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rafeskai · 3 days ago

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Life as We Know It — Rafe Cameron

Chapter Three

Two opposites must navigate love, loss, and unexpected parenthood to discover the meaning of family.

Summary: When tragedy strikes, two very different individuals find their lives unexpectedly intertwined as they become the guardians of an orphaned child. As they navigate the challenges of co-parenting, balancing careers, and confronting their pasts, they discover that family can form in the most surprising ways. Through heartfelt moments and unexpected humor, they explore what it means to build a life together—one step at a time.

Pairings: Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings: Character deaths & angst.

Author's Notes: Shit really just went down in this chapter. IM SORRY

Masterlist: Here

The months that followed were a blur of late nights, baby cries, and countless moments of learning how to be something neither of you had ever planned to be—parents. The house was constantly filled with the soft murmur of Willa’s coos, the sound of bottles being washed, and the endless shuffle of trying to make everything fit together.

It wasn’t easy. There were days when you thought you couldn’t keep your eyes open, and nights when you questioned if you were doing anything right at all. But there were moments, too—small victories, fleeting glimpses of joy—that kept you both going.

Moving in with Rafe had been the right decision, you told yourself. The practical side of it made sense, especially as the weeks went on. Rafe was still Rafe: intense, unpredictable, and sometimes impossible to read. But he was trying, and that was something.

Willa had come to see both of you as a constant in her life. She was thriving—growing fast, her chubby cheeks rounding out and her eyes lighting up when either of you walked into the room. You’d become an expert in diaper changes and feeding schedules, and though you hated to admit it, Rafe was actually pretty good with her. He had his moments where he was awkward, unsure, but when it came down to it, he was there. He would hold her when she cried, rock her when she wouldn’t sleep, and talk to her in that soft, almost tender voice you rarely heard from him anywhere else.

You had both fallen into a routine, the rhythm of everyday life settling in like a steady heartbeat. Willa would wake up around 6:30 AM, and by the time Rafe would stumble downstairs with a groggy groan, you’d already had coffee brewing and Willa settled on her blanket. The mornings were quiet—comfortable silence, filled with routine, until Willa started to fuss and everything shifted into motion.

You’d learned how to work together without much communication, both of you picking up on cues. One of you would get the bottle ready while the other soothed Willa, and when she finished, it was time for a nap.

And as much as you hated to admit it, you’d grown used to Rafe’s presence—his heavy footsteps down the hallway, the sound of his voice trying (and sometimes failing) to sing Willa back to sleep at 3 AM.

But there were challenges too. It wasn’t all sweet moments and baby giggles. There were the days where everything felt like it was too much, when you felt overwhelmed by the endless demands of raising a baby, of balancing the practicalities of your life with the unexpected responsibilities of parenting.

There were the mornings when you woke up feeling like you hadn’t slept at all, when you were late for your shifts at the café, and you’d have to rush around to get everything in place. Rafe would always be there, trying to help, but still learning the ropes himself.

The first time you caught him on the phone with his aunt, asking how to properly wash a baby bottle, you had to stifle a laugh. It was the first time you realized that Rafe Cameron—wild, unpredictable Rafe—was just as clueless as you about this whole parenting thing. He might have grown up in a house full of servants, of wealth and privilege, but when it came to taking care of a tiny human, he was as green as they come.

But you didn’t hold it against him. You couldn’t.

The kitchen was where a lot of your moments happened—early mornings when you’d both stand side by side, quietly making coffee, or late nights when you’d settle Willa back into bed, whispering soft words of reassurance to each other. It wasn’t perfect. It wasn’t easy. But it was yours.

One night, as you both took a rare moment to sit on the couch after putting Willa to bed, you glanced at Rafe from the corner of your eye, noticing how he rubbed the back of his neck, a tired but satisfied look on his face. You couldn’t help but let a small smile tug at your lips.

"She’s growing so fast," you said softly, breaking the comfortable silence. "I swear she was just a tiny little thing a few weeks ago."

Rafe hummed in agreement, glancing over at you with a small, almost wistful smile. "Yeah. And it feels like every time we get used to something, she changes again."

You nodded, leaning back against the couch. "It’s like we’re constantly playing catch-up."

"Yeah," he said, the word carrying more weight than usual. He ran a hand through his hair. "You ever think about what this is all gonna look like when she gets older? I mean, God, we’re just making it up as we go."

You chuckled, the sound light and almost freeing in the quiet room. "I think that’s kind of the point, right?" You paused, looking over at him, your expression softening. "I never thought I’d be here. With you. Raising a baby. But it doesn’t feel... impossible anymore."

Rafe glanced at you, a small flash of something unguarded in his eyes. "Yeah. Me neither." He paused, looking down at his hands before looking back up. "I guess we’re doing okay, huh?"

You didn’t have an answer at first. Instead, you just let your gaze soften. Maybe you hadn’t figured everything out yet. Maybe you still had a long way to go. But right now? Right now, in this moment, you were okay.

The door creaked from the hallway, and you both turned toward it, the sound of Willa stirring faintly through the door. Without a word, Rafe got up, stretching his arms before walking to the crib. You watched him for a moment, surprised at how natural it had become for him to step in like that.

You followed him, your steps quiet as you watched him gently pick Willa up, rocking her in his arms as he murmured something soft to her. You felt a flutter of something in your chest, a strange mix of relief and warmth.

“Got her?” you whispered, half-expecting him to protest.

He looked at you over his shoulder, his face soft, the exhaustion in his eyes mixing with something else—something more like contentment. “Yeah. Go back to sleep. I got it.”

And in that moment, as you watched him rock Willa back to sleep with ease, you realized something: this—whatever this was—had become a part of you. Not the life you’d planned, but a life that felt strangely right.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

It was a few days later, and a crisp morning greeted them when the crying started again. Willa had been particularly fussy the past few days—her sleep patterns erratic, her cries escalating to heart-wrenching wails that neither you nor Rafe could seem to soothe. You'd tried everything: feeding her, changing her, singing to her, rocking her to sleep—but nothing worked.

Rafe was pacing around the living room, his eyes scanning every corner of the room as if the solution to Willa’s crying was hidden under a piece of furniture or buried in a drawer. You sat on the couch, rubbing your eyes, already feeling the exhaustion of another sleepless night pressing in on you. You hadn’t been able to focus at work, and the lack of sleep made everything feel like a blur. But now, there was no ignoring it. The crying was louder, more insistent, and it was like a knife to your heart every time she screamed.

Rafe glanced at you, his frustration mounting. “We’ve tried everything,” he muttered, the words tinged with helplessness. "What else can we do?”

You shook your head, feeling that same helplessness clawing at you. “I don’t know... We’ve been through the list a hundred times.”

You both sat there for a moment, staring at the baby monitor as Willa's cries grew even more frantic. You were about to stand up, about to try the rocking chair again, when Rafe's voice broke through the tension.

“I might know something.”

You looked at him, confused. "What do you mean?"

Rafe shifted, his brow furrowing slightly as he leaned against the wall. “Sarah used to do this when she was little. It’s crazy, but it worked every time. She had this blanket... a childhood blanket. I don’t know, it just always calmed her down.”

Your eyes widened as you processed his words. "Wait... Sarah had a blanket? Here?"

Rafe nodded. “Yeah. I think it's still in the attic. I’ll go get it.”

You watched as Rafe turned to leave, the sound of his boots echoing on the stairs. There was a strange, almost surreal feeling in the pit of your stomach as he disappeared from view. Sarah’s blanket. You hadn’t known about it—had no idea it was even still here, tucked away in the attic, a piece of her childhood still lingering in the house after everything that had happened.

A few moments later, Rafe returned, a slightly worn but soft-looking blanket in his hands. He didn’t say anything as he made his way over to the crib where Willa was still crying, her little face scrunched up in distress.

“Here goes nothing,” Rafe muttered, more to himself than to you.

He gently wrapped the blanket around Willa, smoothing it over her tiny body. It was faded in spots, the fabric soft with age, but it carried a strange comfort to it—a piece of Sarah that had been forgotten until now. You stood quietly, watching the scene unfold, unsure of what to expect.

And then, in what felt like an instant, Willa’s cries started to fade. Her tiny hands grasped at the blanket for a moment, and then she let out a soft sigh. Her body, tense from the crying, relaxed in Rafe’s arms, and her big brown eyes blinked up at him, almost like she was seeing him for the first time.

You could hardly believe it. The moment felt like magic.

Rafe, looking just as surprised as you, stood there for a moment, his hands still holding Willa as she cooed softly, her eyelids fluttering. “I’ll be damned,” he whispered. “It actually worked.”

You couldn’t move. The sight of Willa—now calm and almost content—was like a weight lifted from your chest. You had been so focused on solving this crisis, on trying to manage everything, that you hadn’t considered that something so simple, so deeply tied to the past, might be the key.

As Rafe gently placed Willa back in her crib, you stood still, unable to shake the strange sensation that had crept into your heart. Watching him with the blanket, watching him soothe Willa, a feeling washed over you—an unfamiliar tightness in your chest that was both comforting and unnerving. It was as if, in that moment, a piece of Sarah had crossed into your life in a way that felt too intimate. Too real.

Rafe glanced over at you, his face soft, almost vulnerable. “I didn’t think it would actually work,” he admitted quietly, still gazing at Willa, who was now sleeping soundly, wrapped in the faded childhood blanket.

You swallowed, trying to shake the sudden lump in your throat. “I didn’t know she had it,” you whispered, your voice quiet. “It’s... it’s kind of strange, isn’t it? To think that something so simple could bring her comfort.”

Rafe nodded, walking slowly back toward the living room as he sat down on the couch. He looked at you, his gaze slightly distant but full of that same raw honesty you’d come to expect from him. “Yeah, it’s weird. But it makes sense, right? Sarah had that damn thing with her everywhere. Maybe she passed it on to Willa somehow. Who knows? Maybe it’s something about the smell, or just the familiarity of it. But I guess that’s the thing with kids—they find comfort in things that we can’t even explain.”

You didn’t answer immediately. The room felt thick with something unspoken. There was a soft, melancholic weight in the air, and your chest ached. You hadn’t expected to feel this—this weird pull in your heart. The thought of Sarah, the reminder of her presence in this house, in your life, and now, with Willa... it was all too much to process.

You sat down beside Rafe, your body heavy with the unspoken thoughts crowding your mind. Neither of you said anything for a while. There wasn’t anything to say, really. But the silence between you two didn’t feel uncomfortable this time. It felt... shared.

Finally, after a few moments, you spoke, your voice soft but steady. “It’s... strange to think that Sarah’s still here. In some way. For Willa.” You looked at Rafe, trying to read his face, but his expression was guarded. “It’s like... she’s still looking out for her, even now.”

Rafe didn’t meet your gaze immediately. He just stared at the floor, running his hand through his hair. “I don’t know,” he muttered. “But I hope so.”

You glanced down at Willa, her tiny form tucked into the blanket, her face peaceful now. The weight in your chest felt a little lighter. “I hope so, too.”

It wasn’t easy. None of this was. But at that moment, with Sarah's blanket wrapped around Willa, you both realized something—it wasn’t just about the past anymore. It was about the present. And the future.

You didn’t have all the answers, but maybe you didn’t need to. Maybe you just needed to trust that you were doing your best, that you were doing this for Willa, for Sarah, for each other. And maybe, just maybe, that was enough.

The day had shifted into something quieter, something more grounded. The house felt a little warmer, a little fuller, with Sarah’s memory lingering in the most unexpected of ways.

And as you sat there next to Rafe, silently watching over Willa, you couldn’t help but feel a strange sense of peace—the first you’d felt in a while.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

A few hours later, the night had settled into a rare quiet, the soft hum of the refrigerator and the occasional creak of the house the only sounds in the otherwise still air. Willa had finally fallen asleep—her tiny body now wrapped snugly in her crib, her peaceful face illuminated by the moonlight that spilled through the window. You and Rafe were sitting in the living room, a bottle of wine between you both, the remnants of the evening slipping by in a slow, comfortable haze.

It wasn’t something either of you had planned, but tonight felt different. The weight of the past few months, the stress of adjusting to this new life together, had somehow slipped away after dinner. There was no rush to get up, no urgent task that needed to be done. The wine flowed freely, and for a brief moment, it felt like you were allowed to just breathe.

You poured the second glass of wine, the conversation light, a mix of joking about how neither of you had ever really handled a bottle opener right and how neither of you knew much about wine, but at that moment, it didn’t matter. The normal world felt far away, and this small moment of calm was something you both desperately needed.

“I swear,” Rafe said with a half-grin, swirling his glass and leaning back into the couch, “I think I might be a natural at this wine thing.”

You laughed, lifting your own glass to your lips. “Oh yeah? That’s what I was thinking too. A whole new world of sophistication has opened up for you.” You clinked your glass against him, the light chimes almost too loud in the silence.

There was a quiet ease to the night. The tension of the past few months, the uncertainty of your situation, seemed far away. You both talked about random things—life before Willa, stupid high school memories, the occasional dig at the ridiculousness of the Kooks’ high-society antics. And somehow, in this soft glow of laughter, you both began to forget the weight of your new reality.

But as the night wore on, something in the air between you shifted.

The conversation had died down, and now the silence felt heavier, different. You caught Rafe’s gaze as he looked at you over the rim of his glass, and for the first time in what felt like forever, the space between you seemed charged. It was almost as if, after everything, this moment was too... easy. Too comfortable.

You shifted on the couch, the wine starting to cloud your mind in the way it did when it wasn’t just about a drink anymore. Your heart beat a little faster, a strange heat blooming in your chest.

Rafe’s eyes never left you, and you could feel the sudden awareness of his presence—his usual confidence now laced with something more raw. You tried to brush it off, to laugh it away, but your throat felt tight.

“I think we might’ve had a little too much,” you said, your voice a little unsteady, more than you’d intended. You weren’t sure if it was the wine or the sudden tension or maybe something else entirely.

He nodded, his gaze now focused entirely on you. “Yeah, probably. But... you know, it’s been a while since I’ve had a night like this. With someone.”

You felt the words sit heavy between you both, something unspoken hanging there, and for a brief moment, you swore you saw something flicker in his eyes—something that mirrored what you had felt earlier, that strange warmth in your chest.

You opened your mouth to respond, but before you could find the right words, Rafe shifted closer.

It was subtle, a slight movement, but it was enough to make your breath catch in your throat. And then, before you could stop yourself, before you could even process what was happening, his lips were on yours.

The kiss was gentle, and slow, like neither of you wanted to let go. For a moment, it felt like everything had shifted, like time had paused and all that mattered was the contact, the connection, the warmth of his mouth against yours.

But as quickly as it started, it was over. The distance between you two was almost immediate, both of you pulling away with wide eyes and labored breaths.

You both sat there, frozen, the weight of what had just happened sinking in like a heavy stone.

“Oh my God,” you muttered, your chest tight as your heart raced, “That... that was a mistake.”

Rafe’s face was flushed, his hands running through his hair nervously. He looked just as stunned as you felt. “Yeah. A big mistake,” he muttered under his breath, his voice laced with something like disbelief.

The air around you both thickened, heavy with the tension of what had just happened. Neither of you knew how to fix it, how to go back to the way things had been just minutes before, when everything felt... simple. When you both were just two people trying to figure things out.

“I—” You cut yourself off, unable to find the words. You didn’t know what you were supposed to say, what you were supposed to feel. The kiss had been... unexpected, yet somehow, it had felt too natural to ignore.

Rafe was silent for a long moment, his eyes locked on his hands, his voice quiet when he finally spoke. “We can’t—this can’t happen again, [Y/N].” His words were final, but there was something underneath them—a hesitation, like he wasn’t entirely sure that was what he wanted to say. “I mean, we’re... we’re doing this for Willa, right? We can’t let this mess things up.”

You nodded, swallowing hard. “Yeah. You’re right.” But as you said the words, you felt a strange tug in your chest—something that didn’t align with the logic of what you knew was right. You didn’t know what to do with that feeling, how to even begin to unpack it.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. You and Rafe were guardians to Willa. That was it. It had to be that way. This... this wasn’t supposed to complicate things.

But the air between you both remained heavy. Every word that followed felt like an attempt to fill the silence, to erase the awkwardness, but nothing worked.

You sighed, your hands pressing against your eyes. “This is just so messed up. We’ve already got enough going on, and now...” you trailed off, unsure of what to even say next. You felt disoriented, your emotions tangled.

Rafe glanced over at you, his expression shifting from shock to something softer. “I don’t know what to say either. But... we need to focus on Willa. We’re doing this for her. That’s all that matters.”

You nodded again, trying to pull yourself together, but the air between you two was thick, and no amount of words could erase the kiss, the connection that had flickered between you both.

And in the quiet that followed, you realized something: things were already complicated. Whether you admitted it or not, the line between what was necessary and what felt right was already blurred. And neither of you knew how to unblur it.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

The days dragged on, each one more awkward than the last. After the kiss, Rafe had retreated into himself, throwing up walls so high you could barely see over them. He was colder now—shorter with his words, sharper with his tone. The rare moments of understanding and teamwork you’d managed to build in the past months seemed to vanish overnight.

It was suffocating.

You found yourself juggling too much at once: your shifts at the café, the endless demands of parenting, and now, the tension that lingered between you and Rafe like a storm cloud. You couldn’t escape it. Every glance, every clipped response from him was a reminder of the kiss—a reminder of how things had gone wrong and how neither of you knew how to fix it.

Willa was your only reprieve. Despite the chaos, she was growing brighter by the day. Her giggles were your anchor, her tiny hands reaching for yours a reminder of why you were enduring this storm. But even she wasn’t enough to distract you from the weight of everything else.

“Rafe, can you grab her bottle from the kitchen?” you called one afternoon, cradling Willa in your arms as she fussed.

He didn’t look up from his phone. “You’ve got two legs, don’t you?” he muttered, the words slicing through the air.

You froze, biting back the sting of his tone. “I’m holding her, Rafe,” you said as evenly as you could manage.

With an exaggerated sigh, he got up and stomped into the kitchen. The bottle landed on the coffee table a moment later, the sound of it hitting the wood sharper than it needed to be.

“Thanks,” you said, though your gratitude felt hollow. He didn’t respond, disappearing into his office without another word.

This was how it was now—barbed comments, cold silences, and the ever-present feeling that you were walking on eggshells.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

One evening, after another particularly tense exchange, you sat on the edge of your bed, the weight of everything pressing down on you. The exhaustion was bone-deep. You felt like you were failing on all fronts—your job, your relationship with Rafe (if you could even call it that), and even Willa.

You couldn’t help but wonder how much longer this could go on. How long you could juggle everything without dropping one of the pieces.

But before you could dwell on it too long, there was a knock at the door.

Rafe stood there, his face unreadable. For a moment, you thought maybe he was going to apologize, maybe he was going to acknowledge how hard this had been for both of you.

Instead, he said, “We need to talk.”

You braced yourself. “About?”

