over to your bed. He tried to carefully lower you down onto the mattress, but the room was spinning for him too, so it didn't take long before you both fell in bed and had a laughing fit. And after the laughter died down and the loud music still sounded outside your closed door, you and Sihtric just laid there, shoulder to shoulder, staring up at the spinning ceiling while your thoughts wandered.

'You know,' you slurred after a moment, 'I think… you're really hot, Sihtric.'

'What?' he snorted.

'I said,' you dragged out your words, 'I think you're really hot.'

'Oh,' Sihtric chuckled, 'okay.'

'Okay?'

'I mean… thank you?'

'Do you think I'm hot?' you pouted and sat up.

Your eyes were heavy and your cheeks rosy as you stared down at the handsome man who lied next to you.

'Uhtred would behead me,' Sihtric laughed.

'Fuck Uhtred,' you hiccuped.

'I'd… I'd rather not,' he made a face of disgust.

'Huh?'

'What?'

'Do you think I'm hot?' you asked again.

'Of course,' Sihtric smiled and lightly trailed his fingers over your cheek, 'of course I do. But you,' he slightly panicked, 'y-you can't tell your brother.'

'My brother is stupid,' you sighed.

'He is sometimes.'

'Fuck me,' you blurted out.

'What?'

'You,' you giggled and took his hand, 'please?'

'I… I-... you mean, now?'

You laughed and leaned in, going for a kiss, but Sihtric stopped you and told you that you were both a little too drunk right now. You said you didn't care, and then suddenly blurted out how you've always had a crush on him and that you were done waiting around. You had wasted years of your life already, and you were done with that, you just wanted to be with him. Now.

'O-okay,' Sihtric blinked rapidly after your confession, 'well… then… okay.'

'Okay?'

'Yeah,' he shrugged, 'we… we can fuck, I guess.'

'Okay,' you smiled and went to take off your dress.

You got stuck in your dress and Sihtric had to help you out, but as he saw double too, it took him a moment to free you. You then laid back down on the bed, wearing just your lingerie. You pulled Sihtric on top of you, who almost fell over and crushed you in his drunk state, which you both laughed off while your hands roamed each other's warm bodies. You kissed his neck while you felt his hands run up your thighs, and you took off his shirt. You blushed even more as you took in the sight of his muscular body above you. Sihtric took your hands and kissed them, and he then told you to relax as he started to take off his belt. But he was more drunk than he had anticipated, because for minutes he fought with his belt and couldn't seem to unclasp it. And once he finally did and lowered his jeans, he looked down at you again, only to find out that you had fallen asleep. Sihtric laughed softly at that and got off you, then lied down next to you and pulled the sheets over you both, after which he fell asleep too.

You woke up late the next morning after the party, with a headache taunting you right away and you struggled to open your eyes for a moment. But once you opened your eyes properly, they surely stayed wide open, as you were shocked to find Sihtric sleeping next to you. And if him sleeping next to you wasn't enough of a shock, you found yourself in just your lingerie while Sihtric's jeans were unzipped and lowered to his knees. 

You tried to remember what had happened the night before, but everything was a blur. You didn't remember ending up in your room together with him, nor did you remember why you were both half undressed. The fact that you and him were still wearing your underwear told you that you most likely didn't have sex. But you weren't sure if you were relieved or disappointed at that.

You couldn't help but stare at Sihtric as he was next to you, peacefully asleep and so handsome, it was like a weird dream come true. But that dream could turn into a nightmare soon, as you suddenly heard Uhtred cough from the living room. You jumped out of bed, made haste to lock your bedroom door, and you then started to panic. There was no way Sihtric could leave your room unseen, and you both wouldn't live if Uhtred found out you had spent the night together. You yourself weren't even sure if anything had happened, so how were you going to convince your brother that nothing had happened?

You paced back and forth in your room, your head was still spinning and the headache was pounding behind your eyes. You then crawled back in bed and woke Sihtric, covering his mouth with your hand as soon as he woke so he couldn't betray his presence by talking.

'Uhtred is still home,' you whispered, 'you have to be quiet.'

Sihtric quickly understood where he was and the trouble that could come with it, so he stayed quiet and dealt with his own headache. You managed to sneak out of your room, leaving Sihtric behind in your bed. You greeted Uhtred and told him you were probably going to stay in bed all day to deal with the hangover, to which your brother laughed. You grabbed yourself a big cup of coffee and some breakfast that you could share with Sihtric, and once back in your room you locked the door again. 

You and Sihtric quietly discussed the night before, trying to figure out what had happened with the vague memories you both had, piecing them together to make more or less a whole story. You both came to the conclusion that you hadn't had sex, but neither of you were sure if you had kissed or not. 

'Undressing without even trying to kiss?' you whispered, 'did we do that?'

'I think you kissed my neck,' Sihtric whispered, 'do I have marks?'

You quickly checked his neck and found he did not have a mark, but you agreed that you probably had kissed his neck, as that sounded like something you would do. You did remember you called Sihtric hot, but you didn't want to bring that up as you felt embarrassed by how you had blurted that out. And Sihtric remembered that moment too, but he also didn't bring it up, because he remembered there was more to that story as well. He remembered your somewhat love confession too, but now was not the time to discuss that with your brother around in the same building.

'So, now what?' Sihtric whispered and put on his shirt, 'I stay here all day?'

'You'll have to sneak out when he goes to the bathroom or something,' you said, 'there is no other way. I'm sure he'll take a shower after he finishes his coffee.'

And you were right. Your brother dragged his feet past your bedroom door after an hour, going into the bathroom. And as soon as you heard the water run, you and Sihtric jumped up. Sihtric nearly tripped over his own feet as he tried to make haste to your door while putting on his black boots. He reached to unlock your door but then stopped, turned and looked at you.

'What are you doing?' you hissed, 'go!'

'Can I at least have your number?' Sihtric asked.

'Are you serious?' you scoffed, 'you… I mean, yes, you can have it, but you have to leave, now!'

'I will,' Sihtric calmed you, 'just give me your number.'

You quickly wrote your number on a sticky note and shoved it in his back pocket, you then unlocked the door and grabbed his hand, dragging him to the front door as quickly as you could.

'Text me,' you whispered as you pushed Sihtric out of the apartment.

'I will,' he smiled.

And for a moment it seemed as if everything went quiet, when you stared into each other's eyes and slowly leaned in closer. Sihtric pulled you close and cupped your cheek, going in for the kiss he had been longing for since you had scared him that first evening in the kitchen. You felt his warm breath on your skin, his lips grazing yours lightly before wanting to capture you in that long overdue kiss. But before he could do that, you gasped and gave him a light shove. Because it hadn't just seemed as if everything had gone quiet around you, it actually had gone quiet. The wat

er wasn't running anymore, and you had no idea how long it had been since Uhtred had gotten out of the shower once you noticed it.

'Go!' you hissed, 'and text me!'

And you then quietly slammed the door in Sihtric's face, who was still smiling regardless of the rushed goodbye.

After that morning the sneaking around started. 

