#i love her and i can’t remember what happens to her other than the remnant oh my god

[lesbians4scully]

feel like i didn’t appreciate valkyrie cain enough when i was 10. she deserves so much better ouagg

[reidmarieprentiss]

Say Don't Go

Summary: You are given the opportunity of a lifetime, Spencer urges you to take it. Even if it means leaving him behind.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Category: fluff, angst

Warnings/Includes: time jumps, typical BAU crime, mentions of drugging/kidnapping/robbery, brief alcohol consumption by reader and friends, clubs, break up(?), talks of marriage, forced choices/decisions, happy ending !

Word count: 15k

a/n: so what if this pulls inspiration from the train scene in glee... SO WHAT ... and so what if i named a character after kurt

main masterlist

December 2008 – Present

"You’ve been with so many women you don’t remember their names?" Spencer asked, laughing at Derek.

"Are you surprised?" Emily snorted, raising an eyebrow.

"This has never happened to me before," Derek defended, sounding genuinely incredulous.

"It’s never happened to me before either," Spencer chimed in, grinning as he started toward the conference room.

"It can’t happen to you—you have an eidetic memory," Emily teased, her smirk unmistakable.

"Plus, you only have one name to remember," Derek added with a mischievous glint in his eye.

"Ha ha," Spencer replied, forcing a laugh, though the words cut deeper than he let on. Derek wasn’t wrong.  

He only had one name to remember. One that mattered above all the others.  

But Spencer had messed it up. He had let you get on that train. He had let you walk away.

Spencer's regrets weren't always loud or obvious; they often whispered to him in the quiet moments of his everyday life, weaving their way into his thoughts like unwelcome visitors he couldn’t shake.

It was in the mornings, when he brewed a pot of coffee in his lonely apartment, and his hand hovered over the second mug he used to pour for you. He’d catch himself mid-motion, the pang of realization that you weren’t there cutting through him like a knife. He’d take his coffee black, staring at the empty chair across from him, and wonder if you were having your morning cup too—if you still took it with two sugars and a splash of cream.

At work, it was the little things that brought you to mind. A joke Derek would make, or the way Emily tilted her head while teasing him, reminded Spencer of how you used to laugh with him, soft and genuine. He could still hear your voice in the back of his mind, offering your take on a case or pointing out something he’d missed. Those moments were the hardest—because they reminded him of how much better everything had been when you were there to share it with him.

And then there were the books. Spencer couldn’t walk into his favorite bookstore without being overwhelmed by the memory of browsing the aisles with you, debating over which novel to pick for your next "couples read." Now, those shelves felt empty, even when they were fully stocked. He’d run his fingers over the spines, pausing at titles he knew you would’ve loved, but he never brought himself to buy them. What was the point if you weren’t there to read them with him?

Evenings were the worst. After a long day at the BAU, when he returned to his dim apartment, the silence was deafening. He’d sit at his desk, pulling out old case files to distract himself, but his eyes would always drift to the small keepsake box he kept on the shelf. Inside were the remnants of your time together—a movie ticket stub, a pressed flower from a date, a Polaroid of you laughing at something he’d said. He’d told himself he’d put it away to move on, but instead, it became a shrine to his mistakes, one he visited more often than he’d like to admit.

And then there were the nights when the ache became unbearable, when he’d lie awake in bed, staring at the ceiling, haunted by the image of you boarding that train. He could still hear the sound of the wheels on the tracks, still see the tear-streaked expression on your face when you looked at him through the window. Those nights, he’d wonder what he’d say to you if he had another chance—what he’d do differently if he could go back. 

The regret wasn’t just a feeling; it was a constant presence in his life. It was the realization that, in trying to give you what he thought you needed, he’d taken away the one thing he needed most: you.

—

June 2008

“Spencer?” you asked cautiously, looking over at your boyfriend as his car came to a stop in front of the train station.  

You could see him take a deep, trembling breath, the shakiness audible even as he tried to steady himself.  

When he turned to face you, his eyes were already brimming with tears, spilling over before he could even speak.  

“You said we were going to dinner,” you reminded him, your throat tightening as dread began to settle in your chest. You were trying desperately to ignore the sinking feeling you couldn’t shake, clinging to the hope that you were wrong.  

Spencer cleared his throat, but it didn’t stop his voice from breaking as he said, “No.” He shook his head, and the weight of his next words seemed to crush him as he continued, “You’re going to New York.”  

“What?” Your voice shot up as you stared at him in disbelief, as if he had grown another head. “What do you mean? I turned Aubrey down.”  

“I know,” Spencer sighed, his gaze dropping to his hands on the steering wheel as if he couldn’t bear to look at you. “I can’t let you throw your dreams away for me.”  

“My dreams?” you repeated, your voice rising in anger and heartbreak. “Spencer, you are my dream. I love you!”  

“I love you too,” he choked out through his tears, his voice cracking under the weight of his emotions. “That’s why I’m letting you go.”  