His eyes flickered with something you couldn’t place—nervousness, maybe, or anger. “Ward.”

Your stomach dropped. “What about him?”

Rafe stepped into the room, his posture tense. “He’s... he’s trying to get custody of Willa.”

The words hit you like a punch to the gut.

“What?” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

“He’s claiming we’re unfit,” Rafe said, his jaw tightening. “Says we don’t have the resources, that we’re too young. He’s filing a petition.”

Your heart raced as you tried to process the information. Ward Cameron, the man who had emotionally scarred his children, who had driven a wedge into their family with his manipulations, was trying to take Willa away?

“He can’t—he can’t do this,” you said, your voice shaking with anger. “He’s not fit to take care of her! What about everything he did to you? To Sarah?”

Rafe’s expression hardened, a mixture of fear and fury flashing across his face. “None of that matters to him. He doesn’t care about her—he just wants control.”

The room felt smaller, the air heavier. You couldn’t lose Willa. Not to Ward. Not after everything you’d fought for, everything Sarah and John B. had wanted for her.

“What do we do?” you asked, your voice cracking.

Rafe looked at you, and for the first time in weeks, the coldness in his eyes melted away, replaced by something raw and real. “We fight him,” he said firmly. “We don’t let him win.”

But as he said the words, the doubt in his voice betrayed him. Because deep down, you both knew that Ward Cameron wasn’t a man who fought fair. And the thought of what he might do to get his way sent a chill down your spine.

The battle for Willa had just begun, and it was about to shake everything you thought you knew.

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #outer banks #outer banks x reader #obx #obx x reader #drew starkey #drew starkey x reader #rafe cameron obx #rafe cameron request #rafe cameron season 4 #drew starkey fanfiction #lifeasweknowit

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kisses4reid · 13 hours ago

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scare | ·˚ ༘ spencer reid ,, (part 1)

synopsis - you’re in a relationship with some one else and have a pregnancy scare, both your own reaction and spencer’s makes you realise that you’re not happy.

genre - bau!reader x spencer, friends to lovers, multi-part, pregnancy scare, reader has sort of a douche bf, one sided love (at first), angst and fluff

warnings - pregnancy talk, mentions of sex, unhealthy relationships, stress, sickness

w/c - 1.4k?? take a guess cause that’s mine.

a/n - i’ve got 9 weeks free. yeah, i have a job. and yeah, i have about 6 other hobbies i enjoy. but am i gonna make promises i can’t keep about writing more?? yeah. i am. here, enjoy. (pls lemme know abt mistakes it’s rlly late at night rn.)

The plane whirrs, small chatter from Morgan and who you assumed to be Penelope over the phone humming along with the music you try to distract yourself with. It isn’t working.

Because every song has its own special and quirky musical instrument that happens to sound like a message notification. And you keep getting your hopes up.

Your left leg started to bounce, your fingernails found their way to your anxious teeth. And Spencer noticed.

He noticed about halfway through the case, when you stopped talking as much, started drinking an influx of water, started discreetly taking pain medication. At first, he thought it was a simple stomach bug, and he knew your stomach didn’t agree with a lot of travel. But then you started getting nervous.

Spencer glanced at you a few times before moving, sitting next to you (attempting to be discreet). He can’t be discreet though, because every time he’s around you, his body does this weird thing where it can’t decide whether it should be instantly calm or instantly more nervous. Your presence stopped his fidgeting hands, his tired thoughts. But god, when he looked at you, it’s like his heart wants to see you for itself.

And right now his heart hurt, why were you scared?

You barely noticed Spencer sit down, usually you would, but your phone was annoyingly blank, silent. You turned it off and on three times, and re-entered the plane’s wifi password five times.

And now your stomach was grumbling, and not in the way that those nice small sandwiches can help out with.

“Are you okay?”

You jumped, taking your earphones out and staring at Spencer surprised. You laughed nervously, quietly, “Spencer! Sorry. Yeah, I’m fine.”

His warm eyes searched yours and for a second you could ignore the tight feeling in your chest. It made you think back around 8 months ago, when Penelope, your childhood best friend and now co-worker, created a pros and cons list for both Lloyd, and… Spencer.

It was unprofessional and inappropriate, especially when you decided to listen because you had nothing better to do. And especially when she started making some good points.

He squinted his eyes, and you sighed.

“Sorry, I’m just a bit antsy. Feeling a bit… off.”

You felt sick, and stressed, and like your thoughts were going to be the cause of your death. Because you’ve never been sick like this. And to your overworked brain, it only meant one thing.

Spencer’s a great profiler. And although the team collectively agreed to not profile each other, it becomes hard for Spencer when the girl he’s in love with is so obviously in distress. Even worse when he can’t be the hero.

“I can leave you to sleep if you want.” He says, getting up to leave.

“Oh, no. That’s okay. Honestly, I think sleeping would just make it worse.”

Ah, right. Travel sickness, Spencer thought. He gaps his mouth slightly and nods. He relaxes into the couch and looks over to you, heart picking up slightly as pieces of hair fell from your loose ponytail.

You looked over to the table he was previously sat at, the book you gifted him last Christmas open and nearly finished. You smiled to yourself, but it was bittersweet.

“You’re actually reading it?” You asked, looking back at him with slight surprise.

“Of course. I’ve read it 6 times already, it’s a great pallet cleanser- Just like you said in that Christmas card!” He smiled childishly, like he was recalling the first snow.

“I know right! It’s so simple but interesting, I mean I’ve only read it three times but to me I always found it to clear my head.”

Spencer angled himself towards you, “Did you know that the author actually interviewed his daughter’s teachers to see what ages teachers were more invested in compared to class sizes? He said in an interview that depending on a students intelligence, there’s an underlying emotional connection made between student and teacher,” he took a breath, “It plays into the intelligence to ego ratio that so many people claim isn’t true. Which I’m not trying to say you have a big ego, or that I do-“

You waved you hands, “Woah, woah. Why would I think you’re talking about me?”

He furrowed his eyebrows, “Well, you’re very intelligent.”

“Oh!… Thanks for thinking I’m intelligent, or smart.” You shrugged, “But I think you insulted yourself. You don’t have a 187 IQ for nothing do you?”

“You remembered my IQ?” He laughed nervously. His smile warms your chest like a candle. Like that candle he got you randomly in April, after you mentioned your favourite one being used up by your boyfriend.

Your boyfriend. Ugh.

You smile falters for only a second, “Of course. You only mention it to every person that second guesses you.”

He nods and smiles, “Must be my ego.”

You laugh, subconsciously bumping your shoulder with his. But- Jesus. Your stomach is queasy.

“Hey, uh, do you want some travel sickness pills?” He reached over for his satchel but you grab his forearm and smile as convincingly as you can.

“No, no. We’re landing soon, but thank you.”

You’re overreacting.

That’s what he said. When you texted your boyfriend of a year and a half that you thought you were pregnant he said, You’re overreacting. Two words, two hours after your first text, on his day off.

Maybe you are. You started feeling sick on a slightly more gory case, it’s lasted ever since the case started, you get travel sick as well.

The headaches are from the computer screen and stress. The stress is from fatigue. The fatigue is because of the lack of sleep. The lack of sleep is because of the headaches.

Why do you always do this? Always thinking that there’s something wrong with you. Always being the biggest person in your own life, selfish.

But… what if?

There’s a sudden squeak from behind you, and you instantly snapped out of it. You took a deep breath and looked at your surroundings. You were at your desk, standing, the strap of your bag clutched in your hands - god, your knuckles were white. Your eyes darted in surprise and confusion, and you jumped once again when Spencer spoke into the silence.

“You okay?”

“Um…”

You didn’t look back at him, only looking down at your shoes and taking a deep breath. You plastered on a smile despite the bile collecting in your throat.

“Yeah! Yeah, I’m fine. I’ve gonna go, the bus leaves at um…”

You took out your phone. He didn’t even respond to your text asking him to pick you up.

“I’ll drive you home. But uh, I gotta pick up some groceries. I hope you don’t mind.”

He curved to your desk and gently took your bag from your hands, glancing at the way you traced your knuckles and how the leather strap now had slight wrinkles in it. He smiled, warmly. And he started walking like you rejecting the idea wasn’t an option.

Which is wasn’t, because he knew you too well.

“Well, a cucumber actually has 3% more water than watermelon. So if you really want a refreshing snack, cucumber is your man.”

You smiled and raised your eyebrows in interest. He’s had many vegetables and fruits in the basket, not a lot of protein. Explained a lot.

My man, you thought with a smile.

My man, you shivered.

“I don’t like cucumbers.” You said like it was distraction, and he nodded, picking up some kewpie mayo as he you around to the next aisle. He glanced at you,

“I know. You say it’s tasteless. I like it.” He shrugged.

“I know.” You smiled, and he smiles back.

God, you wish you could bask in it, the warmth. But your chest was still tingly, and your heart hadn’t stopped aching ever since you got excited about an email notification.

“Hey, are you sure you’re okay? I noticed you’ve been tense for like… a week.” He grabbed some pasta sauce and put his hand on your shoulder to turn you around - you obviously looked too far into your own head.

“Yeah, just feeling-“

“Y/n.” He turned to you, stopping your venture into the dairy aisle. His eyes were hard, worried. The fluorescent lights swayed slightly. A worker walked by the end of the aisle with a trolley full of food.

“Sorry.”

“Don’t,” he lifted one arm, wanting to rest his hand on your upper arm, to help you, “Don’t say sorry. Just tell me what’s going on.”

“I have been feeling sick. That’s true. And I’ve been stressed and, thinking a lot. A lot.”

It felt weird to nearly tell Spencer about your relationship problems. It was like complaining to a doctor about healing crystals. It was like a slap in the face. Maybe that’s why you never did tell him about it, because it was facing your fears.

It was the pros and cons list made by Penelope.

But I’m overreacting.

“It’s nothing.”

Spencer sighed. You had that habit, of nearly opening up, and then shutting the door just as he was about to walk in.

You heard his sigh.

“Okay. I gave Lloyd my car because he has the day off, and he likes going to his friends houses on his days off. And, I told him something that should probably freak him out. But he doesn’t really care. I don’t think he really cares, about anything. At least about me.”

You started walking, because holy shit you’ve never said that out loud before, and Spencer followed you,

“Y/n, if you want to tell me something-“

“I think I’m pregnant.” You stopped, and started picking at your fingers, acting as if it was admitting to not knowing your left and rights, or that you don’t really like coconut.

His eyes widen, and his heart drops. It was like his worst nightmare coming true- jesus, how could he even think about himself right now? The girl he loved felt trapped with a man she thought might be the father of her baby.

Spencer gulped, “Oh.”

“Yeah, oh.”

You looked at each other, scared, you more than him. And then you cringed,

“God, I’m sorry Spencer. I shouldn’t have said anything-“

“No- Y/n, it’s fine. I’m glad you told me-“

“I haven’t even, like, taken a test yet-“

“Wait so-”

You spun on your heel and looked at him exasperated.

“So… let’s go get some tests.” He said (he hopes) calmly. He was really trying, to pretend to be calm and collected. That’s what you needed, a clear head to replace yours.

He paid for everything, even the 5 pregnancy tests and the over sized lollipop you put in the basket to ease your nerves later on.

The moon was high, you were about three hours late to get home now, and your head was attacking itself with rambles and aches and honestly, you were sick of it.

You shivered, huddling in your jacket and drawing only slightly closer to Spencer. His silence was like a hook, drawing you in closer and higher and taking every word you had been thinking that day to the tip of your tongue.

You looked up to him. His hair fell into his eyes, the breeze reddening his cheeks slightly.

It’s Spencer. You’ve known him for nearly 6 years, but it feels like you’ve known each other for ever. You know everything about him, and he knows everything about you. Well, not everything. He doesn’t know how you feel in your own apartment, how every anniversary had been forgotten even when it was the ‘1 year’ mark, how you felt like you were raising an over grown child who could drink.

He knows you’re strong, but admitting all that? I’d look weak.

You have looked weak in front of Spencer. He stayed overnight in your hospital room, he held you when you watched a little girl die, he wiped your tears when you watched a sad short film during your break.

You couldn’t hide anything from him.

“I don’t think I’m pregnant- Well, I mean I might be, but there’s a very low chance,” You started, Spencer’s jaw clenched for a millisecond, “I’ve just been feeling sick and… it could be because of stress from work, or just general stress- like, I don’t know.”

Spencer moved the grocery bag to his other hand.

“Kids are great, don’t get me wrong. Some people don’t get the chance to have kids. I mean…” You gulped, and Spencer finally looked down at you. But now, all you could do was stare at the car park’s concrete floor. Speaking out loud was like clearing your brain, the fog was lifting. “Lloyd doesn’t want kids. I do, at least in the future, not right now. I just hope it’s not with-“ You cut yourself off, and slow down a bit. Spencer matches your pace.

I just hope it’s not with him.

He gulps, and clears his throat, looking down at you with understanding eyes, “With everything that’s going on.”

“Yeah… yeah. You know, my job, my…” It’s no use lying to Spencer. He knows. He’s known, for a long time.

Your chest was tight, and you made eye contact with the pregnancy tests lying on top of Spencer’s groceries. The thought of going home, rushing to the bathroom, avoiding your boyfriend who was already waiting angry, made your throat close up. Because only now, when you were three hours late from work and ignoring his one attempt at a phone call, Lloyd texted, ‘I think you need to calm down.’ It was a bare minimum, and finally Spencer could see you realizing it.

No, ‘Wre you okay?’, ‘What’s making you think this?’ ‘Where are you?’

No. He was making you out to be the crazy one, the one to be over thinking, over bearing, too much.

You were confused. To put it blankly. And scared. And questioning your life decisions. And honestly you just wanted to curl up in a ball and to have Spencer make you bad cucumber salad at his warm apartment.

You looked up to Spencer but he was already looking down at you, reaching for his keys and nodding, “You can come to mine, it’ll be okay.”

taglist (open) - @jeffswh0re @reap3erslov3 @candyd1es @0108s22m @aurorsworld @theoraekenslover @c-losur3 @littlelearningbrat @khxna @laurakirsten0502 @cultish-corner

#criminal minds #spencer reid #cm #criminal minds imagine #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid oneshot #criminal minds fluff #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid angst #criminal minds angst #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fanfic

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remiratboi · 2 days ago

Text

Death - Part 1

Masterlist

Death Personified M X Human GN Fat Reader

CW: Pet death, grief, death (obvi?), masturbation, monsterfucking, yandere if you squint, not sure what else yet, will add as I go.

Death wasn’t a single entity. It was more of a group. A way of being. There were hundreds holding the name “Death”. He didn’t know any others though. They didn’t interact. It was a solitary life. Flitting from life to life, helping souls move on. He held a rudimentary understanding of why the creatures around the souls would mourn, but it was a beautiful thing to him. He lived in an in-between realm. Not quite dead, not quite alive. Very few could see him, and most only could shortly before they themselves moved on.

This was why he was in their home. It was dark. He knew they were around. He had been checking up on the cat who lived with them for a couple days now. She was close to death.

He stood next to the couch she was curled up on. He preferred to take creatures gently. He was not malicious. He chose the souls who were ready to move on. The cat looked up at him with one eye, not bothering to move her head. She was frail. He could see her vision wasn’t strong. He mewled at her and she stretched her paw out towards him.

Death leaned down to press his finger into her paw when a voice snapped him out of his focus.

“Please don’t.” It was shaky and sorrow filled. Death turned around to see you. You stood in the door frame, illuminated by the light behind. Your face was covered in tears. You could see him? He hadn’t felt any connection that would signal your ability to see beings like him. And he knew you weren’t close to death. How could you see him?

He stared longer than he should, dumbfounded and with no idea how to respond. You sniffled and continued. “Please, just wait until tomorrow. I understand, it’s…. She’s old. But can I please have one last night with her?” You begged.

He took advantage of the out, and rather than trying to respond, he swiftly ran away. He didn’t go far though. He had been rattled, and he didn’t like it. He spent his eternity alone. Only dying and dark could see him. He avoided the dark, and the dying never saw him for long. But you were neither? You frustrated and intrigued him. He would never admit that the way your plush body had looked, and the way your skimpy pjs clung tightly to your form had also intrigued him.

It wasn’t unheard of for his kind to get involved with humans, or each other. But it was forbidden. And dangerous. That much power with something so frail had resulted in more often than not, a soul ripped from their body before their time.

Death’s touch wasn’t always an execution. He could control the touch. But it was difficult and took immense focus. Something others had learned too late, that they were worse at than they had thought.

He sat now, on your porch railing, gazing through the rain that fell in the night sky. He watched you through your windows. He never realised you could probably see him. He was so used to passing through unknown that he didn’t even consider it.

You made a fancy chicken dinner for your pet, he assumed her favourite. You curled up on that same couch with her and hand fed her. You cried. A lot. He wondered what it felt like to mourn. He wondered what it felt like to love enough to mourn. He wasn’t supposed to give creatures more time, but he hadn’t been able to look you in the eyes and take something you clearly loved so much.

You cried yourself to sleep sometime in the night. He floated through the wall and stopped in front of your pair of sleeping forms. You looked beautiful. Your face was no longer tensed by emotion and he could see the freckles that covered your nose. Soft eyelashes fluttered against your apple cheeks.

He reached down to touch them, before catching himself. What was he doing? You were human. You weren’t for him. Also, he was about to kill your cat. He thought you probably wouldn’t appreciate waking up to have death touching your face before taking something you loved so deeply, away from you.

But he didn’t move his hand from where it was. Stretched out in front of him, inches away from your face. He was shocked by his own desire. Had he ever felt desire before? He didn’t think so. You were just so soft. You looked so safe and comfortable. He imagined running his fingers down your curves, feeling every inch of you.

The sun started shining through the windows and he realized he’d been standing there for far too long. You might wake up soon.

He turned from you, eyes dragging. He looked down at your sleeping cat. He felt bad. There was another new emotion. He knew it was better, and that her soul would continue on in peace. But he also knew you loved her. For some reason, he didn’t want to be the cause of your pain.

He steadied himself and shook his head. This was what he had to do. This was what he was made to do. It was his only purpose. He leaned down and placed a gentle kiss on your pet’s head, her exhale as he did, her last.

He watched her soul coalesce above her body and then dissipate. He had seen it hundreds, maybe thousands of times. It was beautiful every time.

He looked back down to you and took an instinctual step back as he realised your eyes were open. You looked up at him with a teary gaze.

“Th… thank you.” You said. His throat felt thick. You were thanking him? “Thank you for letting me say goodbye.” You finished. You curled your body around your pet and sobbed into her fur. He felt like he was intruding.

He started to turn away but hesitated. He looked back down at you. His chest hurt. He reached out a shaky hand and lingered above you again. He fought with himself. He should leave. He’d been here too long already.

But he couldn’t help himself.

He reached down, and so gently you could have mistaken it for wind had there been any, he brushed your hair from your face.