It began subtly, since Sihtric used to come over a lot anyway. But there was now a tension between the two of you, after sending each other numerous flirty and risky texts since that party. Uhtred never paid attention to you and Sihtric sitting next to each other on the couch, and he never noticed the smirks and mischievous looks you exchanged either. And sometimes, while playing video games or watching a movie, you and Sihtric would share a blanket. And underneath that blanket it would always start with light touches and secretly holding hands, but every now and then you'd carefully move your hand up his thigh and he'd do the same to you. And Uhtred never noticed a thing.

Whenever Uhtred would leave the room, you and Sihtric would gaze at each other and even lean in, wanting to finally steal that first kiss from each other's lips, but Uhtred would reappear every time before you could get that far.

And it didn't take long before Sihtric would start to come over when Uhtred was still at work, just so he could see you and have a moment alone. But even then, every time you and Sihtric tried to kiss or have a moment, Uhtred would simply barge in the door. You had suggested meeting up at Sihtric's place, but you were then told that he didn't have his own place.

'I've been living with Finan since my divorce, darling,' Sihtric had whispered one evening, when Uhtred was using the bathroom, 'if I take you back there, Finan will figure it out since he works from home. And there's a risk that he will tell Uhtred.'

'So we'll just have to keep this up until one of us finally gets their own place,' you had sighed.

It seemed that you and Sihtric were just doomed, terrified to tell your brother and friends about how you liked each other and just wanted to openly date, but the odds were against you. At least, it felt like that until you finally received some good news. 

After a few long weeks of yearning and aching, risky texts and late night phone calls, you learned that Uhtred was going to work evening shifts for a few months to cover for someone at his workplace. That meant that his and Sihtric's schedule would no longer overlap, and that you might actually have some alone time with your secret crush. And Sihtric was more than keen to grab that chance too, so on the first day of Uhtred's new shift, he showed up at the apartment a few hours after your brother had left.

'How long do we have?'

'He works from four till midnight,' you smiled.

You suddenly felt nervous after closing the door behind you, watching Sihtric walk over to the couch to sit down at his somewhat regular spot. And he was clearly nervous too, fidgeting with the several rings around his tattooed fingers and trying to subtly bounce his leg. You poured him and yourself a drink and sat next to him, both being unsure of what to say now that you were finally alone after all this time. 

But words weren't needed, you found. Because as soon as you both placed your empty glass on the salon table, you reached for each other and finally crashed into that long overdue kiss. And it was everything that you hoped it would be. It was gentle yet firm, and it was filled with passion and lust. And as you drowned in each other's outpour of love, he pulled you on his lap to kiss you even deeper. You raked your fingers through his loose hair as you straddled him, and he slowly hooked his fingers under the straps of your white silk negligee. He slowly lowered the straps, his warm hands following in the wake of the soft silk sliding down your arms. But just before the smooth fabric could expose you, you grabbed onto the negligee and kept your breasts covered.

'I want to take things slow,' you whispered against his lips.

'We will,' Sihtric murmured as he smiled, then kissed you again.

He picked you up and laid you down on the couch, and he climbed on top of you so he could continue to kiss you as he held you captive in his arms, lovingly. You made out for hours, just kissing and gently roaming your hands over each other's bodies, and neither of you could get enough of feeling one another. And you continued to kiss throughout the evening, making out wherever you could; on the couch, on the floor and on your bed. It didn't matter where you kissed, as long as you were kissing each other. And you kissed until Sihtric had to go, some time safely before your brother would arrive home.

Those secret meet ups went on for weeks. Every time Uhtred left for work, Sihtric would meet you a few hours later. You'd usually have dinner together and then cuddle up on the couch, only to end up making out until Sihtric had to leave again. Some evenings were hot and steamy, when the urge to be intimate was almost unbearable, but you still resisted due to the knowledge that on paper Sihtric was still married.

And some evenings were just cosy and sweet, when you and Sihtric joked around and built forts out of blankets, just like you had done sometimes when you were still kids. And some evenings, when Uhtred had a day off or Sihtric had to work late himself, you would sneak out of the apartment to meet Sihtric outside the building, no matter how briefly it was.

Sihtric always made you feel special. He'd show you how much he adored you by bringing you your favourite snack, or by bringing you one single rose every other day. He told you he'd bring you a dozen roses if he could, but then you'd have to explain to Uhtred where you'd get the flowers from. You appreciated every gesture, and every moment spent with him was special on its own. But one night in particular was special, even more special than any other night. It was the one evening when Sihtric came over, after Uhtred had left, showing up with a bottle of champagne under his arm.

'The divorce has been finalized,' he smiled and kissed you, 'I already was yours, but now we'll never have to worry about anyone else ever again.'

You were over the moon hearing the news, because Sihtric was finally yours and yours only. And that also meant that you finally felt ready to take your relationship to the next stage, which you did. You wasted no time pulling Sihtric inside the apartment, and his leather jacket was already on the floor before he could kick the door shut behind him. He picked you up in his arms and kissed you deeply while he carried you to your bedroom as he kicked his shoes off. He pushed the door open with his back and threw you on your bed. And there you undressed each other as you kissed, not drunk this time, and you finally made love which felt even better than you could've imagined. You both lasted surprisingly long, despite the aching longing you both had endured for months, and you continued to kiss passionately while you both came down from your highs.

Sihtric wrapped one arm around you as you sat next to him on the couch, later that evening and fully dressed again, and he pulled you close.

'You make everything go silent,' he whispered and kissed your hair, 'you are my peace, darling.'

'And you are mine, love,' you smiled and kissed his jaw, while your fingers trailed lightly over his arm.

'How many kids do you want?' he suddenly asked.

'Huh?' you laughed for a moment, 'gosh, I'm not sure. At least two. Maybe three. Not anytime soon,' you chuckled, 'but in a few years, yeah. What about you?'

'I also don't want kids right now,' Sihtric smiled, 'but in some years time, yes.'

'How many?'

'Oh, I'll give you as many as you'll allow me to give,' he said with a sly smile, then leaned in to kiss you deeply again, 'maybe we should practice a little more?'

And before you knew it, you were making out on the couch again, like every other night. Except this time you both froze and stared at each other with big eyes when you suddenly heard the lock of the front door click and open. You and Sihtric both wanted to move away from each other and sit up, but it was already too late, because Uhtred stood in the door and looked at you with pure horror. But that horror soon changed into anger, and before you could even say something, your brother was already storming towards Sihtric. Uhtred grabbed Sihtric's shirt and pulled him off you with fury in his eyes, and he shoved him away from you. Your brother wasn't sure who to yell at first, so you took the opportunity to tell Uhtred that it's not what he thinks it is.

'It is not?!' Uhtred snarled, 'his jacket is on the floor!' he pointed towards the leather jacket neither of you had bothered to pick up before, 'and his shoes are at your bedroom door. So tell me, what is this then!?'

Neither you or Sihtric spoke, still being too startled by being caught, and then you glanced at the clock on the wall.

'You aren't supposed to be home yet!'