“But—” you tried, your hands reaching for his as if grounding him could change his mind.  

“No, Y/N.” His voice was firmer now, though the pain in it was unmistakable. “I—I called Aubrey. She still wants you. I told her you accepted the position. That you’re coming.”  

“Why?” you cried, the single word breaking into a sob. Tears spilled down your cheeks as you searched his face, desperate for an answer that would make this make sense.  

Spencer’s lips quivered, and he looked away, unable to face the devastation in your eyes. "Because you deserve to have everything you’ve ever wanted," he whispered, his voice barely audible over the lump in his throat.  

"But I already have everything I want!" you shouted, your hands gripping the sides of his face, forcing him to look at you. "You’re all I need, Spencer. You’re it for me!"  

He let out a shuddering breath, his tears falling freely now as his hands reached up to cover yours. For a moment, you thought he might give in, that he might change his mind. But then he shook his head again, his expression resolute despite the anguish etched into every line of his face.  

"You’ll resent me one day," he said, his voice cracking. "You’ll look back and wonder what you could’ve done, what you could’ve been if you hadn’t stayed for me. I can’t live with that. I can’t live knowing I held you back."  

"That’s not fair!" you cried, your voice breaking under the weight of your sobs. "You don’t get to decide what’s best for me! I chose you, Spencer. I chose us!"  

"I know," he whispered, his hands tightening over yours as if trying to memorize the feeling. "And that’s why I have to do this. Because I love you too much to let you give up your future for me."  

"My future is with you!" you insisted, but he was already pulling your hands away from his face, gently but firmly.  

"I called Aubrey," he repeated, his voice hollow. "She’ll be waiting for you at the station in New York. Your ticket is already bought. Your bags… they’re in the trunk."  

You froze, staring at him in disbelief. "You… you packed my things?"  

Spencer nodded, his expression breaking entirely under the weight of your hurt. "I knew you wouldn’t leave if I didn’t."  

"You had no right!" you shouted, shoving at his chest. "No right, Spencer!"  

He took it, letting you pound against him until your strength gave out, until your sobs consumed you, leaving you trembling and broken in his arms. "I’m sorry," he murmured over and over, pressing his lips to your hair. "I’m so sorry."  

But he wasn’t sorry enough to stop you from going.  

As the train whistle sounded in the distance, Spencer gently pulled away, his hands lingering on your shoulders. "You have to go," he said softly, his voice thick with tears. "The train won’t wait."  

"I hate you," you whispered, the words cutting him deeper than anything else ever could.  

"I know," he said, his voice barely audible as he let his hands drop to his lap. "But one day… I hope you’ll understand."  

He opened the car door for you, but you didn’t move. You just sat there, staring at him with tears streaming down your face, your chest heaving with the weight of everything unsaid.  

Finally, you whispered, "Goodbye, Spencer," your voice trembling as you stepped out of the car.  

He didn’t respond, didn’t say anything as he watched you walk away, each step feeling like a dagger to his heart.  

And when the train finally began to pull out of the station, Spencer felt his heart drop to the pit of his stomach. The reality of what he’d done crashed into him like a freight train. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. 

Before he even realized what he was doing, his legs were moving, carrying him toward the train. "No," he whispered to himself, his voice shaky and panicked. "What have I done?"  

His feet pounded against the pavement as he ran alongside the train, desperate, tears streaming down his face. He called your name, his voice breaking, though he wasn’t sure if you could even hear him through the thick glass and the noise of the train.  

Inside the train car, you were curled into the seat, staring blankly out the window, your face streaked with tears. You weren’t expecting to see him. But then, there he was—running alongside the train, his expression frantic, his lips forming words you couldn’t quite hear.  

Your heart shattered all over again. The sight of him, so desperate, so raw, made it even harder to leave. Your hand instinctively pressed against the cold glass, a futile attempt to reach for him.  

Spencer’s legs burned, his lungs screamed for air, but he kept running, the distance between him and the train growing with every passing second. His vision blurred from the tears, but he didn’t stop. He couldn’t.  

But you… you couldn’t bear to watch. Your tears fell harder as you pulled your hand away from the window and turned your head, unable to keep looking at him. You had to look away, even though it felt like it was tearing you apart from the inside.  

Spencer stumbled, slowing as the train picked up speed, his legs finally giving out beneath him. He collapsed onto the pavement, gasping for air, watching helplessly as the train—and you—disappeared into the horizon.  

He buried his face in his hands, his body shaking with sobs. "What have I done?" he whispered to no one, the words echoing into the empty night.  

You were gone. And Spencer knew, deep down, that he’d just made the worst mistake of his life.  

—

September 2008

You loved your new life. How could you not? You had everything you had once dreamed of—your new position as second in command to the CEO of your favorite designer brand was everything you’d worked so hard for. The thrill of overseeing campaigns, approving designs, and brushing shoulders with some of the biggest names in the industry was exhilarating.  