And then he was gone.

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meanbossart · 2 days ago

Note

im so curious-- how well does DUDrow get on with the other companions? I've only seen your art and going off that I feel like: he gets along with Shadowheart, Gale I think he borderline cant stand, and Wyll/Lae'zel/Karlach I have no idea how he'd feel about them but id love to know!

So, funfact, because I was not familiar with these kinds of games at the time I played BG3, I practically stuck with the same exact party the entire playthrough. I distinctly remember swapping Wyll in for Astarion once at the end of act 2 because I thought he NEEDED to be there to find Mizora, and I replaced Gale with Karlach when I went to kill Gortash. Otherwise... It was pretty much always just DU drow, Shadowheart, Astarion and Gale. I did this because they were the characters I liked most, so I wanted to see all they had to offer.

Anyways, I mention this because it reflects how DU drow related to everyone - which is to say that he didn't. He picked his favorites (two because he liked them, one because he has fireball) and didn't get particularly close to anyone else.

BUT, there were definitely notable dynamics!

Lae'zel: She's dead. He killed her night 3 or something. Before that he thought her annoyingly demanding and over the top. I don't think DU drow even remembers her by the end of the game.

Gale: Just to add to your original observation, Gale and DU drow have a little bit of history. Gale tries, for about half of the campaign, to pursue him romantically. DU drow keeps turning him down and is either misinterpreted or ignored, and by the time Gale does give up on him their relationship has completely soured to the point where they are constantly shooting daggers at each other. (this reflects a romance bug I got in my first run, except I didn't realize it was a bug. Either way I think its more interesting storytelling than the intended experience.)

Wyll: DU drow was profoundly frustrated by Wyll every step of the way. He found him to be incredibly naive and a bit delusional in his pursuit for heroism, and could never relate to Wyll's perspective or choices - the few he made for himself, at least. They definitely had the least in common and DU drow avoided interacting with him most of the time.

Halsin: He didn't care for Halsin much. He was vaguely helpful but by the time they got to the shadow-cursed lands DU drow had the impression he'd only been dragged here to help him clear his conscience, which he didn't appreciate. Also, he couldn't bear to have someone in camp be taller than himself. Halsin was left behind in Act 2.

Jaheira: DU drow fucking loves Jaheira. They bickered and borderline insulted each other and had a great time doing it. He can respect anyone who will call him a monster, threaten to murder him in his sleep, and make light fun at him the next day. It helps that she's hot, also.

Minsc: Weird hamster man. Ocasionally rendered him speechless. Puzzling human being.

Karlach: He didn't get Karlach, but he was often amused by her and curious enough to want to hear what she had to say. There was a similar issue here as Wyll's where he just couldn't relate to her enough to have much to discuss, but Karlach at least had an edge to her that made her far better company. They got along pretty well when the topic wasn't serious, but when it came to the problems she actually faced their perspectives shifted significantly. DU drow thought everything could be fixed, that accepting her own demise was a cowardly thing to do - and as they approached the end, and she asked him if he would stay with her when she died, he thought she was weak. I don't know if he ever discusses it with anyone, but he feels guilty about her death to this day and sees it as personal failure.

#ask #du drow lore #gale dekarios #karlach #wyll ravengard #lae'zel #jaheira #halsin

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dietcokegirly12 · 3 days ago

Note

im sorry to bother you but I love your writing sm... could you do a nikolai one or a threesome with fyolai

“Pent-Up”

featuring fyodor doestovsky and nikolai gogol ִ ࣪𖤐

.˚₊‧ ─── ⋆｡‧˚ʚ🎪ɞ˚‧｡⋆ ─── ‧₊˚. ─── ⋆｡‧˚ʚ🎪ɞ˚‧

art credits: pinterest ˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

.˚₊‧ ─── ⋆｡‧˚ʚ🎪ɞ˚‧｡⋆ ─── ‧₊˚. ─── ⋆｡‧˚ʚ🎪ɞ˚‧

a/n note: thank you anon for this req omg, i had so much fun with it (♡ˊ͈ ꒳ ˋ͈) also dw i'm gonna release an only nikolai fic laterrr!

keep in mind, reader replaces dazai in the prison arc (っˆڡˆς)

tags: threesome, cowgirl double penetration, mutual masturbation, anal, unprotected sex, teasing, slight degrading, squirting, humping(?), mention of death, mention of oral (fem) at the end, etc etc

word count: 2.5k

🂱🂳🂶 ── ⋅ 🂱🂳🂶 ── ⋅ 🂱🂳🂶 ── ⋅ 🂱🂳🂶 ── ⋅ 🂱

who knew being trapped in the most secure prison to ever exist could leave you so pent-up?

it had been eight months since you had last seen the light of day, and eight months since you had been touched by anyone but yourself.

and it was getting unbearable.

the only solace you had was the man in the cell across from yours, fyodor doestovsky.

as a former member of the port mafia, and a current member of the detective agency with a long list of crimes to your name, in all the commotion, you had been arrested by the hunting dogs and placed in the secure space across from his.

and as the days turned to weeks, and eventually you lost all track of time and what was happening in the outside world, he proved the only one you found comfort in.

through thick and thin, and no matter what, he was always there.

which obviously, he couldn't leave, but just the fact he would entertain you when the days seemed to blend together, and always would comfort you when you had one of your inevitable panic attacks from spending too long in confinement, meant the world.

and of course, being enclosed as you were, always in clear sight of the other, he really was always there.

whether it be when you were eating, or sleeping, or changing, or even.. masturbating.

and truly, when it happened, you hadn't meant for him to see, or even hear you. but you should've known you couldn't hide anything from a man with fyodor's capabilities.

it had been eight miserable months in the prison cell, and you were desperately craving physical touch. you practically ached for intimacy. so... you took matters into your own hands.

with a hand between your plush thighs, panties halfway to the side, and your back arched upward from your front-facing bed, you were doing something incredibly risky but you couldn't bring yourself to care, too lost in the haze of pleasure you were giving yourself.

"mmph.. hah.. f-feels so good," you moaned, picturing it was someone else's fingers toying with your clit languidly. someone else who was right in the cell across yours.

picking up speed in your rubbing, you squeeze your legs together, eliciting a small whimper as you feel yourself getting closer.

and just as you think you're going to be able to push yourself over the edge, and relieve all the tension that's been plaguing you for the past few weeks... nothing.

with a small frustrated groan, you turn over, pulling your fingers out in defeat.

now you were right back where you started, still incredibly horny, only with the addition of now being wet and throbbing, unable to finish on your own.

"need some help over there, myshka?"

you gasp, bolting upright and in the process, let the blanket fall off your body to reveal your bare breasts, and lower stomach.

“shit!”

fyodor simply watches with an amused look as you rush to cover yourself, quickly pulling your covers up to your chin.

“no need to be shy now, darling.”

“fedyaaa..” you whine out, cheeks tinted pink. “y’weren’t s’posed to see that.”

he smirks at that. “oh? then who was?”

you flush, turning away to drape the blankets over yourself, hot all over with embarrassment.

a few seconds later however, the quiet sounds of squelching fill the air, and confused you turn around, unsure what he’s doing.

nothing can prepare you for the sight that awaits you however.

fyodor’s pale hand wrapped tightly around his narrow cock, pumping up and down slowly as his eyes lock on yours, a coy smile curling the corners of his lips upward.

the first thought you have is that he’s long. longer than you’d be able to take, you bet, not that there was much likelihood of that trapped in confinement.

as you ogle at him with wide eyes, mouth agape, he purposefully lets out a drawn-out moan, his head tilting back in pleasure.

before you can stop yourself, you find your hand disappearing back between your thighs, desperately rubbing to get yourself off from the sight of him.

his eyes are closed, but his mouth tilts up, like he can sense what you're doing.

your cunt flutters at the sight of him so exposed like you'd never seen him, and you feel more arousal seeping out of you.

speeding up, you circle a finger around your sopping entrance before plunging in and out, sloppily lewd sounds ensuing.

reaching one hand up, you squeeze your breasts, panting softly as you imagine that it's fyodor's hands doing it rather than yours.

your stomach curls up into tight little knots, and your breathing heaves as you feel yourself finally drawing closer to tipping over the edge.

"say something to me fedya. please?"

he chuckles softly, voice slightly breathier than usual as he whispers out, "fucking filthy girl. jerking off to me while you think i'm asleep, hoping i wouldn't notice, hm?"

and it's then that you can't hold back anymore, soft cries of his name leaving you as you twitch and shudder, drenching your hand and thighs in your slick.

and you can't see it, but you know fyodor finishes close behind as soft, guttural groans leave his throat before he lapses back into silence, broken only by the sound of your combined soft breaths.

you had been facing up at the ceiling for most of it, and as you turn over to your side to face fyodor, you see he's already on his side, looking at you.

"as soon as we get out of here, myshka, i'm going to fuck you senseless."

your heart rate increases as you stare at him, lips slightly parted.

"these eight months of confinement so close, yet so far from you have been torture. i don't care who, or what is around us, i'm going to take you and finally make you mine."

you blush, already feeling needy between your legs again just from his words. "as soon as we get out.." you agree.

.˚₊‧˗ ─── 🗝⟢ ₊˚ ꗃ ─── ˗‧₊˚. ─── 🗝⟢ ₊˚ ꗃ

the next morning, you're awoken by loud shouting.

immediately sitting upright, you look over to fyodor's cell, but he's gone.

"hey!" you swing your feet over the side of the bed and are just about to stand up when suddenly the floor drops from under you, and you fall straight through.

you land with a harsh thump! on the hard floor in a foreign area, a tall man wearing striped pants and a white braid leering down at you. "so, you're the one who captured fyodor's heart while he was captured?" he laughs at his own joke before extending a hand to you, a sly grin on his face, one scarred eye shamelessly checking you out.

fyodor stands beside him, rolling his eyes at his companion, still dressed in his white prison uniform with his hands folded across his chest impatiently.

around them were several mangled bodies piled up, guards you assumed.

it was obvious this had been planned. they had clearly been in communication. and yet... what was it that fyodor had said last night? that it didn't matter who or what was around, he was going to take you as his anyway...?

you're startled out of your thoughts at the feeling of cold hands snaking around your waist, bringing you face-to-face with the man you had longed for in confinement for so long.

and now here he was.

touching you.

after being deprived of him for so long, you could care less whether his friend was there to watch or not, and without hesitance you throw your arms over his shoulders and smash your lips onto his, tilting your head to deepen the kiss.

his mouth is cool on yours, and tastes faintly of something heavy and intoxicating, the slightly musky flavor invading your senses until you were practically drowning in it.

with one finger, he tilts your chin upward, and places light kisses down your jaw, tongue darting out occasionally to taste your skin, making you groan in pleasure at the feeling.

and it's then that you feel the warmth of someone pressing into you from behind, and two arms wrapping around your waist.

you gasp softly, trying to move away and unintentionally backing your ass up further into the man behind you, causing him to let out a soft groan.

fyodor chuckles, pulling away to cup your face gently. "it's okay. he won't bite."

swallowing, you stare up at fyodor questioningly.

but before he can answer, the one behind you leans forward, breath tickling your ear. "name's nikolai. but you can call me kolya, little dove."

"i've been telling him about you, my cellmate, for a while now after finding a way to communicate to the outside world, and he agreed to break us out of here on one condition..."

suddenly, nikolai's hands which had been resting at your front begin to slide up your body as fyodor speaks, large palms coming to cup your breasts through your shirt, causing a small involuntary whine to slip out of you, slightly grinding your ass back against him.

"...he gets to fuck you too."

heat pools low in your tummy and you desperately nod in agreement, eager to feel both of their hands on you, giddy with the promise of finally being touched. "please."

nikolai laughs from behind you, hands squeezing tighter around your tits. "seems she doesn't mind having us both, greedy girl."

you whimper softly, leaning back on nikolai as you guide fyodor's hands to between your legs needily, not willing to waste another second.

"someone's eager." fyodor teases, lightly brushing his long fingers along your inner thighs, achingly close to where heat radiates from between them.

however, for all his taunting, he's not faring much better than you, his pants tented from the impressive bulge straining against them.

"someone's eager.." you mock back, one hand reaching out to splay across his painfully hard cock.

with a hiss, hips bucking into your touch, his eyes turn feral, voice dropping dangerously low. "take off your pants. now."

as you quickly obey, nikolai's hands slide down to help you, leisurely pulling them down past your hips until you're in nothing but your panties sandwiched in between them.

quickly, they shift you so you're straddling fyodor's chest, with nikolai behind.

"think you can take us both, dove? i don't want to wait any longer." nikolai purrs out, eye glinting.

as you nod in affirmation, they instantly begin to move as one, fyodor spreading open your thighs as nikolai's hands come to your hips, rutting against your ass slightly.

desperate to feel you for the first time, fyodor's already pulling down his pants to reveal his cock, flushed a pale pink and dripping with pre-cum. it's so long it reaches halfway up his stomach and is even prettier up close.

before you even get the chance to marvel at him, however, he's already lining himself up and pushing in. "myshka, you have no idea how long i've dreamt of having you like this."

all you can do is grip tightly onto his shoulders, soft gasps leaving you at the stretch of him pushing deep inside you.

his cock has a mean curve to it, one that has you dizzy as it reaches all the way to brushing your cervix, without even moving.

there's shuffling behind you as nikolai undresses, and before you can even adjust to having fyodor's cock nestled into your snug walls, his tip is prodding insistently at your hole.

expertly, he reaches one nimble hand to your front, toying with your pulsing clit languidly, and completely covering his hand in your slick before pumping his cock with it a few times as lube.

and where fyodor was impressively long... nikolai was impressively thick.

obscenely so.

his shaft was girthy, and lined with thumping veins and ridges, precum pearling at the slit tantalizingly.

and if you thought you were full before...

the second even an inch of his heavy cock started to push its way inside you, his hands holding your hips steady from behind, you swear you're seeing stars.

"fuck! s'too much! i-it's not all g-gonna fit!" you cry out desperately, squirming in fyodor's grasp as nikolai grunts from behind.

"yes it is.. take it. take it all like a good little slut." fyodor's fingers come to rub circles over your clit to get you to loosen up more for them, accented voice smooth as velvet.

"kolya! y'er so.. so big!" you gasp as he giggles slightly from behind, pushing you forward onto fyodor enough to lift your ass higher.

"hm, is that so? that's not even all of it yet.." and with that, he pulls back before snapping his hips into you, bullying the rest of his thick cock into you in one harsh thrust.

you squeal, falling forward onto fyodor who simply hums, before starting an absolutely brutal pace, meant to completely ravage your poor pussy.

nikolai also begins to thrust into you from behind, barely even giving you time to adjust to his sheer size before you're ping-ponging back and forth between the two, the filthy sounds of skin against skin filling the air.

with the force of their thrusts, your breasts are jiggling, and eagerly fyodor takes one nipple into his mouth, sucking gently, tongue laving tantalizingly around the hardened bud.

you moan, arching up as you quickly tangle your fingers into his dark hair, nikolai groaning behind you.

you know you're not going to last long, not with the way you've been dreaming of this for months, so in an effort to not cum too early, you try to crawl upward and away from their drilling cocks, but nikolai is having none of that, quickly pulling you back to sink even more of him inside you, a small tsk tsk leaving him.

"where you going, little dove?"

you whimper softly in reply, eyes shutting tightly as you try to fight the wave of oncoming pleasure threatening to crash over you. "kolya... fedya.. hmph c-can't.. m'gonna!"

and before you even realize what's happening, your body convulses as with a shudder, you squirt, gushing your release out all over the two, as wave after wave of blinding white pleasure hits you, leaving you a dripping, soaked, mewling mess when you're finally done, panting for breath.

"бля! какая у тебя грязная пизда!" ("Fuck! Such a filthy pussy you have!")

fyodor's words come out in frantic, slurred russian, his only warning before he's spurting load after load of creamy, white ropes into your abused cunt, some of it seeping out to puddle around you.

nikolai follows quickly, a loud throaty groan slipping out from him as more hot ribbons of cum paint your insides white, cock throbbing as he empties himself in you.

and as you all collapse into a heap of sticky, glistening bodies, your faces sweat-sheened and blissed-out, you feel someone nestling between your thighs.

looking down, you see nikolai's head pressed between your legs, eyes closed peacefully.

"kolya..." you warn, voice slightly ragged.

he smiles mischievously. "what? 'm resting!"

as you relent, settling back down, your thighs are pushed open suddenly and a hot mouth instantly latches onto your leaking cunt.

"gotta clean you up..."

and it’s then, you feel another mouth eagerly join.

tagslist (ask to be tagged!<3): @bokukenmakuroo @newnlovesjennie

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gay-dorito-dust · 2 days ago

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lmao this is my first time giving a request. Could you maybe do dick Grayson head cannons?

Most of these hdc come from my little brain that I thought fit Dick in general, it’s not based on stuff (some of them are but not all) if ppl agree or don’t agree, I couldn’t care less honestly. Also thanks for the request anon, hope you like it! 🫶

I know I write him as a little goofy goober but he tends to play up this character so that he doesn’t have to open up about anything. Is it foolproof? Not entirely and it solely depends on the person and their relationship to him,those of whom that pick up what he’s putting down, and those (you) who can easily see through this facade and know something is up.

He’s more often than not the type who will become more affectionate in private where it’s just you, him and Hayley. Dick doesn’t need anybody else other then you two, his confidants as he so playfully called you both one day, and he’s more then content then he’s ever been.

Older sibling syndrome is strong in this boy.

Foot wars are a common occurrence in your shared apartment as you push against the others foot with your own to see who’s going to be victorious, only for you to accidentally smack him in the face with your foot and the foot war becomes ten times worse, seeing as how as Dick often wins them more then you did.

He will never stop feeling guilty about Jason’s death. Never. That boy who was filled with love and life and claimed that being robin was magic was still within Jason somewhere, dick just knows this to be true, even if Jason loves to claims that that little kid was gone.

And while he’s glad that Jason is back in his life, dick couldn’t help but feel as though he could’ve done better by him at times, holding onto that guilt and shame for not being their for his brother that still killed him inside to this day whenever he saw Jason laugh and or smile at something. It hurts but Dick will never stop being in Jason’s corner, not once. If Gotham was against Jason then Dick will gladly be by Jason’s side, to show that his allegiance to his brother would outweigh a lot of things.

(I’m so normal about dick and Jason being brothers can’t you tell 🥲 leave me here and be delusional)

The same applies to Damian also, which is why your mostly acquainted with both Jason and Damian in comparison to the rest of his family because they often come over by pure coincidence, or because dick dragged them by their ears with a smile on his face.

Insists that you cling onto his legs while he does pull ups and or sit on his back while he does push ups as he lets you count.

Complains to you when he looses the nightwing look alike contest, and to Jason no less, which no one that knows him personally allows him to live down.

They (Tim and Stephanie) even make memes out of it.