'I texted you that I would be home earlier!' your brother hissed, 'but you probably never saw it, because you were too busy!' Uhtred paused to catch his breath, and he then pointed at Sihtric, 'you!' he barked, 'with my sister?!'

'We are both old enough-' Sihtric began, but Uhtred cut him off.

'I'll show you old enough!' Uhtred said and attempted to grab his shirt again, but you interfered by getting in between them.

'Why do you always have to ruin my relationships?!' you cried to your brother.

'What?'

'You!' you gave Uhtred a shove, 'you've ruined all those I told you about, ever since I was young! The only long lasting relationship I ever had was with my ex, because I never told you about it until he cheated!'

'And look where it got you!' your brother scoffed, 'and this?' he pointed between you and SIhtric, 'you weren't going to tell me about this either?'

'Why would I!' you yelled, 'you would never approve! You don't approve of anyone!'

'Damn straight I don't,' Uhtred said and he raised his hand, clearly meaning to slap Sihtric in his face, but you jumped in front of your boyfriend.

'No!' you screamed, 'don't you touch him!'

Uhtred grabbed your arm, wanting to drag you away from Sihtric, but the latter was quick to slap your brother's hand off of you, and he then pulled you in his arms.

'Don't you ever lay a finger on her,' Sihtric said calmly but threateningly.

Both men stared at each other in silence for a few long seconds, until Uhtred took a step back and scoffed as he shook his head.

'You two lied to me,' he said, 'sneaking around behind my back? In my apartment?'

'And how does that feel?' Sihtric retorted, 'what's it like for you to feel betrayed like that?'

Uhtred said nothing for a moment, then sniffed and scoffed again. 

'Leave,' he told Sihtric, 'you better leave right now, Sihtric Kjartansson, if you know what's good for you.'

'I'm not leaving here,' Sihtric said as he still held you, 'not without her.'

'And where are you gonna go?' Uhtred laughed, 'to Finan? He'll be thrilled to see you're bringing someone into his house. You know that's not an option, so where are you going?'

'I don't know,' Sihtric huffed, 'and I don't care. I'll figure it out. We will figure it out,' he squeezed you in his arms, 'because that's what you do when you love someone, Uhtred, you figure it out. You don't just leave or cheat. No, you stick by them and remain loyal. And you figure it the fuck out.'

You stared at your brother as he was silent again, absorbing the words Sihtric had just told him. And he was clearly contemplating between punching Sihtric in his face or giving you a piece of his mind, but he eventually did neither.

'You love her?' Uhtred asked after a moment, looking at his friend.

'I do,' Sihtric said without a doubt.

'And you?' Uhtred looked at you, 'do you love him?'

'I love him,' you sniffled, then looked up at Sihtric, 'I love you.'

'I love you too,' Sihtric whispered.

Uhtred paced back and forth for a moment, then threw his hands up and said, 'Fine. You stay, I will go.'

And without another word your brother left his apartment, going to god knows where and leaving you two behind, alone and startled. And you held each other after you both sat down on the floor, next to the kitchen island, processing everything that had just happened.

'Thank you for not leaving me,' you whispered after a while, as Sihtric dried your tears.

'You thought I would leave?'

'Every other guy always left me as soon as Uhtred interfered,' you sighed softly, 'so I figured this would be the same all over again.' 

'No,' Sihtric said softly and nuzzled your nose before he pecked your lips, 'I've known Uhtred for most of my life, and I'm not afraid of him. I know him. This reaction was expected, that's why I didn't fight him. I figured if he'd just punched me in the face he'd feel better, but you stopped him, and I thank you for that,' he chuckled, 'it's a lot nicer to not have a black eye.'

'I would never let him hurt you,' you smiled and took his chin, 'can't have your pretty face bruised now, can I?' you kissed his cheek.

'I would've lived,' Sihtric smiled with a faint blush on his face, 'but still, I appreciate it. It means a lot to know that you care about me. And as for Uhtred,' he sighed, 'he'll turn around. I know he will. If he really was against me, against us, he would've kicked me out by himself and you wouldn't even have gotten a chance to get in between me and him. It would've been a bloody fight, and you know that too.'

'I know,' you said and leaned your head on his shoulder, 'Uhtred knows you're a good guy, but I just didn't want to tell him about us because I knew this would happen. And I wasn't ready for more drama.'

'Neither was I,' Sihtric laughed, 'but it's done now. We survived it and he will be calm again when he returns.'

'He won't like you sleeping over though.'

'He won't,' Sihtric chuckled.

'But he'll have to deal with it,' you shrugged.

'Not for long,' Sihtric said and looked at you.

'What do you mean?'

'Because I've been looking for my own place for a few weeks already,' he said, 'I felt like I was a bother to Finan and his wife, so I wanted to move out there too as fast as I could. It just took a while to find a place I could afford, but I found one.'

'You did?' you gasped, then smiled and kissed his face all over with joy, 'that's great! I'm so happy for you! I'm still looking for a place myself-'

'You can stop looking,' Sihtric smiled as he silenced you politely, pressing one finger onto your lips, 'because I'd like for you to move in with me.'

@mrsarnasdelicious @neonhairspray @sihtricsafin @errruvande @penumbrie @lexeirikrleif @diiickbrainn @thatawkwardlittlefangirl @bubblyabs @dixie-elocin @alexagirlie @stupiddarkkside @urmomsgirlfriend1 @gemini-mama @foxyanon @man-i-be-that-pretty-motherfuckr @thenameswinter99 @m-a-s-h-k-a @superblyzanynight @hernakedmuse @ewanmitchellfanatic @lady-targaryens-world @cosmosnkaz @stronger-than-steel

[loviingpedri]

tasting blondies - mason mount and joe burrow

prompt: noticing a pattern in your love life.

joe b x reader

ex!mason mount x reader

warnings: grammar issues, cursing, arguing

click to help palestine

credits to owners for all images

sitting on the couch with you boyfriend, joe. you ran your fingers through his short hair.

“i can’t believe you did this.” you laughed as both of you smiled.

“yeah, me either. i decided to change it up for the summer. do something for the new season.” he held you tight, smelling his strong cologne.

“if it’s one thing, you look good. really good.” you clicked your tongue at the emphasis of the word ‘really’.

and that’s when the flashback hit you.

slowly touching his hair, admiring the white chocolate color. at the same time a few years ago, you would be ending a messy situation with a boy with a similar haircut, mason mount.

“is there something wrong?” joe asked you as your expression changed.

“no, nothing is wrong. something just came in mind.”

you love joe, seriously. the memories of june 2023 always come back to haunt you. meeting the famous other footballer, changing your life. you experienced so many things within a month. you were so attached, blinded by love, nothing would’ve seen it coming.

on mason’s summer vacation, he invited you to go to spain with him. of course you accepted, you wanted to see what this relationship could bring to your life.

in the end, it was pain, regret, and heartbreak.

joe was staring at your facial features and talking gently, “you can talk to me.”

“it’s nothing. just some old memories came back. it was never important anyway.” your cleared your throat, desperately wanting to change the topic on the conversation.

“is it about that one guy you told me about? mason mount, right?”

you looked at him, trying to find a good answer.