You’d settled into your new routine as well as anyone could when starting fresh in a bustling city like New York. Moving in with Aubrey Wilkes, the CEO herself, was daunting at first, but she made it easier. Her mentorship was invaluable, and her sharp wit and genuine kindness turned her into a friend as much as a boss.  

Your days were filled with meetings in glass-walled boardrooms, late nights spent poring over designs and strategies, and the occasional glamorous event that kept your calendar full. You had the life you always said you wanted.  

And yet...  

Every single day, Spencer found his way into your thoughts.  

It wasn’t always obvious at first. Maybe it was a book you saw in a shop window that reminded you of one of his recommendations, or a classical piece playing softly in a café that you knew he loved. Sometimes it was the sound of someone’s laugh that carried the same rhythm as his, or the sight of a man at the train station holding a bouquet of daisies like the ones he used to bring you.  

Other times, it was the silence that brought him back. At the end of a long day, when you’d kick off your heels and collapse onto your couch, you’d find yourself wishing you could tell him about your wins and your struggles. You’d wonder how he’d react to the stories you had to tell, imagining his soft smile or the way his hands would flutter nervously when he was excited for you.  

There were nights when it hit harder—when the city lights felt too bright and the penthouse apartment too cold. On those nights, you’d curl up in bed and stare out at the skyline, wondering if Spencer ever thought about you, too. If he regretted what he’d done. If he missed you as much as you missed him.

Because no matter how perfect your new life seemed on paper, a part of you still felt like it was missing. And that part had a name. Spencer Reid.

—

February 2007

It was a crisp evening as the warm glow of the restaurant's candles reflected off the polished surfaces, casting a cozy light over the two of you. Spencer had chosen this place because it was where you first met, a sentimental touch to the holiday of love that made your heart swell. The quiet buzz of conversation and the clinking of glasses provided a soothing backdrop as you both enjoyed your meal, the comfort of each other's presence making the night feel perfect.

You were mid-laugh at something Spencer had said when a woman approached your table, her eyes wide with admiration. "I’m so sorry to bother you," she began, her voice apologetic but earnest. "But that is the most fabulous dress I have ever seen. Can I ask where you got it?"  

Caught off guard, you felt heat rush to your cheeks as you glanced down at the material that clung to your body in all the right places. You smoothed your hand over the fabric, feeling both flattered and shy under the woman’s praise.  

Spencer, noticing your blush, smirked proudly from across the table. His hand reached out instinctively, wrapping around yours and giving it a gentle squeeze. The warmth of his touch grounded you, reminding you that he was there, always your biggest supporter.  

"I–um," you stammered, your voice soft as you tried to find the words. "I made it."  

The woman’s face lit up with genuine astonishment. "You made it?" she repeated, her tone filled with awe. "That’s incredible. You have such talent."  

Spencer’s smirk deepened into a full-blown grin as he interjected, his voice laced with pride. "She’s amazing, isn’t she? I keep telling her she could make a career out of this, but she’s too modest to listen."  

"Spencer," you mumbled, playfully rolling your eyes at him as your blush deepened.  

The woman smiled warmly at the exchange, clearly charmed by the both of you. "Well, if you ever decide to give your talents to the world, give me a call." With a quick admiring glance at your dress one last time, she handed you a business card before turning to rejoin her party, leaving you and Spencer alone once again.  

You stared at the card in your hand, the golden lettering catching the soft glow of the restaurant’s lights. Your heart nearly stopped as you read the name printed at the top—Aubrey Wilkes.  

Your favorite designer.  

The logo you’d admired countless times on magazine covers and in shop windows felt surreal in your grasp. For a moment, you couldn’t breathe, the weight of the opportunity this might represent sinking in.  

Spencer noticed the stunned look on your face and tilted his head, his curiosity piqued. "What’s wrong?" he asked, his tone soft yet concerned.  

You slowly turned the card toward him, your hand trembling slightly. "It’s… her," you whispered, your voice barely audible.  

Spencer leaned closer, his eyes scanning the card before widening in recognition. His lips curled into a delighted smile, the kind that lit up his whole face. "Aubrey Wilkes?" he exclaimed, excitement evident in his tone. "Y/N, do you know what this means?"  

"I…" you began, but words failed you. It felt too big, too unexpected to process.  

"It means you’re amazing," Spencer continued, his voice steady as he reached across the table to take your free hand. "And now someone else sees it too."  

You looked back at Spencer, who was still holding your hand, his thumb now tracing gentle circles over your knuckles. "I told you people would notice," he said, his voice soft but insistent. "You’re incredible, and you should let the world see it."  

Your eyes softened as you gazed at him, a small, grateful smile tugging at your lips. "Thank you, Spencer," you whispered.  

"Always," he replied, his expression filled with a quiet devotion that made your heart flutter.  

The moment lingered between you, the restaurant and its patrons fading into the background as the two of you shared a look that said more than words ever could.