Has Hayley as his Lock Screen, you as his Home Screen. Both wearing cute matching pyjamas. So when he’s on his phone people think he’s smiling at his picture of Hayley -which is true- but he’s also smiling at the picture of you also.

His family pester him about you a lot, even Bruce asks when he’s going to meet you, claiming he’s not going to get any younger should Dick hold back on introducing you to him.

Even Alfred gets in on this as well but Dick always has an excuse locked and loaded when these questions are asked, but even he knows that Bruce knows that it’s all bullshit, however he doesn’t say anything outright incase Dick didn’t feel comfortable introducing you to them yet.

Wears only boxers to sleep or boxers and a light blue shirt, it depends on what he’s feeling really.

Loves living in the moment with you as you enjoy the others company without feeling the need to fill the air with chatter, you could just both exist and still love each other regardless because Dick didn’t feel the need to talk all the time, so moments like these were what he longed for most.

Ungracefully fell on his ass in fuzzy soaks once and hurt his tailbone in the process. It was funny until he asked to you put a bag of ice on the afflicted area.

Loved narrating what you and or Hayley do in a goofy voice that never fails to make you smile.

Doesn’t open up immediately but once he does it’s a sign of trust. He admits to his flaws in past relationships and how he wasn’t the most faithful and often saw commitment as a challenge. He understands if you see that as a sign to leave the relationship, he doesn’t expect anything from you, but if you did stay then he’s more then happy to not repeat those mistakes in your relationship.

Knows that people see Bruce when they look at him, he expects it because after being with him as long as he has it was only logical that he picked up some habits along the way whether he liked it or not.

Has a big heart but claims that Jason’s heart was twice as big because he’s so full of love and believed in love.

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ceratedfish24 · 3 days ago

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People REALLY liked my Scottho post, which I thought might get maybe 17 notes if even that, so, uh, here’s a dabble based on literally one line towards the end of Etho’s 5th episode of Wild Life.

—————

“Best Decision I’ve Ever Made” -Etho

The rain lashed against the cobblestone roof above Scott’s head. For the sake of privacy and as a defense mechanism against Impulse and Cleo’s snoring, Pearl and Scott had put up cherry wood walls between the four color coordinated beds in the small base. Scott had thought about putting a window by his bed, but he figured it was best to keep his enemies from being able to see into his base in a death game. The blankets were heavy, and Scott was lying on his stomach, completely limp. His cerulean eyes drooped. Grian’s games were fun, but they were also exhausting. If he was being honest, his favorite part came after the games, when he was curling up in his bed with his cat and sleeping for hours and hours after a whole pot of pasta.

There was a knock on the door.

Scott’s shoulders had just settled into the mattress, but he shoved himself up from the bed. His chest was heaving just from pulling himself onto his knees on his bed, and he took a moment to decompress from that effort alone. Nobody else was going to answer the door. Scott is nothing if not selfless. He puts his weight onto his left hand, feeling it sink into the sheets, and swings his legs over the edge of the bed.

The teal haired man stumbled his way to the door of his room and leaned against the frame, running his hands through his bed head. If he was going to answer the door in the middle of the night, he may as well look the best he can manage to represent his team. Scott’s feet dragged themselves to the front of their base, shoulders sagging. Impulse’s snores were faint, but they were audible. Scott pulled his head up to look through the small window in the door. A black eye and a red eye looked back at him. The blue haired man shot upright.

“Etho?” Scott swung the door open towards himself. The poor man’s white hair dripped and sagged over his headband, covering it completely. Etho’s eyes were as sunken in as Scott’s, and they were almost hidden in the dark of the night. Water rushed down his skin, dappled with sun and age. The torches covering the base were like a bonfire outlining Etho’s lean frame. Scott was starting to think he had overdone it with the mob spawn-proofing.

“I know this-” Etho couldn’t finish his sentence, before Scott was dragging him inside by his dripping vest. Scott was too tired to notice how Etho’s eyes dropped to look at his lips, momentarily confused as to the blue boy’s intentions.

“What are you doing out here?” Scott slammed the door shut behind them and practically threw himself into his team’s storage. He fished out the thickest wool blankets they had. Cleo had prepared them for the team during the early days of the game, before they had walls and a roof over their heads to keep out the wind. They didn’t need such heavy blankets now that they were in a safe little abode, but Scott was a hoarder. This was exactly why. He wrapped them securely around Etho’s shoulders, and his hands brushed Etho’s neck. The white haired man was ice cold, but he wasn’t shaking. Scott knew cold like nobody else. Etho should be freezing. His teeth should be chattering, and his nose should be running. Maybe Scott would never understand how Etho had managed to reach such a point in his life that such conditions were normal to him.

“Bdubs stole my bed,” Etho shrugged, hugging the blankets closer to him, digging his fingers into the fabric. “You have- uh. Thank you,” Scott would not have been surprised if Etho was about to admit that he hadn’t seen a blanket in weeks. “I know that I was the one who said that we- uh, that we would keep it, keep this alliance on the downlow, but…”

Scott blew on his hands several times and pressed them against Etho’s masked jaw. It was tense. That must be why his teeth weren’t chattering. Etho stared at Scott. The tension in his shoulders, even under the thick wool, visibly relaxed, and his head dropped into Scott’s palms, which felt like a fireplace on Etho’s face. The stiffened joints in Etho’s neck audibly cracked, and Scott could practically feel the knots in Etho’s shoulders and upper back unraveling.

“You don’t have to apologize for wanting to be warm,” Scott murmured. Thumbs rubbed Etho’s cheekbones, which seemed to jut from his face. The blue haired boy made a mental note to feed this lanky man.

Part of Scott wanted to pull Etho’s head into his neck and cradle his shoulders, letting the man put all his, admittedly very minimal for such a tall survivalist of a man, weight on him. He pulled away instead. Scott pulled a towel out from the chest monster and draped it over Etho’s head. A surprised little “oh!” squeaked out of Etho’s throat, as Scott dug his hands into the towel and mussed Etho’s soaked hair, doing his best to dry it. Trying his best to keep his head still, Etho squeezed his eyes closed, as Scott bunched the towel in his hands on Etho’s scalp. The redstoner’s hair was pretty short. Scott didn’t have to try too hard to get it dry enough.

“Uh, do you have an extra, an extra bed?” Etho shuffled in place and rolled his shoulders. Scott did not have an extra bed, nor did he have the resources to make one. The G’s had yet to move their livestock, so shearing sheep would require a fifteen minute run to and from the island far from the rest of the bases in the rain and darkness.

“Yeah. It’s in that room,” Scott handed Etho a water bottle and nodded to his own room, pulling the blanket off of Etho. “You go ahead. I should set up a hook in here to dry this.”

Reluctantly, Etho pulled his mask down. Scott turned away respectfully, but he could hear Etho drinking. He sounded like he hadn’t had fresh water in a year, before he made his way to the ‘spare’ room. He stood in the doorway for a moment and looked back at Scott. The dry man did his best to ignore it, pretending everything was normal. Scott wrung the water out of the blanket in his hands and draped it over his shoulder, opening the chests to look for the materials for a tripwire hook. Etho’s eyes softened, and he crossed his arms, leaning against the wall.

“This is your room,” Etho stated. Scott huffed and half-heartedly picked through a chest for string.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Scott tried.

“I’m tired, Scott. I’m not clueless. The whole room is blue,” Etho argued. Scott threw the blanket onto the chests.

“We don’t have a fifth bed,” Scott mumbled, defeated, and looked up at the taller man. Etho shrugged nonchalantly. He hadn’t pulled his wet mask up. His lips had a scar running through them. It looked like it might have been from the same attack that scarred over his eye. Scott ignored that he was looking at Etho’s lips.

“So I’ll sleep on the blanket.”

“Absolutely not.” The blue haired boy sped over to Etho and practically tossed him onto the teal sheets. Scott closed the bedroom door behind him. “You’re not a stray fighting for scraps on the street anymore, sir. You’re my teammate, and no less.”

Scott tugged the blankets from under Etho and tossed them onto his frozen form. The warmth from when Scott was still under the sheets not too long ago seeped into Etho’s muscles. The older man had little time to react before Scott climbed in next to him, wrapping his arms around Etho’s neck and tucking Etho’s damp head under his chin. Etho didn’t know what to do with his cold hands. It seemed rude to press them against Scott’s warm shoulder blades. Scott’s neck felt scorching against Etho’s frozen nose. He doesn’t know when he had begun to let his body shiver.

“...If you insist,” Etho whispered. Scott’s hands ran through his damp hair. They felt like a mug of hot chocolate after a day in the snow. He felt like he was melting. “This is, like, the best decision I’ve ever made, I think.”

—————

Thanks for reading my little drabble!!🩵

#trafficblr #smajor #scott smajor #ethoslab #trafficshipping #scottho #wild life smp #i might make them kiss👀we’ll see #i wrote this in like an hour it just flowed out of me #i couldn’t stop or else i think i would’ve just died #they’re such an interesting pair i want more of them #drabble #scottho drabble #really tried to convey the weight of exhaustion with this one #the human body is heavy and we do not always have the strength or energy to hold it up

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3rizu · 2 days ago

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Kwon and his Girlfriend

A/N: Trust Kwon isn't dead🎀

Boyfriend!Kwon that loves holding you as he sleeps. Every night you’d go to bed next to him and he’d wrap his arms around you, you absolutely loved how he seemed to love cuddling with you.

Boyfriend!Kwon who loves you to death and has always scared people away, especially because he seemed like a guard dog standing behind you as he stared down at the person infront of you. Though as soon as you looked back he was back to the sweet boy you know and love.

Boyfriend!Kwon loves touching your skin not in a sexual way, he just loves the feeling of your skin under his fingertips. He’d be propped up on his elbow while you lay on your back giggling as he touched you.

Boyfriend!Kwon that always trained hard and the reason was so if anyone dared to hurt his sweet girl, he'd surely have their head on a stick in a few minutes.

Boyfriend!Kwon who's face looks like the color of a tomato when you’re sleep talking and keep mentioning him. He thinks you're dreaming about some guy trying to ask you out but you keep rejecting him and mentioning Kwon who's called “Pretty boy” according to you.

Boyfriend!Kwon that plans on marrying you as soon as the both of you are older. Who would he be to not marry you? An idiot is what he would be if didn't. So though you didn't know he was already saving up for when he'd buy the prettiest ring for the prettiest girl in his life.

Boyfriend!Kwon who did the things that other guys would call silly. He'd make sure that your every “silly” need was tended to, if it meant taking off your heels because you were too tired to do it yourself he’d do it. if it meant waiting a couple seconds while you took pictures of the pretty looking food he didn't mind as long as it was you.

Boyfriend!Kwon who doesn't mind you putting makeup on him or doing a skincare routine on him. (he didn't need one since his skin was already flawless) He didn't even mind when you asked if he could watch Disney princess movies with you.

Boyfriend!Kwon who knows your worth and wouldn't dream of ever hurting you so badly that he’d lose you. Kwon swears on his life he’d never mistreat you in any way, and boy does he really stick by that. He was the most kind, loving, sweet and gentleman you had ever known.

Kwon to you was a big softie. Though you'd seen him fight or spar, you know that side of him would never be directed at you. Kwon loved you so much and though he was a troublemaker her wanted stupid enough to lose you.

#kwon jae sung #kwon jae sung x reader #kwon x reader #CK #Cobra Kai #3rizuwrites

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scary-grace · 3 days ago

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if my heart was a house - a shigaraki x f!reader fic

It's been nineteen years since Tomura was sentenced to death, and you've built a life in the space he left behind, braced each day for the worst. You're prepared for everything - the questions your daughter asks, the memories that sting a little more in the winter, the specter of the news you've been afraid of for years. But of all the things life's thrown your way, it's the one you haven't dared to hope for might be the one thing you can't handle. (cross-posted to Ao3) written for @pixelcafe-network's Challenge Friday event! Banner/divider by @cafekitsune

You know even before you open your eyes that it’s snowed overnight. The world always sounds too quiet afterwards, and you used to have so many words to describe it – almost comforting, almost eerie, almost serene. But that was when you were young. Now you’d replace all those words with a different one: Empty. You used to love the winter, the first snowfall of the year, and you still do. But it always reminds you of him. And he’s gone.

He’s been gone for years now. The length of time you spent with him has been swallowed six times over by the time you’ve spent alone, and you’d like to think that even in the beginning, you wore your sadness well. Now, nineteen years in, it barely shows. You keep it buried through spring, summer, autumn – until the first frost, the first freezing rain, the first icicles on the eaves and the first drifts of snow on the ground, when it crawls free of the grave and sprawls on top of you at night. You met Tomura in the winter. Fell in love with him by spring. You got two more winters with him after that, and then he was gone, and nothing can fill the space he left behind.

But even if one chamber of your heart is frozen open for good, the rest is still alive. And there’s room for a different kind of love, a way for you to translate your grief rather than buckle beneath its weight. There’s a knock at the door to your room, and your daughter’s voice slips cautiously in. “Mom? Are you awake?”

“I’m awake,” you say, and you blink away the tears. “Come in.”

Even at eighteen, Chihiro still hesitates before she steps across the threshold, but once she’s made the choice, she throws herself onto the bed with abandon. “We got half a meter. That’s even more than the forecast said.”

“And we’ve still got power. Lucky us.” You wipe your eyes, just in case, and turn to face her. “Good morning, kiddo.”

“How long do I have to be kiddo? I’m almost done with high school.”

“Okay, you’re right,” you compromise, even as your throat tightens. She’s never met her father, never will, but the tone in her voice when she’s putting her foot down reminds you painfully of him. “What should I call you instead?”

“My name. You’re the one who picked it out.” Chihiro’s dressed in her pajamas with a hoodie thrown over them, and you can see her phone lighting up through the front pocket. “Don’t you like it anymore?”

“I love it,” you say, “Chihiro. Did you sleep okay?”

She nods. There’s something on her mind. You can tell by the way her brow furrows, and the way her mouth thins tells you that she’s planning to keep it quiet. Or that she’ll try. Chihiro has a hard time keeping her feelings inside. She and Tomura have that in common, but while you always gave Tomura space to figure out how to say what he needed to, you always let Chihiro know you’re aware, and listening. “What’s going on up there, Chihiro, my daughter who’s almost done with high school?”

She rolls her eyes, but a smile is pulling up the corner of her mouth. Her smile’s always been a little lopsided, but so has yours. “There’s only one morning of the year you ever sleep in,” she says. “The first time it snows. And then you’re different all day – not mad or depressed or anything. Just different. I was wondering why.”

“I’m sorry,” you say at once. “I’m not upset with you. It’s not anything you did. You could never do anything that would –”

“I know, Mom.” Chihiro’s crimson eyes are intent on your face. “It’s one day. You get to be weird if you need to. I just wanted to know – is it because of him? My dad?”

When she was little, you’d lie, and tell her the snow is so pretty that you can’t help but get emotional about it. There was a while where she didn’t ask. But she’s old enough now that you can admit it. You think. “Yeah,” you say. Your voice is steady. You’re proud of that. “This is around the time of year when I first met him. It brings back memories.”

“Good ones?” Chihiro settles into the pillows the way she used to when she wanted a bedtime story. “Tell me.”

You hesitate. “Not the gross stuff,” Chihiro clarifies. “I don’t want to know about that. Kaori’s mom tells her all about that stuff. And she bought her a vibrator for her birthday.”

“Huh,” you say after a second. “That’s sex-positive of her.”

“You’re being nice. What do you really think?”

You think she reminds you of Tomura. He never let you duck behind the niceties; he always wanted to know your real reaction. “I think it’s weird. Especially if Kaori didn’t ask.”

“She definitely didn’t. She’s really shy.” Chihiro grimaces. “I’m glad you’re not weird like that.”

Not weird is a good thing. Maybe. “You know I’m here if you need to talk about –”

“No, Mom. Gross.” Chihiro buries her face in the pillow. “Tell me about my dad.”

“Okay,” you say. “Your dad. He, um – there was something about him. I never met someone like him before, and I haven’t since. He told the truth about stuff, even if it wasn’t pretty, and he said what he thought even if it was a bad time. One time we went on a double date with one of his friends and their new boyfriend, and the first question out of your dad’s mouth was whether the boyfriend had drawn his facial hair on.”

Chihiro wheezes. “That’s awful,” she says, but she’s laughing – just like you were. “Had he, though?”

“We never got an answer,” you say, and Chihiro laughs harder. “Your dad could be a jackass sometimes, even to people he liked, but when it really mattered, he’d –”

Kill for them. You swallow the words. “He was there for people when they needed him,” you say instead. “He was always there for me. Even if he didn’t know the right thing to say, I could count on him to listen. And he never gave me a hard time for standing up for myself. Not even when we argued about things.”

You were sort of a pushover early on. You were worried that saying no would make you difficult, and being difficult would make him want to leave. It wasn’t how you were most of the time, or how you’d been before you and Tomura got together, and he wasn’t scared to call you out. You remember the grin on his face the first time you really put your foot down about something, set a boundary and held it. I knew you were in there somewhere, he said. This is how I like you.

That was something you loved about being with Tomura: You were good for each other. You made each other better. “It sounds like you were happy,” Chihiro ventures, and you nod. “Do you think you’d have gotten married sometime? Did you guys want kids?”

Married, maybe. Your friends and his all used to joke that the two of you were the old married couple of the group, but while you talked about the future, you almost never talked about marriage to go with it. Not until it was almost the end, and you never made it to the discussion, any discussion, about having kids. Your pregnancy was catastrophic because of what happened before it, but even if it hadn’t been, it would have raised a lot of questions that neither you nor Tomura knew how to answer. “We were really young,” you say. “I was only twenty-two. We hadn’t had that talk yet. But I think we’d have talked about it if –”

“Yeah.” Chihiro’s voice is muffled by the pillows. “Did he know about me? Before he died?”

Your stomach clenches in a tight, guilty cramp, one that’s been getting steadily worse over the years. “I didn’t find out until after he was gone.”

“Oh.” Chihiro’s voice goes small and wavering. “Do you think – um – do you think he would have liked me?”

There’s no way to know. That means what you say next isn’t technically a lie. “He would have loved you,” you say. Her shoulders shake, and you rest your hand on her back to settle her, the same as you’ve done since she was a baby. “Just like I do.”

Chihiro turns her head to look at you, her eyes glassy with tears. “Sorry.”

“No, it’s okay. Everything’s okay.” You rub her back in slow circles. “Ask about him whenever you want. I’ll always try to answer.”

“Do you miss him?”

Other than your daughter’s ragged breathing and your own steady, shallow sips of air, there’s no sound in the world. When you open up the blinds, you’ll see an empty snowfield, unmarked by human footprints for a little while longer. Footprints in the snow will be filled in by the next storm or melted away in the thaw, but the marks Tomura left on you are indelible. There will never be room for someone else where he stood, because he’s still standing there, somewhere you can’t reach.