“yeah, but i don’t wanna think about him. he’s long gone in my life. i’m craving some brownies, what about you?”

laughing at you, “i think it’s funny, the guys sent in the group chat of him when i first showed my hair. they said it was funny how you’re dating another blonde now.”

“i never thought of that.” you laid your back on the coach, really taking in the information of the pattern you just figured out.

“you know, you never told me what happened with him.” you looked at joe, a lump formed in your throat.

————flashbacks————

“are you serious right now, mase?” you pushed him away from you as he was attempting to explain.

“it wasn’t like that!”

“you use that same fucking excuse for everything.”

“i’m not the one who followed someone else on this vacation.” he threw his arms up.

“everything is about you. isn’t it? i went on this vacation because i was in love with you. mase, you can’t be serious right now.”

“nobody told you to catch feelings, alright. i thought we both assumed this wasn’t gonna be serious.” you scoffed at him.

“so you took this as a joke? i am not a joke.”

“holy shit, you’re actually unbelievable. we were never official!”

“to you. you think mind games is funny?”

“i only thought this was a summer fling. i thought you were gonna see other people, like me. i wasn’t gonna stay in chelsea forever and i was sure you weren’t gonna stay.”

tears forming in your eyes. you were in disbelief.

“of course i was gonna stay with you. i was ready to leave everything behind to follow you. i thought we had something.”

“sorry y/n. you thought wrong.”

————flashback ended————

you cleared your throat as you poured white chocolate chips into the batter.

“so yeah, that was my lame ex.” you gave him a warm smile as you shared the most vulnerable part of your life.

“you didn’t deserve that, seriously.” joe stroked your hair as he ate a few chips.

“the past is past. the pain is healed, and i’ve got the best boyfriend ever.”

joe kissed your forehead as the oven beeped after it was done pre-heating.

-

sitting on the couch with freshly baked blondies.

“i think you have some sort of magic on men.” joe said, taking a bite after.

“what?”

“you start dating a guy, then all of a sudden, he goes blonde.” he shrugged his shoulders.

“i’ve never thought of that. i’m just really that powerful then.”

sharing a laugh, you were proud of the person you became. the pain healed, and so did your heart.

because, in the end, your feelings are valid. and you learned a lesson that no matter how much something hurts you, you can find happiness somewhere else, for the better.

[tomhockstetter7-111]

Highest Form of Empathy - Chapter 1

2k+ words

Logan x empath!reader

It's a blessing and a curse, feeling other's pain. More so when you can take it away, albeit at the expense of your own peace. One-night stands were a usual for you. That's all this was supposed to be. But, seeing someone in so much pain, you couldn't leave him like that. You just couldn't. Besides, it's not like you'd ever see him again.....

Chapter CW: Drinking, emotionless sex

Masterlist

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Late December, 2005

Calgary, Alberta

You sit at the bar, absentmindedly stirring your bright red cocktail with your straw as you stare past the collection of bottles on the wall. It’s been a long ass day, and the only thing on your mind now is to buy your favorite drink at your favorite bar, dull your senses, and just unwind. Truth be told, you shouldn't be drinking on a Wednesday night, but today was just breakdown after breakdown in back-to-back appointments from eleven to seven. Must be the winter months. A sangria just feels right for the moment. All the sweetness and all the alcohol? You were signed up the minute you walked through the doors. You don't hate your job. Far from it, actually. It always feels good to help. It's why you went into psych work in the first place. But, psychology is still a health profession, and health professions are known to be their own brand of exhausting. A quiet night alone is just what you need. But, as you make your way through your second cocktail of the evening, you can't help but feel a pair of eyes burning into your back, and, despite the alcohol, a feeling of want. Then longing. Then heartbreak. The heartbreak was particularly potent, causing a burning sensation in your chest. 'What a cliché.' Then there's...despair? No. Despair’s such a rarity in public. You're drunk, and probably confused. Your senses are just off. 

Rolling your eyes, you, reluctantly, turn around to find the stranger. It doesn't take long to lock onto a man with a brown leather jacket straight out of the 70s and a haircut reminding you vaguely of your mom's last cat. Then, you see those eyes; brown and black staring you down and cutting into your soul. They looked old, almost like the veterans you worked with at the office.

The two of you remain locked in this stare down, and you find yourself wishing he would just come by. Then, by the will of the gods, you think, he actually stands and begins stalking towards you. You’re not intimidated. If he meant you harm you would’ve sensed it by now. In fact, he’s caught your interest, and you keep your eyes on him as he makes his way to you.

"Can I help you?" You say as he pulls into the stool next to you.

"Just thought I'd enjoy the view up close," he says, placing his empty glass on the counter. You snicker before he orders a glass of whiskey to replace the one in front of him. You can smell the scent of cigars on his jacket, but there's also a smell of pine. Not to mention the smell all guys seem to have; the attractive ones anyway. And, that deep, gravelly voice nearly takes you out.

"Happy to be of service," you remark as he turns to face you. "Where you from? I haven't seen you around before."

"What? You here often?"

You take a moment of pause before choosing your next words. "Alcohol takes the edge off." You say, gesturing to your glass, and he gives a look akin to sympathy. When his drink arrives, he downs it completely. You bite your lip to keep yourself from chuckling at his antics.

He places a hand on your thigh, and your heart nearly stops as he rubs circles into it with his thumb, “I know something else that could take the edge off." Catching a glance at his eyes again, you notice they're completely blown out, mirroring the desire pooling in your stomach. He's smiling, too. It's a sweet smile, not too sleazy, thankfully. But, it doesn't quite reach his eyes.

"Well," you place a hand over his. But, your smile falters a little. He feels off. There’s almost a sense of wrongness to him. A feeling of deep rage rests in your head, and your chest feels heavy because of it. Dumbfounded, you stare at him as he props his head on his hand and raises his eyebrows at you. Probably best to ignore whatever you're perceiving because, frankly, you’ve had enough for one day. You need, no, you deserve a fucking break. It’s only Wednesday and already you seemed to be dealing with it all; fears of mutants, PTSD, veterans, horrors of war. A shit world only getting shittier, and a break sounded fucking lovely. And, damn, this guy is pretty to look at. Clearing your throat you say, "What did you have in mind?"

He smirks at you and calls down the bartender. He leaves a wad of cash from his pocket on the counter, probably enough for both your drink and his, then nearly rips you from the chair and out the door, tugging you by the hand down the block and around a dark corner to a dead end, you stumbling all the way.

He smashes you against the wall, nearly knocking the wind out of you, and immediately his lips are on your neck with his hands roaming your body freely. Your hands shoot up to grab his shoulders as you feel him biting at your skin. Wasting no time, he hikes up your long skirt, exposing you to the winter cold, as he wraps your leg around his waist. He finds a spot on your neck that earns him a small whimper as he grinds against you.

You feel him travel under your shirt and tug your bra down, gaining better access. Squeezing your breasts hard, he makes you yelp, but you don't care. All you care about is what you're perceiving in your head. Your lust mixed with his is complete and utter bliss to your exhausted brain.