—

April 2007

"Spencer, I’m not going," you sighed, the weight of the conversation pressing heavily on your chest as you leaned back in your chair. His persistence, while well-meaning, was starting to wear on you.  

"Y/N," he began, his tone both patient and pleading, "this isn’t just some casual opportunity. This is Aubrey Wilkes. She gave you her card. She wants to see what you can do. Do you even know how rare that is?"  

You folded your arms across your chest, avoiding his gaze. "I know exactly how rare it is, Spencer. But it doesn’t matter. I’m not going to New York."  

Spencer leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees, his hands clasped tightly as if physically holding himself back from pressing harder. "Why not?" he asked softly, his voice tinged with frustration but also genuine concern. "Is it fear? Because I know you, Y/N. You can do this. You’re more than talented enough."  

"It’s not fear," you shot back, though your voice faltered just enough for him to notice. You stared at the floor, your fingers gripping the edge of your chair. "It’s… it’s everything else. I have a life here. I have a job. I have you."  

Spencer’s heart clenched at your words. He reached out, his hand brushing against yours. "I know, and I love our life together," he said earnestly. "But I don’t want you to look back in ten years and wonder ‘what if.’ I don’t want you to resent me for holding you back from something you were meant to do."  

You flinched at his words, your head snapping up to meet his eyes. "You think I’d ever resent you? Spencer, you’re the best thing in my life. You’re the one who’s always supported me, encouraged me to believe in myself when no one else did."  

"And I’m still doing that," he countered gently. "That’s why I’m pushing this. I can’t stand the thought of you letting this slip away because you’re scared to leave me behind."  

"It’s not just that," you admitted, your voice breaking as tears pricked your eyes. "I don’t want to lose us. What if I go, and everything falls apart?"  

Spencer reached for your hands, cradling them between his. His thumbs traced soothing circles over your knuckles as he looked at you with all the tenderness in the world. "You won’t lose me, Y/N," he promised, his voice steady but thick with emotion. "I’ll be here, cheering you on, no matter where you are. I’d rather see you chasing your dreams, even if it’s from a distance, than staying here and giving up on them for me."  

Your tears spilled over, and you shook your head, torn between love for him and the fear of what leaving might mean. "I just don’t know, Spencer," you whispered, your voice cracking under the weight of your emotions.  

"I do," he said softly, leaning forward to rest his forehead against yours. "I know how much you’re capable of, and I know you’ll regret it if you don’t at least try. And I love you too much to let that happen."  

His words hung heavy in the air, the weight of them settling between you like an immovable wall. You shook your head, blinking back the tears that threatened to spill again. “I’m just—I’m not going. Leave it alone,” you said firmly, your voice quieter than you intended but laced with finality.  

Spencer hesitated, his hand still outstretched as if reaching for you might close the growing distance between you. “Y/N,” he murmured softly, his tone a mix of frustration and desperation.  

“Can we be done with this, please?” you interrupted, your voice trembling but resolute. You didn’t want to cry again, didn’t want to feel like you were fighting with the one person who always understood you.  

Spencer stared at you for a long moment, his brow furrowed, his lips parting as if he wanted to argue further. But then he closed his mouth, his shoulders slumping as he dropped his hand. “Okay,” he said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper.  

The word hung between you, filled with unspoken emotions—disappointment, worry, and love all tangled together. Spencer looked down at the table, fiddling with his napkin as if it held answers he couldn’t find in your eyes.  

You turned your gaze away, your chest tightening as silence settled over the room. It wasn’t the kind of silence that came with comfort—it was heavy, suffocating, filled with everything neither of you was saying.  

And though you had put an end to the conversation, it didn’t feel like a victory. It felt like a crack in something you weren’t sure how to fix.  

—

August 2007

"Who was that?" Spencer asked as you walked back inside from the patio, his brow furrowed slightly with curiosity. He had noticed the look on your face as you ended the call—something between apprehension and surprise.  

You glanced down at your phone, the screen still lit with the call log. "Aubrey," you said hesitantly, tucking the device into your pocket.  

Spencer tilted his head, his interest piqued. "Aubrey Wilkes?"  

"Yeah," you admitted, your tone cautious as you avoided his gaze. "She… uh, she got my number. I don’t know how, but she did." You let out a nervous laugh, brushing a stray piece of hair behind your ear.  

Spencer’s expression shifted to one of intrigue and concern. "And?" he prompted, sensing there was more to the story.  

You took a deep breath, fidgeting with the hem of your shirt. "She asked me to consider coming. Said there’s a spot opening next year—her number two is supposed to leave for another job in Milan."  

Spencer’s lips parted slightly, his eyes searching your face as he processed the news. "That’s… huge," he said slowly, his voice laced with both excitement and hesitation.  

"I know," you said, crossing your arms over your chest. "It’s… it’s everything I dreamed about. She said she’d hold the spot for me if I wanted it."  