Sometimes you’ve thought, selfishly, that it would be easier if he really was dead, just so you wouldn’t have to cope with knowing that he’s still out there, knowing exactly where he is with no way to get to him. You’ve let Chihiro think he’s dead. You tell yourself it’s easier for her this way. It’s better that she doesn’t know what really happened to Tomura. The fact that you know is bad enough.

“Mom?” Chihiro asks, and you realize you never answered her question. “Do you still miss my dad?”

You still love him. That’s the same thing. “I do,” you say. “Every day.”

Chihiro cries herself out, and then it’s time to get moving. Her school has a late start, not a snow day, and you still have to go to work. You make a special breakfast anyway, play the music you and she used to dance to when she was little, and soon your daughter’s smiling again. Chihiro doesn’t have trouble being happy, not like you and Tomura both did. Still do, probably. Your depression was just that, but the sheer weight of Tomura’s past regularly threatened to crush him, and you doubt the nineteen years he’s already spent in prison have done anything to improve things.

But Chihiro knows how to be happy, and you know, because she tells you when she’s not. You’re not naive enough to think your teenager tells you everything, but she knows she can talk to you. And she does talk to you, getting steadily back to herself as you eat breakfast and clean up and get ready, her for school, you for work. Then the two of you crunch your way to the car and start digging it out of the snow. The snowplows must have been out last night and early this morning, because the road doesn’t have much in the way of accumulation. You’ll have to be careful of ice.

You’re both a little sweaty under your winter coats when you get in the car at last. “I’m already gross,” Chihiro complains. “Why can’t we get a garage or something?”

“Where would we put it?”

“In your room,” Chihiro says. You snort. “Or in mine. Since I’m going to uni soon.”

Your heart sinks whenever she says that, but you’ll be damned before you let it show. “You’ll still need somewhere to stay when you come back,” you say. “Maybe we don’t really need a kitchen.”

Chihiro rolls her eyes. “What? You’re not planning to turn my room into, like, a sewing room or something once I go to school?”

"No," you say. "My parents did that when I went away. I hated it."

Looking back, you took it way too personally. They weren’t saying they were done with you, or that the place you’d grown up wasn’t home anymore. You were just hurting, and looking desperately for a reason why. Coming back on school break to find your room cleaned out was a good one. “I’m not going to do that,” you say to Chihiro.“Even when you live somewhere else, you’ll always have a place with me.”

Chihiro glances sideways at you. “Kaori’s mom is freaking about her moving away.”

“Kaori’s mom freaks out a lot,” you say. You and she should have bonded, because you’re the only single moms in this small town, but Kaori’s mom makes you nervous. “How does Kaori feel about it?”

“Her mom will be fine. She’s not worried.” Chihiro pauses for a long moment. “I am, though.”

Your grip on the steering wheel goes white-knuckled. “About Kaori’s mom?”

“About you,” Chihiro says. You reach a stop sign, come to a full stop, and turn to look at her. There’s a stubborn set to her jaw that’s all too familiar. “Kaori’s mom is crazy. But Kaori’s mom has a life. She goes out some nights and her friends come to visit and she has parties and hobbies —“

“I have hobbies,” you protest.

“Yeah. Your hobby means you hang out in the house all day,” Chihiro says. “You can't carry your sewing machine and all your fabric to a craft party. Maybe if you learned to knit or something —“

“I’m not going to knit.”

“Something,” Chihiro says firmly. “Something that means you’re not alone all the time. I’m excited to go to uni. I’m worried about what’s going to happen to you when I leave.”

You’ve fucked up, big-time. “Chihiro, I understand why you —“ No, you don’t. All you understand is that you were stupid to think your damage didn’t show, awful for making Chihiro think she has any responsibility for your mess of an internal life at all. “It’s not your job to make sure I’m okay. I can take care of myself.”

“It’s not about taking care of yourself,” Chihiro fires back. “It’s about being happy. You want me to be happy, right?”

“Of course I do,” you say. “I love you.”

“I love you, Mom.” Chihiro says it bluntly, unashamedly. “So I want you to be happy, too.”

You don’t know what to say. It’s quiet, and it keeps being quiet, until a car pulls up behind you and honks its horn. You refocus on driving in a hurry. With you distracted, Chihiro pushes the point. “You barely even talk to people, Mom. Kaori’s mom thinks you hate her because you never say yes when she asks to hang out.”

“I don’t hate her,” you say. Chihiro’s skeptical look skewers you to the seat. “Look, she’s just not — it’s complicated.”

“No it’s not,” Chihiro says. “Next time she asks to hang out, say yes.”

No. “What if I sign up for an art class at the community center instead?”

“Do that, too,” Chihiro says. You grimace. “You want me to be happy. I’ll be happy if I know you’re talking to other people and doing stuff that’s not in the house. I don’t want to come back on a school break and find out you’ve only been talking to the trees or something.”

She pauses. “I guess you can talk to them a little. As long as you don’t start thinking they talk back.”

“Got it.”

You drop Chihiro off at school less than a minute before the bell rings, but she still makes you get out of the car and hug her. She hugs really tight. She got that from you. Tomura used to complain jokingly that you were a boa constrictor in a girlfriend suit. You kiss her forehead and send her on her way, then get back in the car and drive to work, feeling even worse than you did when you opened your eyes to a snowy silence this morning.

Chihiro’s wrong about Kaori’s mom. It is complicated — not because you hate her, but because she’s the nosiest person in town, and because you’ve got a lot to hide. You didn’t mean to have a lot to hide. It was just something that happened, and as the years since Tomura’s conviction have unfolded, you’ve gotten steadily more attached to the lie. It’s not about you. It’s about Chihiro, who shouldn’t have to live with the knowledge that her father’s a convicted murderer awaiting execution in supermax prison, who shouldn’t have to deal with people looking at her differently. It’s about Chihiro. It’s not about you.

Or so you tell yourself. But there’s a reason you fled from Tokyo in the aftermath of Tomura’s sentencing, why you cut off contact with his friends and yours, why you dyed your hair and changed your phone number and nuked your social media along with every email address you ever had. People hated Tomura. And because you were with him, they hated you, too. It didn’t matter that you knew nothing. That the murders he was accused of committing took place before you met him. Even if you’d dumped him the second he was arrested, you’d have been called stupid for not seeing it all along. You couldn’t hack it. You were headed for a breakdown at high speed. But you would have stayed, if Tomura hadn’t told you to go.

The last time you spoke to him was after his sentencing, as they were taking him away. You seized his hands, already cuffed, his wrists chafed raw, and for a split second, he held on so tightly that one of your fingers broke. Then he looked up, hopeless fury in his eyes. Get out of here. Don’t come back. I don’t want you to watch.

You thought he meant he didn’t want you to watch him being shoved into an armored truck for transport, but when your letters came back unopened, when he refused to let you visit or even call him, you realized the truth. He wanted you gone, just as completely as he was gone from you. That moment in the courtroom was the last one you’d ever have with him. And that was what tripped the breakdown at last. You were throwing up too much to overdose and you were too chicken to try another way, so you went to the doctor to figure it out so you could kill yourself with your chosen method. You just wanted anti-nausea pills. The doctor did bloodwork, made you give a urine sample, and gave you a diagnosis.

“Hyperemesis gravidarum,” he said, and you looked at him blankly. “You’re pregnant.”

He expected you to get an abortion. Everybody and their mother probably expected you to get an abortion. If Tomura had been there, if your accidental pregnancy had been something the two of you were dealing with together, it probably wouldn’t have even been a question. And for any other pregnancy, it would have been the only viable option in your mind. But when you thought about it, about this pregnancy, your mind rejected the idea so violently that you threw up again. You couldn’t get rid of this baby. You needed it. Looking back, you know your reasons were terrible. You had a kid so you wouldn’t be alone. So you’d keep some memory of Tomura close to you always. So you’d have a reason to keep getting up in the morning, a reason to eat and sleep and exercise, a reason to find a new job in your new town and work hard at it. So someone would need you. So you could do something with your agony at losing Tomura, grab it with both hands and twist it back into love. Deciding to have the baby was the most selfish thing you’ve ever done. And raising Chihiro, loving her, is the most important thing you’ll ever do.

She’s right about you. You do live for her. And if that means signing up for a pottery class at the community center and agreeing to grab tea with Kaori’s crazy mom so she won’t worry, that’s what you’ll do.

You work in the combined billing/records/HR department at your town’s medical clinic, with occasional ventures to the front desk when a receptionist is out sick. You spend a lot of time staring at the computer, a lot of time on the phone, and very little time talking to your coworkers — but you’ve been here for seventeen years, longer than almost anyone else. You were working here before some of your coworkers were out of primary school.

Dr. Kawada is your age, though. He greets you as you walk in. “Glad you made it. Anybody who lives past the town limits is staying home.”

“They should. The roads are terrible even with the plows out.” You hang up your coat, then sit down and power up your computer. “How many patients do you think we’ll get?”

“We have a ton of cancelations already,” Keiko, the nurse-practitioner, reports. She would be the one to make it in — Kawada would crawl here with his teeth if he had to, and she’s his wife, so of course she tagged along. “And there was a call for you, bright and early.”

“For billing? Somebody must have been losing sleep.”

“Not for billing. For you,” Keiko admonishes. “I forwarded it to your phone. It seemed kind of urgent.”

You log into your computer, then decide to check the message while you’re waiting for it to perk up. The voice on the other end of the line is completely unfamiliar. “Hi there. My name is Midoriya Izuku, and I’m a lawyer with the —" There’s a really loud sound on the other end of the line, completely obliterating whatever he was about to tell you about the organization he’s part of. “Due to confidentiality I can’t share much over the phone, but it’s really important that I get in touch with you! Please call me back to arrange a meeting —“

You hang up and delete the message. You don’t like lawyers, and this guy sounds like he has prosecutor written all over him. Or else he’s a reporter lying to you about his credentials to trick you into giving him a quote. The twenty-year anniversary of Tomura’s conviction is coming up, and there were articles at the ten-year mark, too. You’re more concerned about how this Midoriya Izuku got your number in the first place. You’re not easy to find. You made yourself tough to find on purpose.

It’s a quiet day at the office. Almost all the appointments are canceled, which means that the walk-ins get seen almost immediately, and you have time to start on your end-of-the-year reports. And time to talk, because Keiko and Dr. Kawada are in talkative moods, and you’re the best and only target. “How’s Chihiro?” Keiko asks. “Has she picked a school?”

“Not yet. Still weighing her options,” you say. And then, because you’re tired: “She’s worried about what will happen to me once she leaves.”

“Tell her not to worry. We’ll take care of you!” Dr. Kawada says with a grin. “What’s she worried about, anyway? You seem fine.”

“I am fine. But I’m signing up for an art class so she’ll stop worrying that I’m going to wither away alone,” you say. Dr. Kawada snorts. “How I’m doing isn’t her responsibility. She didn’t ask to be born and I didn’t have her so she could take care of me.”

“Nobody thinks that,” Keiko says. She gives you a weird look, but then she changes the subject. “Hey, but even once she moves out, you don’t have to be alone! Me and Shogo know lots of people we want to set you up with!”

You’re pretty sure your face goes dead white. “What?”

“I mean, I know you haven’t been seeing anyone since you moved here —"

“Because it’s not about me anymore. It’s about Chihiro.”

“Yeah, but if it’s about Chihiro, shouldn’t you want her not to worry?” Kawada’s not helping. You feel like you might be sick. “I moved here right around when you did and I’ve never seen you date anybody. Things must have gone down real bad with your ex —"

“Shogo!” Keiko swats him, mortified, then looks at you. “Sorry. He should know better.”

“Chihiro’s dad isn’t my ex,” you say. “He’s — gone.”

It’s the same trick you’ve been pulling on Chihiro since she was old enough to ask, and it works on adults, too. Kawada backs off, chagrined. “Sorry,” he says. There’s an awkward silence. “I’ve known you for seventeen years. How did I miss that?”

“I don’t like to talk about it.” You don’t even like thinking about Tomura, but every winter, it’s unavoidable. Every winter the sadness curls up around you, and although time is supposed to heal things, it’s never gotten any easier to throw off come spring. “I wouldn’t wish it on anybody.”

“Yeah,” Keiko agrees. Her eyes are sad. “Still. Tell Chihiro not to worry. We’ll keep an eye on you.”

You force a smile, force your eyes to brighten. “Thank you.”

It’s the clinic’s slowest day in a while, and you spend a lot of it screwing around on the computer. You sign up for an art class, one that meets the same night as Chihiro’s choir practice, so you can pick her up on the way home. You google therapists, too — maybe she’ll feel better if she knows you have one. And maybe you need one. Chihiro’s your daughter, the most important person in the world, the one you’d sacrifice everything to care for. Caring for her takes up most of your thoughts, distracts you from the pain of losing Tomura. Once Chihiro goes away for school, there won’t be anything left to keep your sadness at bay.

Tomura’s been on death row for nineteen years. They could execute him at any time, and you’d never know until his name was released by the government. During his trial, when you realized the death penalty was on the table, you looked up how it would happen. It still haunts you sometimes. You don’t want to think of Tomura with his neck broken, his eyes open and staring, dying with feet chained together and his hands bound behind his back. You want to remember him before it all went wrong. Back when you still believed he was the best thing that ever happened to you.

You met him at university, on a day when the campus was iced over. Your on-campus job started early, which meant you had to make your way to the library on paths that wouldn’t be de-iced for another hour. Tomura had an early class. He was headed the opposite way from you, and you were both so focused on not slipping and falling that you walked headlong into each other and fell on your asses anyway.

Your backpack slid from your shoulders, and the papers Tomura was carrying scattered across the path. Fuck, Tomura said, with feeling, and you laughed. What’s so funny? You fell down, too.

I know, but — An image popped into your head and set you off all over again. We look like we’re in a cartoon. Except without the stars and planets around our heads.

No stars and planets? I want a refund, Tomura said, and cracked a smile that opened up a split in his lower lip. Damn it —

Here. You retrieved your fallen backpack and a packet of tissues, then started gathering the papers Tomura had dropped. Sorry. It looked like you were in a hurry to go somewhere.

Comp-Sci building. I’m never signing up for a 7am again. Tomura’s phone buzzed, and he yanked it out of his pocket. And now it’s canceled. Motherfucker. I have to walk all the way back —

Maybe not all the way, you said, and he looked at you. I work at the library. It’s definitely open. You can hang out there until they get the paths salted.

Tomura looked at you, the tissue still pressed to his bloody lip. You didn’t know his name yet, didn’t know anything about him, but there was something you liked about his face. Something you liked about how he still got in on your joke, even though he was pissed about the fall. Something about the fact that he hadn’t gotten up yet, even though you’d gathered all his papers and were holding them out for him to take. I’ll level with you, he said after a second. I’ve never been to the library.

I get that a lot, you said, and you stood up. The plan was to hold out your hand to help him up, but you moved too fast, and your feet slid out from under you again. You managed to hang on to Tomura’s papers, but you went down hard. Fuck!

Tomura didn’t ask if you were okay. He just lifted the papers out of your hands, set them aside, and helped you sit up with hands that shook ever so slightly. I’m surprised you swore, he said, and you raised an eyebrow. You look like the type who says fiddlesticks instead.

Fuck off, you said, and he laughed. Making him laugh felt like an achievement, one you were proud to win. Looking back, that was when you knew you were in trouble. Maybe we should just crawl to the library.

It’s cold. Walking’s faster. Tomura got shakily to his knees, then his feet, and you copied him. I bet we can make it.

He stumbled twice on the way there, and you stumbled once, but neither of you fell again. You were leaning on each other to balance, more contact than you ever made with guys you weren’t dating, and nothing about it felt tense or awkward. It was just the only thing that made sense to do.

And that’s how everything was with Tomura. It just made sense, and you were so happy — and you think Tomura was, too. You fought sometimes, sure, but everyone does. Sometimes you didn’t know the right thing to say, but neither did he. He had a rough past, and you didn’t push him to talk about it. You just let him share what he wanted to, when he wanted to, and towards the end you had something close to the whole picture. It just didn’t have the murders in it.

No. You don’t want to think about this. You know what you believe about this, and going in a circle won’t help solve anything. You decide to redirect your feelings of frustration by looking up the lawyer who called you. Sure enough, he’s a prosecutor— or he was. Looking at the profile on his law firm’s website, you’re not sure what he does. He was in the news a year or so ago. Some case involving the yakuza.

The bell rings, and since Keiko’s on break and the receptionist got snowed in, you hurry up to the front to check the new patient in. It’s a good distraction. It helps to stay busy. When you’re busy, you don’t have to think about any of it — not Tomura, not the fact that he’s gone, not the fact that your daughter is leaving soon, too. And you don’t have to think about how it won’t be long before all your distractions run out.

#shigaraki tomura x reader #tomura shigaraki x reader #shigaraki tomura x you #tomura shigaraki x you #shigaraki x reader #shigaraki x you #reader insert #x reader #man door hand hook car door #a bisquared production

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jazeswhbhaven · 20 hours ago

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Can i request hcs for each of the kings (plus any nobles you want) and what they would do if you slip into bed with them because you had a nightmare?

Thank you for waiting, anon! I'm chipping away on these fluff requests and I'm loving every single one. I'd like to think most of our bois are cuddly universally, but let's take a closer look~

Nobles first this time!

Beleth: I wanted to bring him up because he never sleeps due to his insomnia. So, you go to look for him and he's sitting in his bed pretty much reading or relaxing because that's all he can do. Beleth would be worried that you aren't getting enough sleep because humans need sleep, and he'd rub your back, tell you a story, sing to you (he's a good singer), even make you warm milk or tea whatever gets you back to sleep. And you wouldn't have to worry about those nightmares coming back, he's right there sitting next to you and watching just in case.

Amon: His sleep schedule is strange too, but luckily you catch him at the right time where he's in his room and passed out for the time being. When you slip in next to him, he doesn't notice at first which is fine and you make yourself comfortable, at least being near him will help you stay calm to go back to sleep. Suddenly he throws his arms over you and pulls you in like a body pillow, murmuring in his sleep that you're safe. And he means it, it's like the nightmares stay away naturally and you both sleep pretty much for a while, uh oh it might have been an entire 24 hours of sleep.

Gamigin: Okay so, no one else is available to help you with your nightmares and Gamigin is oddly wide awake in the middle of the night for whatever reason. At least he's being quiet, his staff sitting up against the wall of his room as he greets you for coming in. He may not have a healing remedy for nightmares, but Lucifer always loved being cuddled by him when he first got here. So he offers you the same comfort. As you fall asleep you notice that his form has changed, his dragon self curled around you and his scales/fur seemingly soft and comforting to run your fingers over. There's just something so naturally calming about Gamigin when he's like this where you knock out instantly and stay asleep the entire time. He's so happy to help that he stays still the entire time and even dozes off with you.

Kings time!!!