You weave your hands through his hair, and it's not long until he finds the angle against your clit that draws out a quiet moan. And, oh, you love it. You begin to move your hips in tandem with his, unable to get enough, and ignore the despair that hits you like a bullet out of nowhere. You try not to care, but it catches you completely off guard and lodges itself in the back of your mind for...what is it? The third time tonight? It doesn’t matter. It’s not your problem. You’re perfectly able to push it aside.

"Don't rip it out, doll." 

You're drawn back to reality by his hot breath on your icy skin and only then realize your iron grip on his hair. Oops. You release his cat ears and resort to burying your hands in his shirt and dragging your nails over his upper back. The ridge of his belt rubs against you and you're nearly sent into the bliss of orgasm. Then he pulls away. You let out a pitiful whine as he grabs your neck. "Not very patient, are we?"You huff out a laugh as he runs a finger over your pulse.

"C'mere." He's rough when he pulls you away from the wall before turning you to face it. Grabbing a shoulder, he forces you down, and you have to catch yourself on the wall to avoid tumbling over completely. He gathers the whole of your skirt and bunches it up by your waist before tugging your panties down to your knees. Again, you do your best to ignore the cold. You hear the clinking of a belt buckle as his free hand roams over your back side. Every now and then he grabs a handful of flesh around your hip to squeeze and lets out heavy breaths.

Before you know what's happening he hunches over you, wrapping an arm around your waist while steadying your hip with the other as he prods at your entrance. "Dripping wet already? Barely done anything." He's teasing you.

"Better not make that a habit." You chuckle. "Then again, you seem to like just standing ther-" your moan cuts you off as he shoves into you without warning.

"Quite a mouth you got, sweetheart. Wonder if you got an off button," and wouldn't he like to know. Although, he seems too preoccupied with your ass to consider your mouth. He begins pumping slowly at first, but deep. It's agonizing. You let out whimpers and groans and pleas for 'faster' and 'harder' as he repeatedly hits your g-spot. He runs his hands up your shirt again as he finally picks up the pace. Another bullet of distress hits you for good measure. You're starting to wonder what brought him to this situation where he's fucking a stranger behind a building like this. Clearly it wasn't just being horny. You try to shut out how loud the torment is. But, it doesn't cease.

You hope your mood shift isn't obvious to him as your body provides a very different reaction to his movements as they speed up. You can't help but tighten around him, and he's clinging to you like his life depends on it. For a moment you wonder if it does. You bite your knuckles as your moans start to get louder, but he grabs your hand and holds it to your chest, intertwining his fingers with yours in the process.

"Didn't tell ya to shut up. Wanna hear...those pretty sounds of yours. Let...the whole damn city hear." So, you do as you're told. You let out moan after cry after whine as he simply grunts into your ear about how tight you are, how good you feel, and its music to your ears. It's not until his grunts finally do turn into moans and his pace falters that you know he's close, and frankly so are you. Tightening and pulsing yourself around him you hear a small "Where?" behind you.

"Anyw-anywhere's fine," you say.

You feel him smirk against your neck as he inhales deeply into your hair. You moan with him as he moves his hand from yours to your clit, rubbing it with a fierce intent. That makes you shriek and lose it completely. You grab his wrist for some semblance of security as you both topple over the edge. He doesn't stop and instead rides out his high still buried inside you.

"Fuck," you mumble as he finally slows.

Once he catches his breath he pulls out and stands up straight; putting himself away before helping you stand in your cock drunk state. So, he is a gentleman after all. He grabs your chin firmly and you look into his still blown pupils. You can’t help but notice how endless they seem. Like two dark pools you could get lost in forever. They nearly drown you. And, you're certain they mirror your own by now. He smirks at your delirious face and dopey smile, and you can't help but stifle a laugh at his. He really was pretty to look at.

"Thanks for the good time, doll." 

As he pulls you in for a kiss, you inhale sharply, snapped back to your senses. You can’t leave him like this. You just can’t. It’s fine. Just this once, you’ll do it. It hits you. All of it hits you. Anguish, longing, heartache, confusion, and rage, so much rage, it nearly turns you to a wreck as you trade his emotions for yours, and you curse yourself out for doing so. When he pulls away, his face is pale, mouth agape with a look you can't decipher. It almost looks empty. For a beat, he just stares at you. Occasionally his eyes dart across your face, like he's searching for something. Slowly, eventually, he steps back; his breathing shallow. But, you don’t dare look away when he looks like his world just shattered. Then, he takes another step back. Then another. 

"See you around." He doesn't give you a chance to respond before walking away.

You go to pull your panties up from around your knees and silently watch his disappearing form. He doesn't look back. Once he turns the corner you run a hand through your hair and huff out a laugh as you look up at the sky. So many thoughts swirl around your head, but one stands out above the rest.

"What happened to you?" You mumble. He didn't look more than thirty-five. Yet, so much pain.

But, now isn't the time to dwell on it. It’s far past time to drag yourself home and prepare for the work of tomorrow. You shove your hands into your pockets and put away what you were just exposed to. 'Deal with it later,' you tell yourself. But, even on the walk home, you can't forget those eyes. And, that smile in the bar. It was cute. But, something about it seemed so strained. You don't notice you're smiling to yourself as you rush home, the stranger's face nestled in the back of your mind.

"See you around," he said. Yeah, sure. Whatever.

[sungjinhos]

IMPATIENT

✦ genre: friends with benefits, a dash of humor (?), reader is a bit of a brat and this has sub and dom undertones - smut

✦ word count: 3.040

✦ Thea note: okay first this was supposed to be a drabble for my girl @toruro so mika - i hope you enjoy it. second, I won't say anything bad about my own work but lately, i have been so busy and tired that writing is just harder than usual even when I have fun with it, i really like reader on this one so maybe we will see a pt 2 when my brain is not working at 25% of its capability - but I do hope y'all enjoy this even tho my brain is like fighting for dear life!!!

Your mind was completely empty. 

Hoshi had been speaking for a solid thirty minutes and if somebody asked what was the problem you couldn’t say something because everything that left Hoshi’s mouth did reach your ear, but your brain didn’t process it, because you were too busy using all your cognitive function. The only thing you could focus on was how Minghao was laughing at something Jeonghan said - even tho you actually didn’t hear his giggle it was something that you knew so well that your brain made you believe that he was laughing right there - at your side, but more than that, it was on how a brunette girl who was actually on his side - eating everything up, laughing at everything, looking at Minghao in awe, that, that scene was what making your brain way too busy. 

"And then she was like super angry that I didn't text her I mean she said we should stop talking first-" Hoshi said and stared at you waiting for an answer.

"Yeah, that's sucks, I'm sorry," you say taking another sip of your beer, "you know what? Maybe you should talk to Jeonghan. He could totally talk to her about how you misunderstood everything," you say already trying to drag Soonyoung to the other side of the room. 

"Yo!” Hoshi’s eyes lit up, “That's- That's really nice advice,"

"Right, let's talk to him," You say interlocking your arms with Hoshi and finally dragging him across the room, not even feeling that sorry, but again, you were too curious, too focused, to actually care about Hoshi’s love problem. Hell, you had one of your own right in your point of view

"Jeonghan my guy!" Hoshi calls making everyone in that little circle pay attention to you two. 