Spencer stepped closer, his gaze softening as he tried to read the emotions flickering across your face. "What did you say?"  

"I didn’t say anything," you admitted, looking up at him with wide, uncertain eyes. "I told her I needed time to think about it."  

He nodded, his hands slipping into his pockets as he took a moment to respond. "And… are you thinking about it?"  

You hesitated, your eyes dropping to the floor. "I don’t know," you said quietly. "I told you I wasn’t going. But now… it’s like she’s dangling everything I’ve ever wanted right in front of me, and I don’t know if I can ignore it anymore."  

Spencer’s heart ached at your words, but he forced a gentle smile as he said, “You shouldn’t ignore it.”  

You sighed heavily, the weight of the decision pressing down on you like a storm cloud. "It’s just too much to think about right now," you murmured, walking over to where he sat. Without hesitation, you nestled into his side, your head resting on his shoulder as his arm wrapped protectively around you. The warmth of his embrace was like a balm, soothing the whirlwind of thoughts in your mind.  

"Will you read to me?" you asked softly, your voice tinged with exhaustion.  

“Of course, my love,” he replied without hesitation, his tone tender. He reached for the book he had been reading earlier, adjusting slightly so you could be more comfortable.  

As his calm, steady voice filled the room, weaving through the story’s narrative, you felt your nerves begin to settle. The cadence of his words acted like a lullaby, each one wrapping around you like a warm blanket. Spencer kept reading, even when he noticed your body growing heavier against his, your breathing slowing to a steady rhythm as you drifted off to sleep.  

He paused mid-sentence, tilting his head slightly to glance down at you. You were wearing a sweater you had designed and crafted yourself, the intricate stitching a testament to your talent and creativity. In your peaceful state, with your lips slightly parted and your lashes resting against your cheeks, you looked serene.  

Spencer’s chest tightened as he watched you, a flood of emotions washing over him. He felt an overwhelming admiration for you—for your strength, your brilliance, your passion. But beneath that admiration was a deep-seated fear.  

He didn’t want you to give up this massive opportunity, the one you had dreamed of for so long, the one that could change your life. And yet, he couldn’t shake the gnawing guilt that maybe he was the reason you were hesitating.  

The thought that he might be holding you back, even unintentionally, was almost unbearable. He wanted to be the one who supported you, who cheered you on, who encouraged you to take risks and chase your dreams. But as he held you in his arms, he wondered if his love for you was making it harder for you to leave.  

Spencer pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering there as he whispered into the quiet room, “I just want you to be happy.”  

He knew that when the time came, he would have to push you, no matter how much it hurt. Because loving you meant wanting the best for you—even if it meant letting you go.  

—

March 2008

You and Spencer were strolling through the mall, casually browsing the stores as you searched for the perfect gift for your grandmother’s upcoming birthday. The two of you laughed together as you passed by store windows, debating what she might like—a scarf, a brooch, maybe a fancy tea set.  

But then your steps slowed, your attention caught by something glinting behind a clear glass case. It was almost subconscious, your feet carrying you toward it before you even realized what had drawn you in.  

"Rings?" Spencer asked, his voice soft and amused as he came to stand beside you. His eyes flicked to the sparkling display before landing on your face, a tender smile curling on his lips.  

"Do you ever think about getting married?" you asked suddenly, your gaze still fixed on the rings, their polished surfaces reflecting the light.  

The question caught Spencer off guard. He blinked, his smile faltering for just a second before it returned, gentler this time. "Of course," he said softly, the vulnerability in his tone unmistakable. "Do… do you?"  

You finally tore your eyes away from the display, turning to face him with a grin. Your heart swelled at the look on his face—so earnest, so full of quiet hope.  

"Yes," you admitted, your smile widening as you decided to tease him just a little. "Preferably to a tall, nerdy doctor. But, you know, beggars can’t be choosers."  

Spencer’s cheeks flushed, his lips pulling into a bashful smile as he looked down at you. "I think you might be in luck," he said, his voice laced with warmth and a hint of playful humor.  

"Oh?" you asked, tilting your head and feigning surprise.  

"Yeah," he murmured, his eyes glimmering with affection. "I hear there’s one who’s absolutely crazy about you."  

Your laughter bubbled up, filling the air between you as you leaned into his side. He wrapped an arm around you instinctively, pulling you closer as you both stood there, the sparkling rings forgotten as you focused entirely on each other.  

In that moment, with his arm around you and the warmth of his love so evident, you couldn’t help but imagine a future where one of those rings might be yours—and that future felt a lot closer than you’d ever thought possible.  

—

May 2008  

“Aubrey,” you sighed into the phone, keeping your voice low as you closed the bedroom door behind you. Spencer had finally fallen asleep after hours of tossing and turning, his fever making rest nearly impossible. The last thing you wanted was to wake him now. “I told you I can’t.”  