Satan: Nightmares? Silly. There's no need to have nightmares when he's around. But he also understands because he'd never tell you, but he has them too. Various nightmares that he could never explain as they may overwhelm you. But as you sleep in his arms he promises to never let you experience what he has. You just need to sleep and be by his side right now. His hair is also very calming and fluffy, like a warm cat <3

Mammon: Assuming you weren't in bed with him already, he sits up in his bed and allows you to sleep in his lap (to avoid rolling over and accidentally crushing you) because he also gets restless. He massages your body gently, providing whatever comfort you need to ease your mind and go back to sleep. Even if it means he has to sacrifice his own sleep.

Beelzebub: What's funny is that he was the one who slipped in your bed, because he could sense it somehow that you were having a restless night. You're so surprised, it makes him laugh and pulls you close, telling you to go back to sleep and he'll keep you safe. His musk smells of lavender and chamomile, which instantly brings you back to a calm state. He did once joke with you that he could enter dreams if he wanted and you're wondering if that's true because he was in your dream the second time around. Maybe it's just coincidence.

Leviathan: Tapping on Leviathan's coffin is a certain death wish, but you can't help it if you're having nightmares. He's annoyed naturally because you woke him up and over something...wait...nightmares? If anyone understands having them, it's Levi. His irritation leaves and he pulls you into his coffin without a second thought and tells you to go back to sleep and everything will be fine. He links his legs with yours and holds hands allowing your head to rest on his bare chest as the both of you sleep this way. You can agree this was possibly the best you've ever slept in a while.

Lucifer: Nightmares are a natural thing that humans experience, there's really no "cure" for it other than therapy and other things to help one soothe. There's something special he can do though, which he used to do time to time as angel in Heaven. As you sleep, he presses his finger tips against your forehead and small beam of light transfers to you. Your sleep is so light and airy, like you're floating in a valley of a cloudless sky and shallow waters. He holds you in his arms the entire night, and it's so blissful you almost don't want to wake up. He doesn't do this often though because sometimes that's exactly what ends up happening. But at least you don't have nightmares anymore.

Belphegor: At first, he didn't wake up at all to you slipping in bed next to him. His soft snores are cute, and that drool on his pillow is so typical. But it's not like he doesn't know you're there, he's just not acknowledging it. Belphie flops his limbs lazily onto you, and mumbles for you to come closer cause he's "cold". You are now trapped in his embrace and he's like a damn brick the way he doesn't move. But his little snores are like tiny vibrations, lulling you back to sleep and there's a bonus, Beleth finally being able to sleep comes in with you too and crawls in bed. Now you're sandwiched.

Asmodeus: What's funny(or not), is that he was in your nightmare. The details of that nightmare? Who cares, you're confronting him about it. He expected you, and says that maybe you shouldn't ignore his texts and he wouldn't have to bother you in your sleep. But he forgives you, and welcomes to cuddle you...well...after you have some make-up sex so he can apologize for the nightmare. Although he isn't the one for aftercare, you're knocked out after the sex anyway, and you look so cute sleeping, thankfully you don't wake up when he's rubbing one out by watching you sleep.

#whb #jwhbasks❓#what in hell is bad #whb headcanons #whb kings #whb nobles #whb beleth #whb gamigin #whb amon #lol the asmo one because idk to me he would #there's nothing sfw about asmo except in rare moments #beel just being in your bed already is canon to me #jwhbrequests📬

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arlana-likes-to-write · 1 day ago

Text

Doctor, Doctor

Family is More Than Blood Masterlist

Summary: The tide is pulling you in and you are getting to weak to stop it.

Warnings: bad mental health, implied suicidal thoughts, implied past abuse, therapy, Sam is a good guy, non-sexual nudity.

Relationships: Carol x Reader, Yelena x Natasha x reader (platonic)

Word Count: 3.6k

The pacing was the only thing keeping you grounded. So you paced: 5 steps in one direction, then five steps in the other. Everything around you turned to white noise. Not that there were many people in the Avenger’s compound. The world seemed to be holding on by a thread as fires spread across the globe. The only people that could put out those fires were the Avengers. The team was spread worldwide, and since you weren’t part of the team, you couldn’t know the specifics. You had half the mind to hack into FRIDAY to get updated everyone. With the stress of not knowing how the team was doing, combined with the sleepless nights due to nightmares, you were on edge.

It seemed your mind and body had enough. You were at your wit’s end. Each night, your mind creates horrific scenarios of those you love. Your hands were covered with so much blood. Your mind was having a hard time separating your nightmare and reality.

Usually, you would ignore it, push through, and hope your mind would figure itself out. That was past you, and you were trying to be better. You wanted to enjoy the life you were living with the people in it, but you weren’t sure if you could do it on your own.

But admitting you needed help was a weakness, and a weakness meant death. Honestly, you were proud of yourself. The person you were now was leaps and bounds from who you were in the Red Room. Still, these habits were hard to break. His voice was still engraved in your head. “Hey,” you jumped at the sudden voice and the hand on your shoulder. You put your hands up, ready to fight. “Sorry,” it was Sam. “I didn’t mean to scare you. You seemed lost in your own head.”

“Yeah,” you put your hands down. “Sorry, I haven’t been sleeping well.” His eyes scanned you over.

“Do you want to get out of the compound?”

“Please,” you said. If you weren’t so desperate for a distraction, you would have hated how weak you sounded. Sam smiled, and you followed him to the garage. The silence was comforting. Sam was special. His presence was calming, like a lifeboat in a raging storm at sea.

As he drove away from the compound past the small nearby town, he turned down a nonpaved road. You raised a questioning eyebrow. “Are you taking me out here to kill me?” The man rolled his eyes.

“Please, like I could kill you,” he teased, sparing you a glance before focusing back on the road. “And if I managed to kill you. Natasha, Yelena, Alexei, Carol, and Melina would be on my ass. Nooo, thank you,” he paused. “I would never know peace.” You rolled your eyes.

Finally, he parked in a small lot. There was only one other car. You followed him out of the car and took a deep breath in. The air was crisp. It felt cleaner somehow. “Ready for a hike?”

“Are you going to be able to keep up?” The man glared at you.

“I don’t know why I try to be nice to you, Black Widows.” You chuckled.

“Come on, Sam,” you smiled. “I’m following your lead.” You followed him to the start of the trail. He filled the silence with stories from his childhood and his family in New Orleans. But most of the walk was spent in silence besides the crunch of the leaves and sticks at your feet. With each step you took, the weight on your shoulder seemed to disappear.

You smiled at the couple who walked past you on their way to the car. Soon enough, you reached the end of the trail and at the top of the mountain. The scenery around you felt otherworldly. The air was crisp and cool. In one direction, you could see the other mountains part of the range surrounded by green trees.

It was mid-afternoon, and the sky was a vast and brilliant blue. Birds were flying at your level. There was a beauty at the top that you forgot existed in this world. “So,” you looked at Sam. “Wanna talk about why you were pacing a hole in the ground?” You smiled and sat down on a rock.

“I don’t know, Sam,” you said. Some days, I feel like I have it together, like there isn’t this crushing weight, but recently, I feel like I can barely hold my head above the water. " You picked up a stone and threw it up and down. The tide keeps trying to drag me under, and I’m afraid. " You let the stone drop back to the ground. I might stop fighting so it can take me out to sea.”

There were so many dark thoughts that echoed inside your mind. On certain days, listening to those thoughts seemed easier than fighting them. “And I know,” you continued before Sam could speak. “That I have so many people on my side that support me and count on me, but I am so fucking tired,” you squeezed your eyes shut. “I just want it all to stop.” You admitted. “I mean, the world will keep spinning, right? Even if I’m no longer in it.”

You heard the man let out a low hiss. You weren’t suicidal, but it seemed easier. “Ours would stop,” Sam finally said. “Our world would stop spinning.” You reopened your eyes to see Sam walking towards the edge. “Have you ever been sky diving?” He looked over his shoulder as you shook your head. “I should take you,” he looked back at the view. “It is the most freeing and adrenaline-pumping thing a person could do. I love it.”

You stood up slowly and walked to stand next to the man. “I’ve been on a roller coaster, does that count?” He slapped you playfully. “Why did you ask me that?”

“In sky diving or even for us Fly Boys on the team, you have to have complete trust in the people that you don’t necessarily see,” you frowned, a little confused. You have to trust the pilot, trust the instructor leading the pilot, and trust the people who packed your gear that they did it correctly. Blind trust is terrifying,” he said and touched your shoulder.

Trust. So much of your trust has been broken. “Do you trust me?” He asked.

“Yes,” you answered. The man smiled.

“Then trust me when I say this,” he took a few deep breaths. “I think you need to see a therapist, and I can find you a good one.”

“No,” you pushed his hand off your shoulder and headed back down the trail.

“Wait, ugh, hold on,” you heard him quicken his pace to catch up to you. “Look, I can’t imagine what that sick bastard put you and your sisters through, but I’ve lost someone because they couldn’t fight the tide. I will not stand by and watch it happen to you,” His confession stopped you and turned around to face him. “An old service buddy of mine,” he answered the question before you asked. “The weight of what happened over there got too much, and he let himself drown.” He took a few steps closer to you. “My mama said every soul that touches us leaves a mark - some as gentle whispers or bold strokes - but their imprints remain even when they’re gone. You’ve shaped our lives by being in it, and there is no going back.” You felt your chest tighten. Sighing, you placed your hands on your hips and looked at the ground.

“I trust you to find me a good one, Samuel,” the man laughed and put his arm around your shoulder.

“If I find you a good one, can I push you out of a plane?”

It was to disguise your trip to the city to check on a few Widows who had recently been exposed to the red dust. You felt bad about telling a white lie, so you visited a few of them; one was going to school, and another was starting a business. It made you happy that they were getting out of this life.

Now, you were sitting in Dr. Sabrina Hale’s lobby. Your leg was shaking, and you were gripping your jeans. You felt like you were going to be sick. Anxiety swirled in your stomach. Like Sam, you needed to believe in the blind trust of this stranger. “Hi,” you looked at the doctor. The woman was pite - her black hair was cut shoulder length, and her blue eyes seemed to have a caring presence. “My name is Sabrina. It is nice to meet a friend of Sam’s.” You introduced yourself and shook her hand. “Please come in.” You followed her into the office.

Her office was much bigger than you expected. It had a large window overlooking the city, and her wooden desk was in front of it. Next to it was a couch with a chair. In the corner, there was a small table with chairs covered with coloring pages and art supplies. The most striking detail about her office was how decorated it was. There were plants in every corner and pictures on the wall documenting her travels and her family.

“Sit where you are comfortable,” you sat on the couch. “Do you want something to drink?”

“No, thank you,” she grabbed a travel mug from her desk and sat in the chair beside you.

“I will start off this session by saying that everything you say here is protected by doctor-patient confidentiality,” she said, crossing her left leg over her right.

“And if I don’t say anything?” Sabrina shrugged.

“Then we stare at each other for an hour in silence. Regardless, I still get paid,” you let out a dry laugh and stared out her window. “Sam told me you work with the Avengers, so I can guess whatever is haunting you isn’t pretty,” you scuffed, folded your hands, and rested your forearms on your thighs. “I tell my patients that you get out of therapy based on what you put into it. You need to want to be here. You want to get better.” Sighing, you stared at her.

She had a small smile on her face. Her eyes were so kind; they seemed to stare into your soul. “Do have any siblings? I have an older brother and a younger sister.” She was the middle child, and that made sense. Middle children were known to struggle with a sense of identity. Every piece of decoration showed you a piece of who Sabrina is. They also were known to rebel - her nose ring and sleeve of tattoos gave her away. But you snapped out of that. Sabrina was here to help you. She was not your target.

“Yeah, I have two younger sisters,” you smiled. “We aren’t related by blood.”

“Family is family,” she said. “Blood doesn’t matter.” You nodded and felt better that she had the same viewpoint as you. “Who annoys you the most?”

“Excuse me?” You were shocked by the question. Sabrina laughed.

“Come on. You are the older sister; your younger siblings must annoy you.” You chuckled and leaned back on the couch. She was right. It got on your nerves when Natasha left her pointee shoes lying around. Yelena had the annoying habit of putting her dirty laundry with yours so you would do it. You smiled again.

“They both do things that get on my nerves, but I love them.”

“I love mine too,” she said. “We got these tattoos together.” She turned her arm over to show you the artwork forever marked on her skin. It was like the work of three birds on a branch.

“Did it hurt?” You questioned. “The sleeve, I mean.” She watched as you looked over your sleeve.

“The first one did,” she answered. “After so many, you get numb to the pain.” Her blue eyes were watching you closely. Missing how your body tensed at the comment was not hard for her. “Are you numb to it all? After everything you’ve been through.”

You were unsure how to answer because you weren’t numb. You felt everything. Every hand that hurt you. Every bullet and knife slash that pierced your skin. That was why you wanted it all to stop. You shook your head. “I feel it all,” you whispered. “I wish I was numb to it all.”

“It’s good that you are feeling,” she told you. It means you can still be pulled back. You can be saved. The question is,” You watched her stand up and walk over to the mini-fridge. She grabbed out a small water bottle and walked back to you. “Do you want to be saved?” she asked while handing you the bottle.

She was extending an olive branch, waiting for you to take the first step—blind trust. Like sky diving, you needed to trust that everyone did their job to ensure you would survive. You wanted to be saved because there was so much life you wanted to see. You took the water bottle. Sabrina smiled and sat back down. “Good, the ball is in your court,” she said. “Lead me in whatever direction you want.”

“I’m going for a run,” you said while you entered the common area. Yelena watched you grab water from the fridge. “I’ll be back.”

“Do you want a running partner?” Natasha asked, but you quickly shook your head.

“It will be quick,” you smiled. “Figure out what you guys want to do for dinner.” You called out before putting on your headphones and left out the side door. Yelena frowned as you left. Twice a week, you leave the compound and go on a run. You went alone every time, no matter who asked you to join. Natasha walked over to the window, and Yelena got up from the couch to join her.

“She’s hiding something,” Natasha said. Yelena nodded in agreement.

“Do you think she’s cheating on Carol?”

“God no,” Natasha shot that idea down. “I just wish she trusted enough not to have to hide.” There was no way to hide the hurt in Natasha’s voice.

“She’ll come around,” Yelena smiled. “She always does.”

“Still hiding away, I see,” you rolled your eyes. You were video chatting with Sabrina for your weekly season. Your back rested on the tree trunk while you sat on the forest floor. There was a thin layer of sweat on your forehead from your run. “Why don’t you trust them with this?”

“I do trust them,” you defended. “I just-” you trailed off. It was one of the annoying things about Sabrina. She was patient - too patient for your fucked up mind. “I don’t want to seem weak.”

“Admitting you need someone to help you through your mind does not make you weak,” she told you. “I think it makes a person very strong.” You sighed and looked past your phone to the wilderness around you. “Trust is a thread that holds relationships together,” you looked back at Sabrina. The doctor was drawing in her sketchbook. It was something she always did during your sessions. You never asked what she was drawing, and she never showed it to you. She put the sketchbook down when she saw that you were looking at her. “When it frays, even those who care the most are left powerless to help. Doubting those who care for you builds walls, not of protection, and in the end, loneliness becomes your only certainty.”

“What are you getting at Hall?” You asked. The doctor was spinning a pencil in her hand.

“You are at a standstill,” she said. “You will not continue to heal unless you trust them with this side of you. But also trust yourself.”

“I do trust myself,” she looked at you like she did not believe you. The only way to survive in this world was to trust yourself.

“To an extent, yes, you had to trust yourself because who else would you trust? But I want you to trust yourself to be vulnerable and to feel weakness. You do not have to be the strong one all the time.”

Natasha’s door was open when you knocked on it. Yelena was on her bed while they were sharpening some of their knives. “Are you going to throw one of those at me?”

“Do you deserve to have a knife thrown at you?” Natasha questioned. You shrugged.

“Depends on who you ask,” you smiled and walked into her room. You found some space on her bed and sat down. Yelena handed you a knife and a sharpening tool.

The repetitive action of sharpening a blade was calming. It was nice to spend time with them. “Do you have something on your mind, sestra?” Yelena asked. You smiled and looked over the knife. Flipping it over, you stared at your reflection.

“Sam helped me find a therapist,” you decided to rip off the band-aid. “I’ve been seeing her for a few weeks now.”

“That’s great,” Yelena said. “I’m so proud of you.” You looked down, embarrassed by the praise.

“Why did you wait this long to tell us?” Natasha asked. You sighed and, when you were done, handed the knife to Yelena.

“Million-dollar question, right?” Natasha chuckled. “I guess I didn’t want to seem weak to you guys. Hell, not even Carol knows.” You picked up another knife to begin the process again. “I trust the two of you with my life,” you began. “But I’ve learned that I don’t trust myself to be vulnerable or weak. If I’m not the strong one, then what is my role? What is my purpose.” Natasha took your hand to stop you from sharpening the knife.

“You just have to be our sister,” she said. “That’s all we want.” You smiled.

“Sometimes I wish life was kinder to us,” you admitted. “We were far too young to be subjected to the darkness.”

“We got each other out of it,” Yelena smiled.

“The best thing to come out of the Red Room,” you joked.

You stayed awake until Carol returned from space. “Jesus,” she jumped when she opened the door to her room. “You scared the shit out of me.” You giggled and stood up from her bed.

“Sorry,” you smiled and closed the distance. “I wanted to surprise you.”

“Well, consider me surprised,” she said, wrapping one arm around your waist while closing the door with the other. She pulled you flushed to her chest. “Hi baby,” you felt the words rumble from her chest. I missed you.”

“Missed you too,” you kissed her cheek. “How was space?”

“Good,” she sighed. “Tiring, but I kicked ass and looked good while doing it.” You shook your head with a laugh.

“You always look good,” she covered her mouth as she yawned. “Come on, my captain, let’s get you to bed.” Carol shook her head.

“Shower with me first, then bed,” she kissed you softly. “I promise to behave.”

That was hard to believe, but you followed her to the bathroom. This type of intimacy and trust was new to you. Showering with someone was never slow and sweet. It was usually against your will, dirty, and fast. Carol taught you differently.

You helped Carol out of her tactical suit and kissed the new bruises that decorated her skin. While the water was warming up, she helped you out of your sleeping clothes. You stood in front of her—naked like the day you were born. It took time for you to be like this with her. The dark thoughts that invaded your mind and the scars that covered your skin made you believe you were undeserving of this soft trust.

You helped Carol out of her tactical suit and kissed the new bruises that decorated her skin. While the water was warming up, she helped you out of your sleeping clothes. You stood in front of her - naked like the day you were born. It took time for you to be like this with her. The dark thoughts that invaded your mind and the scars that covered your skin made you believe you were undeserving of this soft trust.

“Krasivyy (beautiful),” Carol mumbled. The words she knew in Russian were few, but she knew the ones that made you smile.

“No funny business,” you warned, pulling the Avenger into the water. She insisted on washing your hair first. The way her fingers massaged into your scalp made your body feel boneless. Once your hair and body were clean, you returned to the favor.