"What is going on?" Minghao asks when you stop at his side, that side-eye he gives you when he knows - somehow - that you have been up to no good. 

"You ask me?" You try your best to bat your eyelashes at him, even tho you know he won’t eat it up. 

"You were the one planning everything," Minghao says.

“Planning?” The brunette girl asks, and she is cute, she seems nice, she is the epitome of the girl next door.

“Oh yeah, planning how Hoshi is gettin’ his girl back you see-” You start, trying your best to be your own version of the girl next door.

“Hey I need something to drink, be right back,” Minghao says and starts to drag you to the kitchen - oh, that was how Hoshi felt? Weird, Karma was acting super fast lately. 

“Wait I wasn't planning-” You try to argue, huffing, and almost stomping your feet, "I was listening to a good friend talk about his heartbreak, and you? What were you doing with miss brunette and Jeonghan?"

"Are you?" He says and you can see how the corners of his mouth start to lift up, the foreshow of a smile and you just can’t take it.

"Nope," you say, trying your best, but you know he already won. 

"You are!" He giggles - that silly giggle he always does, the giggle that you love to hear, the giggle that makes your heart full almost to the point it bursts. And you give up, because you know he knows, "Maybe? A little?"

"Sure, a little," Minghao says, crossing his arms and leaning on the kitchen counter, and god he looks so good, he is tired and you know that because he has his glasses on instead of his contacts, his hair is already huffed up and longer - you like that, and you like to think he didn’t show up on his monthly haircut because you said that to him the last time, 

"Can we-" you start and before you finish you can see his smile. 

"Sure, you go first or I go first?" He asks. You two made a routine of it, made an almost everyday practice, a little secret that you two shared, tucked in away os the curious eyes of everyone else. In a way, it was something sacred, cherished, something only you two could tap into.  

"To your room?" You ask even though you know it is the only place possible right now, Minghao just nods, "Okay I go first, but you should go talk to Hoshi, he is in actual distress I wasn’t planning that up"

"Sure," Minghao says, standing in front of you - he looks at the door before he holds your face and just plants his lips on yours. And before you can say anything he vanishes. 

Leaving you there, standing still in the middle of the kitchen.

It was weird the whole sneaking out to not get caught part of the deal. You and Minghao have been friends for so long that your friends were his friends, and his friends were your friends and the whole thing was just messy. And maybe you didn't want to share that with everyone - every new detail of Hao was yours. But you also didn’t want to share the tiptoeing in the shallow water phase. 

In a way you wanted to learn what that was, is, and will become on your own.

So you try your best to not draw any attention to yourself, the first step of the process pick yourself a cold beer - that's why you were in the kitchen. Step two, go to Minghao's room, not that much trouble. Step three is not to fall asleep in his bed, he does spend way too much money on bedsheets, it feels like you are lying in a cloud. Soft, fluffy, and slightly cold against your skin. 

And you are almost drifting until you hear the door open, and it is not Hao.

"Hey," Chan says, already rummaging around, opening Minghao's drawers, "Did you see a charger around? Someone took mine, for real people need to understand boundaries in this household."

"Don't you tell me," you say smiling at Chan, the irony of it. 

"Yeah I know," he huffs making you laugh, "but someone stole mine first," then he turns out you, his expression is almost a question mark, "Wait, are you okay? Why are you here?"

"Just a headache," you say trying your best to give an academy winner performance, lifting up your hand, touching your forehead and all.

"Oh yeah, do you need anything? I know this house is a mess but we do have painkillers," Chan says sincerely. 

"No, no, already took one, I'm good, thanks Channie," you say almost feeling bad to lie, almost being the keyword.

"Chan, what are you doing?" Minghao says resting his shoulder on the door. 

"Oh man," Chan says defeated, "I am doing nothing, and if your charger disappeared it wasn't me ok? Mine was stolen too,"

"I-" Minghao shakes his head, huffing up a bit while closing the door. 

"Lock it," you remark "or we will get Mingyu searching for a hair tie while your dick is in my mouth," You say taking off your own shirt, and already working on the button of your pants when Minghao's cold hands reach yours.

"Why are you always in a hurry," he says, his hands traveling to your shoulders, pressing you down until your back finds the mattress. 

"You do live with four other guys, so-" you say like it was common sense, because you know Minghao's roommates, they are your friends as well, and you know they are fucking nosy.

"No, you always like that," Minghao says, lowering his body against yours, "even when nobody is around," he says against your neck. 

"I'm not," you say, hands on the back of his neck, playing with his hair while his lips find the skin of your neck.

"You are," he says kissing your jaw, "you need to learn how to be patient."

"Yeah, whatever," you say almost rolling your eyes, tugging at Minghao's hair, "not today though." 

"Why not?" Minghao says, voice low like he is telling you a secret, while his digits trace the strap of your bra. 

"Because," you whine but Minghao is still working in slow motion, his lips tracing your collarbones, "today you gonna fuck me stupid, I can learn something tomorrow"

"I can fuck you stupid even if we do it slowly," Minghao giggles again, god and you almost hate him, his fingers finally tugging the strap enough, he gives your shoulder a kiss before tugging the cup of your bra. 

"And if I say please?" You say making Minghao stop on his track and you almost laugh before he looks at you.

"If you say what?"

"If I say pretty please can you fuck me stupid and like right now? You can totally teach me a lesson tomorrow or-" you say hands against Minghao's face and tugging him just enough until he understands what you want - him - pressed against you, his lips against yours, him against your hands, your mind is only filled with thoughts of him, him, him.

“Come on-” Minghao says, holding your head - making you whine a little when you try to follow him, trying to keep your lips connected, “say it”

“Oh no,” It’s your time to giggle, your smile plastered across your face, and it is so easy to be happy when Minghao's cold hands are against your waist when he is kneeling between your thighs, “You like it too much”

“And? What’s wrong with that?” he says dragging his hands over your body until reaches the waistband of your jeans, “If you ask prettily," Minghao pauses tugging at the belt loops, "you know I will give you everything you ask for”

"Promise?" You say, your own voice sounds different against your ears somehow, your hands holding Minghao's forearm. You can feel your cheeks burn, but just like Minghao, you are willing to give him everything he asks for. And he just nods, hands pressed against your thighs now. "Can you please just fuck me? I promise tomorrow you can tease me and take your precious time."

"Yeah, sure sweetheart," Minghao says smirking at you, it is so condescending that you want to stand up and pick a fight with him, but in the end he means it - he is already working on your jeans, hands dragging against your hips before he gets off the bed just to pull at the bottom hem. "but, just so you know, make sure you have a free afternoon tomorrow."

"Sure, sure, gonna timeblock you right after my dentist appointme-" you start but end up being cut off by your own welp of surprise because Minghao's hand finds your thigh and drags you across the bed.

"You are so smart-mouthed sometimes," he says again finding his place in the space between your thighs, and you just pout - not because of the quip, but because he is still fully dressed, "What?"