Unbeknownst to you, the sound of the door clicking shut had stirred Spencer. His eyes fluttered open, confusion washing over him as he realized you weren’t lying beside him anymore. He sat up slightly, his head still heavy with fatigue, and strained to hear your voice coming from somewhere outside the room.  

He didn’t mean to eavesdrop. At least, that’s what he told himself. But the moment he heard Aubrey’s name fall from your lips, his chest tightened, and his focus sharpened.  

“No… no… it’s not that…” Your voice wavered, and Spencer could picture you chewing your thumb nervously—something you always did when you were stressed. “I can’t leave. My whole life is in Virginia… well, no… he told me to go… yes, I know—”  

Spencer’s breath hitched, his heart clenching at your words.  

“I love him, I love my life with him,” you continued, and Spencer felt his chest ache in equal parts relief and guilt. “Obviously… I’m sure it would work, but—” You sighed deeply, the sound heavy with frustration and longing. “My answer is still no. I’m sorry.”  

Spencer’s mind raced as he processed what he’d just heard. He could feel the weight of your words pressing against his chest, a reminder of the sacrifice you were making. He knew he was the reason you were staying. You were giving up your dream for him, and as much as he loved you for it, he couldn’t let it happen.  

Hearing your footsteps approaching, Spencer quickly laid back down, shutting his eyes tight like a child pretending to sleep past their bedtime. He tried to even out his breathing, though his heart raced beneath the covers.  

You slipped back into the bedroom quietly, the dim light from the hallway casting a soft glow as you moved toward the bed. Sliding under the covers, you nestled into his side, resting your head on his chest. Your lips pressed a tender kiss over his heart, and you whispered, “I love you so much, Spencer Reid.”  

Spencer’s chest swelled at your words, his arms instinctively wrapping around you as he fought back the wave of emotions threatening to overcome him.  

As your breathing steadied and you drifted off to sleep, Spencer lay awake, staring at the ceiling. He couldn’t shake the echo of your words—“I love him… he told me to go.”  

By the time sleep finally claimed him, his mind was filled with plans. He had to get you to New York. No matter how much it hurt, no matter how much it scared him, he had to make sure you followed your dreams—even if it meant losing you in the process.  

—

December 2008 – Present

"Reid, are you paying attention?" Hotch’s firm yet concerned tone cut through the fog in Spencer’s mind, snapping him out of his reverie.  

Spencer’s head jerked up, his eyes meeting Hotch’s piercing gaze. "Yes, sir," he replied quickly, his voice steady though his heart wasn’t.  

"Good. Let’s keep it that way," Hotch grumbled, clearly not in the mood for distractions.  

The team was seated around the conference table in the BAU’s jet, discussing the details of their latest case. They were headed to New York, where several women had been drugged and abducted from exclusive nightclubs in the Upper East Side. The unsub’s profile was slowly taking shape, but for Spencer, focusing on the details was harder than usual.  

Even hearing the name New York was like a dagger twisting in his side. It brought with it a flood of memories he had tried and failed to suppress—memories of you.  

He could picture the night you had finally told Aubrey no, the way your voice trembled with conviction when you said you were staying in Virginia. And yet, here he was, sitting on a jet bound for the very city where you were supposed to be building your dream.  

Spencer clenched his jaw, trying to push the thoughts away. This is my job. Focus on the case. He repeated the mantra in his mind, forcing himself to look at the crime scene photos spread across the table.  

But as the jet began its descent into the city, he couldn’t stop his gaze from drifting to the window. The glittering skyline of New York City came into view, and his chest tightened. He wondered, not for the first time, what your life might have looked like now. Would you be walking those streets right now, thriving in a world that had always been meant for you?  

"Reid, thoughts?" JJ’s voice broke through his spiral, and Spencer quickly blinked, realizing the team was looking at him expectantly.  

"Uh…" He cleared his throat, sitting up straighter. "The unsub likely uses a combination of charm and familiarity to gain the victims’ trust. Based on the timeline, he’s calculated and methodical, which suggests he’s not working impulsively. He might be using the same clubs regularly to scope out his targets."  

JJ nodded, taking notes as Morgan chimed in with his own observations. Hotch seemed satisfied that Spencer was back on track, but Spencer could still feel the weight of his thoughts pressing down on him.  

As the jet landed and the team prepared to disembark, Spencer grabbed his bag and fell into step behind the others. He reminded himself that the job came first, that the women out there needed them to be focused and sharp.  

But as they exited the airport and the cold New York air hit his face, Spencer couldn’t help but feel the ghost of what could have been following close behind.  

As the team settled into the precinct, the familiar buzz of activity filled the air—phones ringing, officers shuffling papers, and the hum of conversation about the case. Spencer sat at a desk, his eyes scanning over a map as he worked on the geographical profile. On the surface, he looked focused, but internally, he was at war with himself.  

No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t get you out of his head. The sharp lines on the map blurred as his thoughts drifted.  