Carol hummed. “You have magic fingers, baby girl.” You chuckled and kissed her shoulder.

Once the soap washed off Carol’s body, you turned off the water and dried yourself off. You took some of Carol’s clothes to change into and climbed into bed. Instantly, Carol pulled you into her arms. Like with your sisters, you decided to rip the band-aid off. “I’m seeing a therapist,” you said. Sam found me one based in the city.” She put her finger underneath your chin and forced you to look at her.

“Do you like her?” You nodded. You liked Sabrina. She was annoying and got underneath your skin, but she forced you to face the hard parts of your psyche. “Proud of you, baby,” she kissed your forehead and hugged you tighter. Her fingers ran through your hair, bringing you closer and closer to sleep.

Carol was proud of you, as were Natasha and Yelena. It felt good to hear. “I love you,” you mumbled against Carol’s chest. The tide was all-consuming. You felt breathless and weak, but you were working on fighting the waves. You were proud of yourself, too.

#carol danvers x reader #carol danvers x you #carol danvers x y/n #yelena belova x you #yelena belova x reader #yelena belova x y/n #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff x y/n #yelena belova x natasha romanoff x reader

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hoonieyun · 2 days ago

Text

together again

pairing: sim jake x reader “y/n”

genre: angst, exes to lovers

warnings: not a lot really but please let me know if i miss one, mentions of death, car accident, profanity, reader has/had amnesia, 18+

summary: your sister gets a call from the principal to pick up her daughter after an altercation with another student. unable to because of work, she asks you to pick up your niece and when you do, you meet an old face. one you hadn’t seen in years and one you definitely have tried to forget. among the memories you’ve forgotten, you wish you had forgotten him.

word count: 8517

⋆⋅☼⋅⋆

your phone rings, jolting you out of your sleep. your sister’s contact appears on your phone and you bring it to your ear as you press the green accept button. “it’s 8am why are you calling me?” you say, voice hoarse. “what? y/n, its 10am are you still in bed? ugh, that doesn’t matter. jiheon got into a fight at school, can you pick her up please?” your sister asks. “i’d pick her up but i’m about to enter a conference, please, i’ll owe you one!” she says before ending the call, not giving you a chance to even answer. it wasn’t like you weren’t going to pick her up, you loved your niece and would do anything for her.

you quickly freshened up, changing into new clothes and putting your hair back into a clip. the drive to your niece’s school wasn’t too long. it was only 10 minutes away. when you got there, some students were playing in the courtyard. you made your way to the office, “hi, i’m y/n. i’m jiheon’s aunt, her mom asked me to come pick her up. is everything alright?” you ask the lady at the front desk. “miss park? are you jiheon’s mom?” a man in a suit who you assumed was the principal approached you. “no, i’m her aunt. her mom is at an important conference right now so she asked me to look after jiheon, is everything okay?” you asked once again, worried that you hadn’t seen your niece but had already asked for her a few times.

“auntie y/n!” jiheon shouts. you peer behind the principal and see jiheon running towards you. she crashes into you with a hug, her small figure only reaching to your waist. you kneel down to her level, “hey dear, is everything ok? are you hurt?” you ask her and she just looks down while nodding. clearly she had been affected in some way and you wanted to know what was going on.

“what happened? all i know is that jiheon got into a fight? what is that about?” you say while softly pulling your niece behind you. “well, she pushed another student off of a swing.” the man explains. “he started it! he was calling me names!” jiheon shouts from behind you, causing you to further put her behind you to shield her away.

“so she was defending herself. case closed, the other student should be punished- wait he? you pushed a boy off a swing?” you ask your niece and she nods. you mouth the word “nice!” and give her a high five before turning back to the principal. “we have a no violence policy here at Bright Spring Academy. jiheon will have to come in on a saturday for disciplinary training for the rest of the month.”

“what?!” you and your niece both yell in disbelief. this moment reminded you of when you would constantly get in trouble in school back when you were younger. at some point your parents made you switch schools 3 times in one year because of how much trouble you were getting into.

“that’s ridiculous! and what punishment is the other student going to get-” you ask but are cut off by another man running into the office. “principal lim! is leehan okay?” he asks, completely ignoring your presence and shoving past you to get to the principal. a little boy runs from the same direction jiheon had previously appeared from and ran up to the man. “uncle!” he yells and the man kneels down to the boy's level to receive his hug. he softly rubs the back of the boy’s head, “you alright bud?” he asks, his strong australian accent giving you deja vu.

⋆⋅☼⋅⋆

you and jake were walking in a park hand in hand when he spotted a stray dog limping on the side of the street. jake quickly looks both ways before crossing the street, dragging you along as your hand was still in his.

he kneels down to the small dog, petting him softly; “you alright bud?” he asks the dog. the dog releases a small whimper before it cuddles up to jake’s hand.

⋆⋅☼⋅⋆

“jake?!” you say in disbelief. “yeah?” he says before looking up at whoever called his name. when jake finally lets go of his nephew and looks up at you with his big puppy eyes, it's like he’s hit with a truck. he hasn’t seen you in years, the shock of seeing you out of nowhere causing him to lose balance and stumble onto the floor. “uncle!” leehan says, his small hands trying his best to help his uncle back on his feet. jake gets back on his feet, dusting himself off, and running his hand through his hair.

“y/n… what are you doing?” he asks, voice trembling a bit but his eyes says that he’s happy to see you. “leaving.” you say while grabbing your niece's hand and making your way to the exit. “don’t forget about saturday disciplinary classes!” principal lim says. “jiheon won’t be attending unless he’s there too.” you say, gesturing to jake’s nephew; and with that the two of you head to your car. “thanks auntie… i’m sorry.” jiheon says, causing you to whip your head around to face your niece.

once again, knelt in front of your 8 year old niece. you softly brush away her hair that has landed in front of her face. she was looking down, embarrassment and shame was spread across her tiny face. “hey…” you say while grabbing her chin to look at you. “never. apologize. okay?” emphasizing each word. “you did the right thing.” you say, making sure that your niece knew that you meant every word. “but mom says violence isn’t the answer.” she says, now fiddling with the hem of her sweater. “please, your mom and i used to beat up boys in school if they looked at us weird.” you say and her eyes light up at your words. “really?” she says and you nod. grabbing her hand once again as you approach your car. “yeah, but don’t tell her i said that. it’s good you defend yourself from a bully, that’s what matters.” you explain as you unlock your car and open the door to the back seat. you help jiheon get into your car, sliding her backpack off and putting it onto the seat next to her. you help buckle her seatbelt when someone calls out to you.

“y/n!” you turn your head around, the sun in your eyes but you could clearly see who called after you. you see jake running up to you so you quickly close the door, “give me a sec sweetie, ok?” you say and jiheon just nods.

“what the hell do you want?” you ask and jake quickly cover’s his nephews ears. “language!” he whisper yells, you mutter a small sorry. “when did you get back?” jake asks, hands still covering the small boy’s ear standing in front of him. you always imagined jake would be a good father. you often talked about a life where you had a family and grew old together.

⋆⋅☼⋅⋆

“so how many kids do you want?” you ask him, playing with his hands as you both laid on your bed in your dorm. “hmm, 5?” jake says and it surprises you so much you begin to cough. “woah, baby you okay?” he says while laughing.

“jaeyun? five?!” you ask him and he just nods at you with a silly smile and his puppy eyes. you shake your head at him and smile back. “i don’t know if i can handle five kids.” you say half jokingly. he grabs your head and brings it to his lips, softly placing a kiss onto them. “don’t worry, i’ll take care of you and all the kiddos. i’d make sure to give all of them equal attention and to love all of you with all my heart!” he says, rubbing your tummy and giving it a kiss as if there was already a child growing inside of you. “but…” jake says with a pause.

“i’d be happy with anything, just as long as you’re by my side.”

⋆⋅☼⋅⋆

“like… four months ago. jake what do you want?” you ask, finally giving him his answer but not without asking a question of your own. jake stutters, trying to come up with an answer but to his dismay he isn’t really able to form one. not because he didn’t have an answer, but because he was too stunned and didn’t know how to answer it without crumbling. “i just-” he begins but cuts himself off. no answer leaving his lips.

“bye jake.” you say as you begin to turn around. “why didn’t you tell me?” he asks, desperation dripping from his words like he was begging you for an explanation when you clearly didn’t owe him one. “i have no obligation to you jake. we haven’t been together for 6 years.” you say before finally turning around and getting inside of your car.

“who is that auntie?” jiheon asks as she played with the hem of her sweater. “just some weirdo, you ready kiddo?” you ask her and she yells in excitement. you begin to back your car up but jake was slightly in the way. you didn’t like jake but you weren’t about to commit a crime and run him over with your car. you honk the horn causing jake and his nephew to jump, moving out of your way so you could leave the parking lot. once you had finished backing out, you sped off back to your sister’s house, exhausted by the interactions you had today and it wasn’t even 1PM.

jake watched you drive off, disappointment lingering in his head at how that went. for the last 6 years he hasn’t stopped thinking about you. he even would write a script in his head how he would talk to you when he sees you again for the first time in a while. needless to say, this wasn’t how he expected it to go. he combs his hand through his hair with a big sigh, “uncle can we go now? i’m hungry.” leehan says, tugging on his uncle’s jacket. “right! yeah, sorry bud. come on.” jake says as he grabs his nephew’s backpack as they make their way to his car. only parked a few spots away from where your car was.

⋆⋅☼⋅⋆

you were helping your sister set the dinner table, trying to figure out the best way to bring up the jake fiasco earlier in the day when your niece randomly blurts it out, “auntie almost punched a guy at school today.” she says nonchalantly. your sister’s face contorts into a puzzled expression while you stare at your niece like she had just betrayed you. “jiheon! i did not!” you say with a scoff, slightly laughing. “jiheon, go upstairs really quick. i’ll call you down when dinner is ready.” your sister says as she stirs the soup on the stove.

jiheon gets up from her spot at the kitchen counter in one of the stools and walks up the stairs to her room but not before you tickle her for her betrayal, resulting in her shrieking followed by a giggle as she runs up the stairs. “so what was that about?” your sister inquires.

“nothing…” you say with a side eye, hoping your sister would take your side instead of believing her 8 year old daughter. “y/n…” she says like your mom used to say when she would warn you. “okay!” you say, throwing your hands up in defeat. “i didn’t punch a guy okay! but… i did run into jake…” you say, whispering the last part. “you what?” she asks, unclear what she heard. “iranintojakeattheschool.” you say, blending all the words together with the speed that they left your mouth. “y/n!” your sister says, an irritated expression spread across her face. “i ran into jake! gosh! must i talk about that man!” you say, slumping into a seat at the dinner table. head resting on your hand as you propped it up on the table. a pout visible on your face. “oh… jake you say..?” your sister says, slowly turning away from you to return to stirring the soup on the stove. “yes… what?” you ask, now concerned because of her reaction.

“oh, nothing.” she says with an awkward chuckle. you stand up from the table and get closer to her. “joy, what??” you ask her, now wanting an answer out of her. sure jake was your ex boyfriend but her reaction read as something else. not the reaction you were expecting

from your older sister when you bring up an ex. “jiheon! honey, dinner’s ready!” your sister yells out, trying to change the subject. “joy!” you say, swatting your hand at her but she was too far. before you know it, jiheon is rushing back downstairs with a piece of paper in her hand. “this isn’t done.” you mouth to your sister before you grab some glasses from the kitchen counter to bring to the table.

you’re setting the glasses down at their respective places when jiheon hands you the piece of paper. “what’s this jiji?” you ask, using the nickname you gave her. “open it!” she says as she rocks back and forth on her heels and toes. you unfolded the paper and inside there was a heart and two stick figures you assumed was you and your niece, and the words “i’m sorry” written in the heart.

“aww, jiji i wasn’t actually mad! don’t worry, i forgive you!” you tell her, reassuring your niece that she shouldn’t feel bad and that you were only joking around. she gives you a tight hug and the three of you have dinner.

ever since you moved back to korea, you had been living with your sister and her daughter. your sister’s husband worked overseas for your parent’s company while your sister helped manage the branch in south korea now that your parents were getting too old to be constantly working. your brother in law was a good man, but you could see that his family missed him.

your sister was kind enough to let you live with her instead of making you find an overpriced condo somewhere in the city. ever since the accident it has been hard for you to be alone, so being with them made things a lot easier for you when you came back to korea.

when you were 23, you were in a car accident that should’ve killed you. you broke several bones and had several cuts and bruises scattered across your skin; you were in such critical condition that the hospital at one point started preparing your family for preparations for your death, but life had other plans. instead of leaving this earth, you were in a coma for 8 months. after close monitoring and intensive care, the doctor’s taking care of you were surprised that you had opened your eyes one day.

you were now 28, almost 29 when you moved back to korea. your mother stayed by your side throughout your whole recovery in america, never leaving your side, she was like your guardian angel. when you woke up from your coma, the doctor’s diagnosed you with amnesia, which they expected with the amount of damage and trauma your body and mind went through. it took a year and a half for most of your memories to come back, however, the events of that night, so traumatic, never returned. to which you’re grateful for. even today, you have a hard time forming coherent and structured memories that stick in your mind unless a specific instance sticks in your brain.

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you’re washing the dishes in the kitchen when joy slips the last of the dishes into the sink, “really?” you said with a stoic expression. it was just like when you were younger, sliding plates into the sink while the other was already washing dishes to avoid having to wash your own. the two of you laugh it off as your sister gives you a small hug. “thanks for picking up jiheon.” she says, giving your shoulders a squeeze before letting go.

“i don’t know what i’m going to do with her. her behavior has been so different lately…” your sister says, leaning on the kitchen counter. “what do you mean? she seems fine to me.” you respond, eyes focused on cleaning the dishes in the sink. “what? she literally got into a fight today.” your sister reminds you. “no, she didn’t! the boy was bullying her and she defended herself, what about that is her getting into a fight?” you retort and your sister rolls her eyes at your response, like she expected that from you.

“violence isn’t the answer y/n. you, of all people should know that that behavior isn’t good.” she says, causing you to scoff at her. “oh, don’t give me that bullshit joy. i turned out fine. you need to prioritize your daughter’s safety and well being instead of being too focused on this behavior of hers.” you say, putting air quotes around “behavior”; soap suds flying into the air at your motion.

“she’s clearly not doing well because of a bully and instead of automatically thinking she’s the problem because she pushed some kid in self defense, maybe you need to focus on your daughter’s mental health.” you say, unloading onto your sister, disappointed in her for not seeing the bigger picture. “this has clearly been happening for too long and she had been bottling it inside until she had enough and finally stood up for herself.” you say, giving your sister a quick glance, her gaze glued to the tile floor of the kitchen.

“you can’t punish your daughter because she got into a fight, if you can even call it that. you need to let her understand that bullying isn’t okay and if she needs to defend herself, then she should.” by the end of your speech your sister’s face had turned a shade of red.

whenever your sister knew she was in the wrong, her face would gradually turn red. it was then that you knew that she understood what you’re saying so you didn’t need to say more. “go easy on her, she’s so young and she just wants you to feel like you’re on her side. we were just like that when we were her age.” you say softly, putting the last of the clean dishes on the drying rack. you quickly dry your hands on a rag before walking over to your sister.

“okay?” you ask, looking into her eyes. “yes, ugh i hate when you’re right.” she says with a smile while pulling you in for another hug. “it happens more often than you think.” you say with a chuckle and she pushes you away in response. “that was a good speech, it’s like mom’s spirit transferred into you for a second.” your sister says. your mom was always the more tender and understanding one of your parents. although your dad wasn’t necessarily strict or intense, his ways of showing affection were limited, and his way of raising you and your sister was focused on making sure you put in the effort to achieve your dreams through hard work.

“so what are you gonna do about the jake thing?” your sister asks, tiptoeing around the topic. “nothing. i haven’t seen since i was like 22 and i have no plans of seeing him again.” you say with a shrug before you made your way to your room. the basement that your sister had renovated to be livable for you. a spacious open area that had enough so that you didn’t feel like you were too crammed. it was like having a studio of your own.

what you were unaware of was that you would be seeing jake more often than you thought.

⋆⋅☼⋅⋆

the next day, when you’re casually shopping for a bit of groceries to make dinner for your mom as she was visiting you two, you run into jake at the market. he’s in the ramen aisle, sifting through the various ramen flavors. he hadn’t changed one bit, he still loved ramen.

you were about to turn around and leave when he glances at you, calling your name. you stop in your tracks like you’ve been caught. “bye jake.” you quickly say, not even bothering to look back at him and just making your way to another section of the store. far, far away from the ramen aisle.

⋆⋅☼⋅⋆

you next saw jake at a cafe. you had just finished your morning run, something you picked up in physical therapy when you were in recovery. it had helped a lot with your mobility and was some sort of therapy for you. once your body recovered enough, you picked up running every morning.

you had stopped by a coffee shop to grab a latte for you and your sister, and a hot chocolate for your niece when you almost crash into jake as you’re exiting. “woah!” he says as he catches you, his hand softly landing around your waist as you grip the tray of drinks with both hands.

“y/n?” he asks and you just release yourself from his grip, jake throwing his arms up in defeat by your actions.

“bye jake.” you say and leave. jake awkwardly looks around, feeling like the whole coffee shop was staring at him and indeed they were. so he shyly smiles at everyone with an apologetic hand gesture to the patrons as he makes his way to the counter.

⋆⋅☼⋅⋆

you’re on an evening run in the park when a dog runs up to you. stopping to kneel down and pet the cute dog, you’re unsure of where she came from or who her owner was. that was until a familiar australian accent calls for her, “layla! i told you to stop running after people.” jake says, causing you to roll your eyes. you stand with your hands on your hips and lean to the side as you watch jake jog after his dog.

“come here girl.” he says and layla runs back to him. jake was about to start a conversation with you but before he can say anything you return back to your run. “bye jake.” you say as your run passed him.

⋆⋅☼⋅⋆

when you see jake for the 4th time in just a week, you snap at him. you’re dropping off your niece at school for her saturday disciplinary class and of course jake is there to drop off his nephew.

you rush back to your car when jake runs after you. “y/n, please!” he says, pleading that you would just talk to him. “what jake?! what could you possibly want?” you say, frantically throwing your arms up, irritation clearly running through your face.

“i just wanna talk… please?” he asks softly, a bit hurt at your reaction. he didn’t think he had done anything wrong and he fully wasn’t sure why you were so angry or hostile towards him. you close your eyes to calm down a bit before you answer him, “fine.” you say calmly. a smile crawls onto jake’s face, ecstatic that you finally agreed to speak with him. you exchange numbers and jake texts you the address with a heart emoji. “cut it out.” you say bluntly and jake obliges. “ok, sorry. please drive safe.” he says, almost hinting at your accident years ago. a wound you weren’t ready to open up with jake.

you didn’t notice, however, that when jake gave you his number to put in yours, he didn’t ask for yours. jake, although you haven’t been together for sometime, still kept your number in his phone saved under “y/n” with a pink heart and ring emoji. he hadn’t even changed your contact photo. it was a picture of you at the beach. it was his favorite photo of you and his favorite memory.