"You're still dressed," you say tugging at the hem of his shirt, and Minghao laughs again like you are saying the silliest thing in the world, but that doesn't take your mind away when he lowers his body to kiss you again. 

You try your best to keep your mind focused, still tugging Minghao's shirt, hands lifting the material off his back until it's pooling at his shoulders. When Minghao gets on his knee to finally take the damn thing off you follow him, lips against his chest, hands already on his jeans. 

"Come on," you complain, tugging at his jeans. 

"Ok, ok," Minghao huffs out before leaving the bed again, looking at you with a smirk on his face, "I'm taking it off don't need to pout," he says finally taking off those damn jeans but leaving on his underwear, "come on, your turn"

"Hun?" You say totally distracted, making Minghao giggle again, "Oh okay," you finally get what he means, taking off your own bra. 

"Fuck," Minghao says, before he is kissing you again, "you are so pretty, you should let me-"

"Baby you promised," you whine, because you know Minghao like the back of your hand. 

"You are the first one that hates the idea of me taking my time," Minghao says when his hands find your hips, tugging at your panties, making you lift your hips a little to help him, "I could totally eat you out right now,"

"I know," you whine, and it is true, he could eat you out, and you know he loves doing it. But Minghao is right, you do not have the patience, "tomorrow I let you go down on me for like forty-five minutes"

"You say like that is a hassle for you," Minghao says, hands against your knee, eyes on your pussy,  "or for me by the way"

"Oh for fuck sake," you try to close your legs even though Minghao’s hand is still on your knees, blocking your action. 

"Ok ok sh-" Minghao says, finally lowering his underwear, and for the first time you think about it. Think about learning how to be patient, to be calm, and composed, just so you can change your plans just to put Minghao’s dick in your mouth. Okay, maybe not calm and collected but less stubborn, but before you can say it all Minghao is just taking too long searching for the condom making you impatient again, but before you can complain he guides his dick to your pussy.

“This is insane,” you complain, Minghao hovering over you, his longer bangs over your face, making you ticklish. 

“What?” Minghao says against the skin of your neck, his voice sound muffled. His hand is still on your waist, his dick hot against your thigh. 

“You really want to make me beg?” You say tugging Minghao’s hair, “Is this a kink? Do we need to talk about this?” 

“I mean, I’m not really against a pretty girl begging for my dick,” Minghao says, making you shudder.

“Not gonna give you that,” you say - and it is not because you are stubborn, you are, and you know that, but with Minghao is just fun, the push and pull of it, the banter, this thing going on between the two off you. 

“You are so fucking stubborn,”

“Come on, I already said please,” You say pretending you are against the idea of begging Minghao - like you never did before. 

“Sure baby,” Minghao says giving you a kiss on your cheeks, and is just so sweet like he is not about to fuck you like he is not holding his dick against your pussy - rubbing himself against you, "Just because you said please", he says in that condescending tone, but before you can argue or raise your voice, Minghao is finally fucking you and the feel of his dick stretching you out is enough to make you speechless. 

And it was always like that, it always ended up with Minghao filling you up.

And you can't complain when he is fucking you the way he likes it - a lewd pace that makes your mind spin, it makes you claw Minghao's back, while his grip against your tightens. Maybe - you think to yourself - just maybe you try to hurry Minghao up to see if he caves up, to see if he has another side inside him, to see if he fucks you hard and fast makes you like him less, makes you less addicted to the feel of his skin against yours, the feel of his mouth against your neck. 

But he never complies. 

He keeps fucking you at his own pace, at his own volition. 

“Hao please,” you beg - because you are ready to give Minghao everything he wants if he gives you something in return. 

“Ah, so now we are not above begging?” Minghao chuckles, his voice so close to your ear that his lips graze your skin. 

“Please,” you try again “I will beg, I will do whatever you want I promise.” 

“Come on,” Minghao says, one of his hand trailing against your skin, until it reach your neck, “we both know you won’t, behaving is against your own existence” 

“You say that like you hate it”

“I actually love it, that’s the problem,” Minghao says, planting a kiss on your cheeks before he finally picks up his pace.

You understand Minghao really, sometimes you are too hastened. Is not like you are particularly against him taking his time, warming you up, eating you out, and fucking you at his own pace - you enjoy all that. But you also enjoy what he is doing now, fucking you fast and hard enough that you need to hold on for dear life.

You like this Minghao too - this version of him that nothing is holding him back. 

And the only thing in your mind is Minghao.

The only thing you can think about is him. How he feels against you, how Minghao licks your skin, how his hand clutches your hips, and how he is panting against your neck. When everything starts to get muffled you know that you are almost there - and the only thing you can do to muffle your own noises is to bite down Minghao's shoulder. 

And everything stands still for a minute.

“We need to stop sneaking out,” MInghao says panting above you, you look at him and how disheveled he looks, how his sweaty hair clings to his forehead. He always says that to you, how he always brings that up after sex, If he weren’t a non-believer you would say it was the Christian guilt kicking in after sex, but you know Minghao, and you know why he asks.

“Yeah, I think Chan is finally catching up that something is going on,” You say, your own smile plastered on your face when you hear his silly giggle. 

You look at Minghao again, he is sitting on the bed, back against you. probably dealing with his condom, and you try to bite your own tongue, you try to hold yourself back but the urge to say something is stronger than you, and to be honest when it is about pushing Minghao’s buttons you are not the strongest soldier “but first we are going to talk about your kink list sir," and Minghao silly giggle just turns into a disapproving growl. 

[luveline]

hi i just got a haircut and feel very cute :) can i request r getting a haircut and the bau team fawning over it (with derek or spencer it’s up to you)

ty for ur request! this ended up being reader x the whole team, but heavily derek, and more subtly spencer !! fem!reader

cw readers hair was longer, and is now short

You take a deep, slow breath before you open the door that leads to the office. The first thing you see is Derek, to your horror, perched like he's waiting for you on the lip of his desk. 

Hotch must have known the agony with which you'd be subjected sitting across from someone like Derekz and he did it anyway. Handsome, caring, flirtatious to a fault, it was a recipe for heartbreak in the making. You quite like your new haircut; if Derek or the others don't feel the same you'll be mortified. 

You keep your head down as you walk to your desk. If you see Derek's expression, you'll lose all steam. You don't look up until you're close enough to smell his warm, understated cologne, raising a nervous hand to a button on your shirt. 

"Hi, Morgan," you say. 

"Oh, no, baby, we're on a first name basis," he says, raising his eyebrows at you. "Is this a joke?" 

"Am I usually joking?" you ask weakly. 

Derek shakes his head from side to side, crossing his arms over his chest, a ball of kinetic energy like the mere sight of you invigorates him. Safe to say he likes it, safer still when he brings a hand to his jaw and scrubs at it. "I don't even know what to say," he remarks, with all the intonation of a man disappointed. 

He sighs tiredly and pulls his phone out of his pocket, hitting the first button on his speed dial. Within seconds he's been answered, the phone pressed to his ear. "Hey, babygirl. You better get to the bullpen stat. It's an emergency."