Which building do you live in? The question looped through his mind like a broken record. He knew you had moved to the Upper East Side with Aubrey when you first came to New York. But that had been months ago—almost a year, actually. Maybe you didn’t live with her anymore. Maybe you had your own place now.  

And then, more troubling thoughts crept in. Are you being safe? His chest tightened at the idea of you walking these streets, the same streets where women were being drugged and taken.  

Spencer’s eyes darted back to the photos of the nightclubs spread across the desk. He knew it was unlikely you frequented places like these. You’d never been one for the nightlife, always shying away from loud music and crowded spaces. He remembered how you used to fidget at gatherings, instinctively seeking out quieter corners where you could breathe.  

But the thought of you even being near these places, of someone seeing you, targeting you—it made his stomach churn.  

God, I hope you’re safe, Spencer thought, clenching his jaw as he tried to shake the image of you from his mind.  

“Reid, you okay?” Morgan’s voice broke through his spiraling thoughts, pulling him back to the present.  

Spencer blinked, his hands tightening around the edges of the map. “Yeah,” he said quickly, his voice a little too sharp. He cleared his throat, forcing himself to sound calmer. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just trying to piece together the unsub’s movements.”  

Morgan studied him for a moment, clearly unconvinced but deciding to let it slide. “Alright, well, let me know if you need a second pair of eyes.”  

Spencer nodded, returning his gaze to the map. But even as he tried to refocus, his mind kept drifting back to you. He hadn’t seen you in so long, hadn’t heard your voice, hadn’t even been able to convince himself to reach out.  

And yet, here he was, in your city, wondering if you were okay, if you were happy, if you were thinking about him too.  

After spending the day checking out the crime scenes and canvasing the surrounding areas, the team returned to the precinct to deliver their initial profile to the local police. Spencer sat near the back of the room, his hands clasped tightly in front of him as he tried to keep his focus on the case.  

Emily stood at the front, presenting the profile with her usual confidence. "We believe the unsub is targeting wealthy women," she explained, her tone even but firm. "Women who appear successful and independent—CEO’s, CFO’s, designers, singers, dancers, actors, chefs, etcetera. He sees them as trophies, not just victims. He uses their wealth and status to justify robbing them, taking their IDs, and eventually breaking into their homes after he’s done with them. This is about control and power, and his choice of victims reflects that."  

Spencer’s stomach churned as he listened, each word cutting deeper into his already frayed nerves. His mind was no longer on the women they were profiling; it was back on you.  

Every victim they described could have been you. Successful, talented, determined—everything about you fit the profile. You had climbed to the top of your field, a name that carried weight and admiration. You were exactly the kind of woman this unsub sought to dominate, to tear down.  

Spencer swallowed hard, his gaze flickering to the board where photos of the victims were pinned. Each face reminded him of you in some way—the confident smiles, the elegant postures, the undeniable strength that radiated from their pictures.  

He tried to push the thoughts away, to remind himself that you were likely far from this mess, probably tucked away in a luxurious apartment or a designer studio, far removed from the chaos he was immersed in.  

But the fear gnawed at him anyway. What if you weren’t safe? What if you were walking these streets late at night, lost in thought or distracted, completely unaware of the danger lurking nearby?  

Morgan’s voice pulled him back to the moment, but Spencer barely registered what was being said. He felt frozen, paralyzed by the weight of his thoughts and the eerie similarities between you and the women they were trying to protect.  

The briefing ended, and the room began to clear out, officers heading back to their tasks. Spencer stayed seated, staring blankly at the photos on the board. His chest felt tight, his mind racing with all the possibilities he didn’t want to consider.  

"Reid?" JJ’s voice broke through the haze, her expression soft as she approached him. "What’s up with you? Is something wrong?”

He blinked, forcing himself to shake his head. "No," he lied, his voice flat. "Everything is fine."  

But he wasn’t fine. Not even close. Every instinct in him screamed to find you, to check on you, to make sure you were okay. Because no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t shake the thought that this case wasn’t just about catching an unsub—it was about protecting you from a danger he couldn’t control.  

—

You were getting ready with Aubrey and the rest of your group, the energy in the room buzzing with excitement. It was Blake’s 27th birthday, and they had chosen to celebrate with a night out at the clubs.  

The leopard-print dress you wore hugged your frame perfectly, its bold design a gift from Aubrey herself. As you zipped up your deep burgundy leather boots, the rich color catching the light, you couldn’t help but glance at your reflection. The outfit was striking—you felt sexy and confident.  

“Shots!” Kurt’s voice boomed from the living room, drawing laughter and cheers from the group. You rolled your eyes playfully, shaking your head as you finished adjusting your boots.  

“You ready to go, superstar?” Aubrey teased, leaning in the doorway with a knowing smile. She looked impeccable, as always, her outfit radiating confidence and style.  

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” you replied with a grin, standing and smoothing out your dress.  