⋆⋅☼⋅⋆

you had arrived at the cafe, “cafe chaconne” in cursive written above the glass doors. jake was patiently waiting for you at the entrance, eyes lighting up and lips widening into a smile when he spotted you exiting your car and walking towards him.

“m’lady.” jake says while opening the door with a curtsy. you narrow your eyes at him and he straightens up and clears his throat. “sorry.” he mumbles and watches you enter, not seeing the smile on your face. jake releases a big sigh and prepares himself for this moment he didn’t realize he was waiting for.

the two of you quickly put in an order with the younger barista at the counter, jake fighting you on the bill and insisting to pay for your drink. a normal banter between the two of you when you were dating, a wave of deja vu hitting you as a short memory flashes in your mind.

⋆⋅☼⋅⋆

“hi, can we get the bill please?” jake asks the waitress and she looks at jake with a confused expression. “sir your meal has been paid for already.” she kindly informs your boyfriend and now it’s jake’s turn to return the confused expression. when jake is too confused to speak, the waitress walks away after saying her goodbyes.

jake is still confused but his face changes when his eyes land on you. a shit-eating grin on your face as you smile at jake’s reaction. he soon realizes you’re the one who covered the bill and had beaten him to it.

“why do you always fight me on the bill?” jake says with a pout and you just shrug and stick you’re tongue out at him.

“you’re just my little princess.” you say and blow a kiss his way. jake at first rolls his eyes but pretends to catch the kiss and places it inside of his jacket.

⋆⋅☼⋅⋆

“y/n? you alright?” jake says, knocking you out of your thoughts as you realize you’ve just been standing absentmindedly in the middle of the cafe. the two of you walk to a small table just big enough for the two of you and the silence is a bit awkward.

“you brought me here, so what do you want?” you say, your tone is a bit more sharp than you intended but you could tell jake wasn’t phased as it seemed like he was glad you broke the silence. “right!” jake says, almost jumping out of his seat at the sound of your voice. he clears his throat before speaking.

“sooo… how are you?” jake asks, testing the waters, unsure of how to start the conversation; trying to tiptoe around the touchy subject and tension between the two of you. “is that really what you wanted to ask me?” you respond and before jake can reply, the barista brings the two of you your drinks. you both thank her and as you take a sip of your hot chocolate, “i miss you y/n.” jake says, causing you to choke on your drink and jake’s eyes widen at your reaction.

“sorry, the drink is really hot.” you say trying to play it off so it didn’t hurt his feelings and jake gives you a small tight-lipped smile. he knows that his statement was abrupt and by your reaction it definitely caught you off guard but he took no offense to it all. deciding that just getting it out of the way would be the best even if you didn’t reciprocate his feelings. those four words were something that had been eating at him since the last time he saw you and he had no way of telling you until now.

“um, jake. i don’t know what to say-” you respond but jake softly puts his hand over yours. letting you know that you didn’t have to feel the same way but that he just wanted to you know that. “it’s alright. just know that i’ve never stopped thinking about you.” jake says and you close your eyes. trying to hold yourself together, surprised that this was making you more emotional than you thought it would, unsure of what to say or feel.

“please, tell me about you. how’ve you been? i wanna know everything.” jake says and you slowly fill him in on your life. only the parts that you were willing to share, omitting all of the traumatic things that happened during your healing journey and focusing on the brighter side but jake brings up the accident and at first you were reluctant but figured that jake deserved to know the full truth.

“after the accident i was in a coma and after 8 months i somehow woke up. then my parents moved me to the states for better medical treatment. something about knowing a doctor there that specializes in physical therapy i don’t even know but i wasn’t necessarily in the position to question it.” you explain, jake nodding as he actively listened to you, a part of him wanting to hug and console you as you spoke after seeing tears well in your eyes. you had hoped that jake didn’t notice so you wiped them away and kept talking. you explained how after the accident, you were in a coma for about 8 months and miraculously lived through it.

“i was in the states until just a few months ago. i actually fully healed last year but didn’t decide to come back until recently.” you finish and jake is just nodding. at this point he was half listening and the other half was scanning your face. you were still as beautiful as jake remembered but he could tell some parts of you were different. you had a different aura to you and jake couldn’t blame you. what you went through was tragic and traumatic and he couldn’t imagine just how much pain and ache it caused you. he doesn’t realize a small tear is rolling down his cheek until you point it out.

“jake are you crying?” you ask and he snaps out of his thoughts. this time it was his turn to wipe the tears from his eyes and act like they weren’t there. “i’m really sorry you went through all of that, y/n.” jake says and you could tell he was being genuine. you mutter a small thank you before taking a sip of your drink. confusion brewing inside of you as you begin to feel things you haven’t felt in a long time. feelings that you only ever felt with jake.

“i had amnesia for a while. if i’m being honest i can’t even remember what it was like because the more i remembered old memories and made new ones, it filtered out me not remembering anything at all.” you explained, half unsure if what you said even makes sense but due to jake’s nod you assumed that it did. “i don’t even remember the night i got into the accident-” you begin to say.

“i’m really sorry!” jake says abruptly, interrupting you just as you were about to finish what you were saying. it was like he needed to get his apology out of his system despite having just apologized a few moments ago. like this apology was for something specific rather than a general condolscenes. “you don’t have to be sorry jake. it’s not your fault.” you say, comforting him because clearly he was feeling a strong bowt of emotion from hearing what happened to you.

“but you should feel sorry for never reaching out to me…” you say quietly but to jake it was loud and clear. “why did you come see me… at all?” you ask, this was a question that had been weighing on you for sometime. when your memories of jake came back, that was one of the first things you thought of, but ever since that day you had never received an answer. maybe now you would.

jake opens his mouth to say something but stops himself. like he was thinking of the correct thing to say but nothing leaves his lips besides another apology. jake drops his head, embarrassed at his weakness and for not telling you what you needed to hear. you were so tired of hearing sorries and apologies. none of that was going to bring you back together and no apology was going to fix the irrepairable damage that night did to you. but you couldn’t blame jake for that, you’d never blame jake for what happened that night.

you sigh as you stand up, jake’s eyes following you as you sling your bag over your shoulder and fix your coat. “thanks for the drink jake. i’ll see you around, i guess.” you say and before jake can even respond or react, you’re walking away from and out the door. “god, i’m so stupid.” jake says as he once again drops his head in embarrassment.

⋆⋅☼⋅⋆

you weren’t sure where you were going but you soon found yourself walking along han river. the weather was fairly chilly but your coat provided enough warmth that allowed you to enjoy the air without feeling cold. you find an open spot on the grassy fields that ran alongside han river, the field was filled with families and couples on picnic blankets enjoying food and drinks and the company of their loved ones.

⋆⋅☼⋅⋆

“i could totally fall asleep here.” you say as you lay down on the blanket that jake had laid out on the grass. the two of you were on a date at han river for your birthday, the weather was perfect for a picnic so he had planned the whole thing, all you needed to do was show up.

“yeah? you wanna take a nap? we totally can!” jake says, encouraging your idea but you laugh it off. wanting to enjoy the day that jake had planned for you as you watched him unpack a basket, laying out all of your favorite food and snacks onto the blanket.

⋆⋅☼⋅⋆

you’re sat on the plush grass when your eyes start to feel heavy, slowly sliding down onto your back and carefully placing your head onto your arm as a makeshift pillow; drifting off to sleep in the middle of the field with the soothing sounds of han river like a lullaby. the cold night wind whips past your sleeping figure and the cold chill wakes you from your slumber. blinking your eyes a few times, your gaze lands on the stars that are shining in the dark sky and you soon realize that you had been sleeping in the middle of the park.

no other soul was present and although you were a bit fearful that you were alone in the dark at night, your fears were easily brushed away knowing that there wasn’t anyone that could harm you. you pull yourself off the ground and dust your clothes off before heading to your car and back home.

the drive back to your sister’s house wasn’t long but the sleepiness was holding onto you as you drove, fighting off the heaviness in your eyes by blinking rapidly and turning up the music from the radio. thankfully, you weren’t asleep for too long and still had enough time in the night to freshen up before bed, thankful that you didn’t ruin your sleep.

pulling into the driveway, you see an unfamiliar car parked in front of the garage, however, you know you’ve seen it somewhere but due to your sleepy nature it was a bit hard to wrap your brain around where you had seen the car before. you trudged towards the front door after parking your car and just as you’re pushing the door open, you hear your sister arguing with someone in the dining room. you instantly run over to see what all the commotion was and find your sister facing a man whose back is facing you.

he slowly turns around after hearing your footsteps and it turns out to be jake. that’s where you knew where the car is from, you saw his car at your niece’s school, you saw his car at the store, and at the cafe.

“what the fuck is going on?” you ask, irritation in your voice as you look at your sister and jake. why the hell was jake in your sister’s house and why were they arguing?

“tell her, joy…” jake says slowly, averting his gaze to your sister and onto the floor when your sister doesn’t immediately oblige. “yn, look…” she says, approaching and you can’t help but feel nervous as she steps closer to you. joy holds your hands in hers. “y/n… listen to me, ok?” she begins and you can’t help but grow more anxious the longer she stretches out what she’s going to say to you.

“when you got into the accident-” she continues but jake cuts her off. “it was my fault.” he abruptly says and your eyes slightly twitch at his confession. “what’s your fault..?” you ask, unsure if you want to know the answer to your question. “the accident… it happened because of me, ok?” jake confesses and you’re struggling to understand what he could even mean by that.

how could jake be responsible for your accident and you not know a single thing about it…

you force them to continue and to not leave out any details.

“the night of the accident, before you got into your car in the rain and crashed… we got into a fight. it all happened so fast but you stormed out of our apartment and drove off before i could even stop you…” jake recalls and your brain starts to swell as you’re gaining all this new information about the traumatic time in your life.

“jake ran to the hospital as fast he could when i called him-” joy begins to say but you interrupt her. “wait… you were the cause of my accident and you didn’t try to reach out… not once?” you ask jake, confusion turning into anger as more questions brew inside of your head. “you knew… this whole time? since it happened and up until now? you even tried to find your way back into my life and you knew this whole time and witheld this information from me?” you scoff, absolute shock in your voice at the audacity of jake and quite frankly also your sister.

“y/n, please. mom and dad didn’t let him see you. they refused… they didn’t want him anywhere near you after he explained to them what happened.” your sister further explains but it doesn’t fix anything.

jake let you leave that night and didn’t even fight to get you back. you left that night but he was the one who abandoned you.

“you’re both despicable!” you shout, cheeks burning red and veins purtruding on your forehead and neck. “i don’t care what mom and dad think, you, BOTH of you, should’ve never hid this from me…” you say with more anger and as you take a step closer, a wave of nausea washes over you; causing you to stumble.

your body suddenly feels heavy at your feet but your head is light. in a motion to grab your temble, your legs suddenly give out from underneath you and you start to fall; luckily, jake was fast enough to catch you.

⋆⋅☼⋅⋆

“baby, they hate me! you know this, you can see the way they treat me!” jake says. the two of you were having your monthly argument about your parents and how they’ve never liked him. jake was a good guy, he was ambitious, smart, caring, and loving. everything you wanted and admired about him but your parents only saw the lack of digits in his bank account.

jake wasn’t well off but he took care of himself and his family back home. your parents never approved of your relationship and when he tried to get their blessing for your hand in marriage, they threw a fit. going as far as to ruin the surprise for you and tell you that you’re forbidden to wed jake and that they’d never approve of it.

which only caused you to question their thinking as you knew nothing about wedding, leading to jake’s proposal being spoiled but him not wanting to explain to you the full scope of the issue.

jake wanted your parents blessing for your hand in marriage but they wouldn’t allow it; jake however, had too much pride in himself to face you and ask you to make a decision. either spend the rest of your life with him or choose the path your parents want for you if it meant he would no longer be in the picture. or was he afraid..?

afraid that if he was to ask you this question, there wouldn’t be any doubt or second thought in your mind to leave him because your parents said so.

that’s where you were now, you were trying to get jake to talk to you about why he all of a sudden was so upset over an ordeal with your parents you barely even knew about, but he was too stubborn and would tiptoe around what he really wants to say… until it came out of his mouth in the worst way possible.

“fine! whatever, if you want to be your parent’s little robot for the rest of your life rather than to be happy, then go right ahead. be my guest!” jake says, throwing his hands in the air in frustration and betrayal even if you hadn’t even made any decision yet and had no clue where any of this was coming from. you were, however, hurt. hurt that jake would say something like this to you knowing your history with your parents.

“is that how you really feel?” you ask, your voice low as you bite your bottom lip in an attempt to fight off tears. jake doesn’t respond, not because he has nothing to say, but because he’s afraid that he’ll say the wrong thing.

but you take his silence as a yes. resulting in you storming out of your apartment with jake and to your car, waiting to cry until you get inside the car and drive off. you weren’t sure where you were going but the tears obstructing your vision wasn’t helping the fact that it was suddenly raining an intense amount compared to just moments ago.

you didn’t even have enough time to react before a bright light quickly approaches your vision paired with rapid honking and your memory goes black.

⋆⋅☼⋅⋆

as you make impact with the car in your dream, you’re jolted awake with a gasp. you’re laying on the couch while joy and jake are intently watching you from across the couch. they both jump to your side when you wake up, asking if you’re okay, and although you’re still quite upst at them, you choose to accept their acts of care and comfort because you know they truly do care for you.

“i’m fine… i just had a really intense dream.” you say as you continue to explain what happened. as you unravel the emotional events of your dream, jake explains to you that it wasn’t a dream and that was what happened the night you got into an accident. swallowing the dryness in your throat, you ask jake if he can give you and your sister a moment.

he slowly glances between the two of you before heading off somewhere, “you can wait in my room, jake.” you say and you watch him head down the stairs to where your bedroom is in the basement.

“what… is happening..?” you ask and she looks at you like you’re a wounded bird. your sister sighs before she unloads everything onto you, explaining the events of your accident up until your recovery, filling in the missing pieces of your mind.

she explains that your parents never liked jake and with him being the cause of the accident, your parents double downed and refused to let him see you. using that as a reason to fuel their hatred for jake, the accident acting as a mask to hide their real reason for their distaste of jake; because he didn’t come from a rich family like you.

the news weighed heavy on your heart, not knowing the sorrow that jake was going through while you were also going through something traumatic. you wished jake was there by your side because it would’ve made everything so much easier. having jake by your side always made things easier for you…

you quickly thanked your sister and gave her a hug before going to find jake in your room. walking down the short stairs felt like eternity as you think about everything that happened. you held so much hatred for jake because he wasn’t there for you but it wasn’t even his fault. you find jake standing by your bed, holding a photo in his hands, “hi, jake.” you say, slightly startling him.

“y/n!! sorry, i didn’t mean to snoop.” he says before setting down the photo where it originally was. it was a photo of you on your birthday, a photo that jake took.”its okay… um.” you begin to say, unsure of what you even want to say to him. “wait… let me go first.” jake says and he takes your silence as a yes before continuing.

“i know that you probably hate me for keeping this from you, but please don’t hate your sister. she was only doing what your parents asked. it was my fault you ran out and drove in the rain that night. i’m sorry for causing you so much hurt and pain and im so sorry for not taking responsibility for it. i wish i could go back to that night and stop you from leaving. i really fucking wish i tried harder…” jake says, biting back tears.

walking over to jake and gently taking his hands in yours while placing another on his cheek; you wipe away a single tear that had broke loose from his lashes. “it’s not your fault jake. please don’t blame yourself…” you say but he disagrees. explaining that none of this would’ve happened if he just chose not to fight or if he stopped you from leaving. “jake, there was no way any of us could’ve known that i would get into an accident that night…” you continue. “the only thing i care about is that i’m alive… and got to see you again.” jake’s eyes met yours when he heard your confession. a sliver of hope brewing inside of him as he believes this could lead to what he’s been wanting to go back to for years.

“but jake… why did you let my parents stop you? couldn’t you have visited when they were there? or tried to see me?” you ask and jakes eyes melt at your question. “y/n, i did. i wrote you a letter everyday and whenever i tried to visit you, security that your parents hired stopped me…” he explains and your heart breaks even more at the idea that your parents hated him so much they wouldn’t even let you see him, going as far as to hire a security guard to stop jake.

you endlessly apologize to jake, tears now running down your eyes as you wrap your arms around him, crying into his chest as he softly rubs your back. “don’t apologize, my love.” he says and your heart instantly flutters at the petname. “can we start over?” you ask, looking up at him and a smile spreads across his face. it’s kind of like you already had a do over a life anyways after waking up from your coma so what’s the difference with starting over with jake. “of course, my love.” he says and you hug one another tightly; not wanting to let go.

jake eventually goes home even though you begged him to say. the only reason you let him leave was because he said he promised to watch a movie with his nephew but he promised to come back tomorrow to take you on your “second first date”. you smiled at his words as you walk him to his car. “thank you for giving me another chance.” jake says. you lean up to give him a kiss on the cheek, “thank you for not giving up on me.” you say before turning on your heel and walking back inside, not seeing jake’s cheeks turn a bright red from your small kiss.

⋆⋅☼⋅⋆

the next morning, you woke up with a smile on your face as you prepared for your date with jake. after getting ready and putting on a dress in jake’s favorite color, you head upstairs to find your sister in the living room with a box. she’s rummaging inside of it and when she notices your presence, her eyes light up.

“y/n!” she says, waving you over to come closer. “these are all the letters that jake wrote you when you were in the coma.” she says and your mouth falls slightly open, “i would steal them before mom or dad found it and kept them. i forgot about them until last night.” she says andyou just give her a tight hug. in this box were hundreds of letters and jakes days without you. as you began to read them, you found yourself laughing and crying. some letters were emotional with jake writing about the pain of being away from you and not being able to apologize or even get to apologize.

other letters were short and lighthearted where jake would just write about his day and what he ate. often it would just be ramen, his favorite.

you were crying as you read each letter and before you knew it, jake was texting you to say that he was outside; ready to pick you up for your date.

as you walked outside, trying to hide that you were previously crying, jake gives you a small kiss on the cheek, “hey… have you been crying?” he asks and you reassure him that you’re okay. “okay, love. ready for our second first date?” he asks and you nod eagerly, a smile on your face that he hasn’t seen in years and a smile that you haven’t genuinely shown in just as long, maybe even longer. you didn’t know that you could ever feel so happy or feel loved again like before the accident, but getting back together with jake helped you put together your memories again, it was like everything came together like a scrapbook. torn and ripped pages, dried out flowers, and memories that apart don’t mean a lot but when put together, everything makes sense… and with jake by your side; you were finally together again.

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all writing here is fiction & not in any association with characters mentioned.

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