"Derek, you'll give her a heart attack!" 

"Am I lying?" he asks. 

"Let up, Morgan," Emily says, coming up behind you to squeeze your shoulders. "It looks amazing. When did this happen?"

"Why wasn't I informed?" Derek asks.

"Oh my god!" JJ cheer-whispers, a stack of case files in her arms as she approaches from her office. "You cut your hair! It looks so good, why didn't you say anything?" 

"It was kind of a spur of the moment decision," you say, flushing from all the attention. 

Derek's still pretending to be mad, though an undeniable appreciation lines his mouth. Frowny brows, poorly hidden grin. 

"Spencer," Emily says, nudging a hyper-focused Spencer in the shoulder where he sits huddled at his desk. 

Spencer looks up from his book and it promptly falls between his hands. He reaches down to grab it in a panic and smacks his forehead on the desk. 

"Spence!" JJ yelps, rushing forward to help him. Her files slide out flat onto his desk as she pulls his head up. "Jesus, Spencer." 

You're about to lend a hand when a familiar and bubbly voice shouts unashamedly across the bullpen. "Oh my god! Y/N? Y/N! Oh my god, you look so pretty!" 

You spin on your heel to offer Penelope a thankful smile. "Pen, you said that before you even really saw it."

"I'm seeing it now, aren't I?" she asks, rushing forward in a cloud of curly blonde hair. The hot pink ruching on her corset top scratches your arms as she grabs you in a sideways hug. "We don't see you for a week and you cut all your hair off?" 

"Hey– hey!" Derek says. "Don't act like this isn't the best thing to happen to this department since Prentiss joined. You were something else before," —Derek nods appreciatively, a low whistle escaping pursed lips— "but now? You better clear your schedule, baby. Me and you are going out." 

"I think he's serious," Emily says, her jaw dropped. 

You raise a hand to your eyes, completely overwhelmed by the chaos. "Is something wrong?" Hotch asks from the balcony, killing your stolen reprieve immediately. You look up to find him watching over you all with a boss brand of disapproval. 

"Haircut," Penelope says nervously, pointing at your face. 

Hotch visually notices your hair. His smile is genuine. "It looks nice," he says. 

"Thank you, sir," you say, well and truly spent. In the best way possible, your team smothers you with love. If you'd known they'd react like this you would've cut your hair a long time ago. 

Except for what it's done to poor Spencer, nursing a sizable red welt atop his eyebrows. 

"You okay?" you ask, bending at the waist to smile at him apologetically. 

The excitement must be getting to him too, his usually pale cheeks kissed by a rosy twinge. "I'm fine." 

"Round table," Rossi suggests where he stands to Hotch's left, "before young Reid passes out."  

[theformulaimagines]

Untitled. 2017 [part 3]

I ain't proud of all the punches that I've thrown in the name of someone I no longer know. For the shame of being young, drunk, and alone .Traffic lights and a transmitter radio. I don't like that when they threw me in the car I gave your name as my emergency phone call. Honey, it rang and rang, even the cops thought you were wrong for hangin' up. I dial drunk, I'd die a drunk, I'd die for you…

Pairing: Kwon Jiyong x fem!singer reader

Plot: You loved this man. Ever since you were kids. But when self hatred runs deep everything breaks under the weight of it.

Warning: english isn't my first language, angst, mentions of: depression, stress, heartbreak, friends to strangers (to lovers later (?)), swearing, grief

Previously

8 years to be precise. It’s not like he counted. But he did. It was almost unavoidable considering how he was constantly thinking about you. The grief of losing you sat on his heart like a rock, and no matter what he did, where he was, who he slept with…it never shifted. Whoever said time heals all wounds lied and needed to be shot.

The evilest thing about it was that missing you felt like a thirst. It lingered in the back of his throat. Over the years, he met new people and befriended a few of them as well. Yet, nobody came close to…you. No friendship felt like yours. The insides of his cheeks had been in a consistent state of dryness. No wonder he couldn’t move on.

Jiyong was too proud anyway. His hands had been too occupied with romanticizing his crucifixion. He could’ve called you to apologize so many times. But he didn’t. Instead, he threw himself into his work, to neglect the guilt and remorse that were running through his veins at any given moment in time. Nevertheless, he never once changed his emergency contact to anyone else. It had always been…you. Of course.

He kept a lot of secrets when it came to you. Like for example in the top drawer of his desk laid his old Nokia. Neatly placed next to a couple of old notebooks. And while he had changed his main phone countless times, he never threw it away.

Because he somehow didn’t manage to figure out how to transfer your old voicemails to his computer. And the thought of losing the last thing he had left of you terrified him to death. Jiyong knew that it was ridiculous. But that Nokia is his time capsule, a reminder of a time when he liked himself. Genuinely liked himself.

He wrote songs about you. All the time. Even if he didn’t want to. It occasionally felt like he couldn’t not write about you. Considering how your fingers were in every single crease of his brain, pressing themselves into it. God, how he missed you. And he was so angry that you didn’t reach out either.

“The phone works both ways.”, Jiyong let out, looking down at his freshly painted fingernails. Out of the corner of his eyes, he caught the way Daesung’s smile slowly faded away.

“Yeah, but…”, he paused:” Never-mind. Forget I said anything.”

„But what? Did she say something?“

His friend simply sighed.

„She talked about me? What did she say? Was it-.“, he cleared his throat. Embarrassed and disgusted by his own eagerness.

„Y/N misses you.“, Daesung answered after a moment of silence:” When we talk about you that’s all she ever says.”

Jiyong never acted on it. And to this day, he doesn’t understand why.

Of course, you thought about him. It was difficult not to, considering how you had loved that man ever since you both were teenagers. Running around the YG tower. Back then you’ve adored the way his haircut made him appear older than he was. You’ve always been drawn to people with confidence. And Jiyong had enough confidence for two.

You also adored the way he was treating you differently. Jiyong never truly liked a lot of people. But he cared for you. So much. People don’t know it, but you two were the main reason K-pop labels began including clauses in their contracts prohibiting idols from the same company from dating one another. YG knew. Everyone knew.

Everyone except for you two. To this day no one knows why.

„Everyone thought you two would start dating at some point.“, Daesung had told you one evening after you finished up working at your studio. It nearly made you choke on your water. „Don‘t be ridiculous.“, you only responded, turning all the remaining lights off:“ We‘ve only ever been friends.“

„No, you weren’t.“

It was a simple answer. Making you stop dead in your tracks for a second too long. You turned to Daesung who simply looked at you with big pitiful eyes:“ You know, he thinks you hate him.“

„Who?“ „You know who.“

A sigh left your lips and you grabbed your bag before stepping past your friend into the hallway:“ That‘s stupid. Why would I hate him?“ The explanation for that was so easy Daesung didn’t even say anything else. Rather, you both just walked towards the exit.

„Dae.“, you whispered as soon as you both stepped out into the freezing night. „Yeah?“

„Tell him…I miss him.“

Daesung simply nodded. And he did tell him. Jiyong just couldn’t acknowledge it.