“Good,” Aubrey said, linking her arm with yours. “Because tonight, we’re leaving all the stress and work drama behind. It’s Blake’s night, and you, my dear, are going to have fun.”  

You laughed, letting her guide you toward the rest of the group. As the music played loudly in the background and someone handed you a shot glass, you tried to push away the unease creeping in. This wasn’t your scene, but for Blake—and with your friends by your side—you’d make the best of it.  

What’s the harm of one night out on the town?

Aubrey, with her effortless charm and impressive connections, had managed to get your group into one of the most exclusive clubs in the city. As you approached the entrance, you couldn’t help but feel a flicker of excitement as you passed the long line of people waiting to get in.  

The bouncer gave your group a once-over before glancing at his clipboard, where your names were already on the list. He nodded to the hostess, who gestured for you to follow her inside. You exchanged amused glances with Aubrey, her confident smirk making it clear she was in her element.  

The energy of the club hit you immediately—a pulsing rhythm of music, vibrant lights reflecting off chandeliers and mirrored disco balls, and the faint scent of expensive perfume mingling with the coolness of the air-conditioned space.  

You were quickly led to a private VIP lounge area, tucked away yet with a perfect view of the dance floor. The sleek leather seating, soft glow of ambient lighting, and low table with a bottle of premium alcohol chilling on ice made it clear this was luxury at its finest.  

As you settled in with the group, Aubrey leaned over with a grin. "Not bad, huh?"  

"Not bad at all," you admitted, finally starting to feel the buzz of excitement that the rest of the group had radiated all night.  

Kurt popped the cork on the bottle with a celebratory cheer, pouring out drinks as Blake laughed and raised their glass. "To the best birthday ever!" Blake called out, their joy infectious as everyone clinked their glasses together.  

You took a sip, letting the fizzy warmth spread through you, and glanced out at the dance floor, watching the kaleidoscope of lights play over the crowd. For the first time in a long while, you let yourself relax, leaning into the moment. Tonight wasn’t about anything else—it was about celebrating Blake, being with friends, and maybe, just maybe, finding some joy in the chaos.  

It wasn’t until later in the evening, as the excitement of the night wore on, that you noticed something was wrong. Analise hadn’t returned from the bathroom in a very long time. At first, you didn’t think much of it—maybe she’d gotten caught up chatting with someone or had taken a phone call. But as the minutes stretched into an hour, unease began to settle in.  

You mentioned it to Aubrey, and soon, the rest of your group was involved, searching the crowded club for her. You checked every possible place she could be—the bathroom, the dance floor, the bar. You even tried calling her phone, but it went straight to voicemail.  

A sinking feeling twisted in your gut as you decided to check with door security. Maybe she’d decided to leave early and hadn’t told anyone. But when you explained the situation, the response you got made your heart drop.  

“She left about 40 minutes ago,” the bouncer informed you, his tone matter-of-fact. “She was with a man.”  

Your blood ran cold. Analise was a married lesbian woman with children. There was no way she would leave with a man.  

“That’s impossible,” you said, your voice shaking. “She wouldn’t… she would never do that.”  

The bouncer frowned, his expression darkening as he realized the weight of your words. Aubrey, ever composed, stepped forward, her voice sharp and commanding. “We need to check the security footage. Now.”  

The staff moved quickly, pulling up the tapes as your group crowded around, watching with bated breath. And there it was—clear as day. Analise stumbling out of the bathroom, visibly dazed, as a man wrapped an arm around her, guiding her toward the exit. You could see her trying to resist, her movements sluggish and uncoordinated, but she was no match for him.  

Your stomach churned as the man led her out of the club. It was clear she’d been drugged and coerced.  

“We’re calling the police,” one of the security staff said, already reaching for his radio.  

The next thirty minutes passed in a blur. The authorities arrived swiftly, questioning the staff and reviewing the footage. Your group, shaken and worried sick, was told to wait outside. When the police finally addressed you, it was to inform you that they needed to take statements from everyone who had been with Analise that night.  

Before you knew it, you were sitting in the back of a police car, the flashing lights reflecting off the club’s exterior as it faded into the distance. Aubrey sat beside you, her normally composed demeanor fractured by worry. The rest of your group was being transported in other cars, but you all shared the same fear: What if it’s too late?  

As the car sped toward the station, you stared out the window, your mind racing with a million thoughts. Analise’s face, her laugh, her stories about her wife and kids—it all played in your mind like a reel you couldn’t stop. You couldn’t shake the feeling that this was your fault, that somehow you should have noticed sooner, should have done something.  

Aubrey reached over, squeezing your hand tightly. “We’ll find her,” she said firmly, though her voice wavered.  

You nodded, but the knot in your stomach didn’t loosen. All you could do now was hope the authorities could act quickly enough. Analise’s life could depend on it.  

Your group was led into a quiet room, far from the noise and chaos of the precinct. The space felt sterile and impersonal, and the tension in the air was palpable as you waited, all of you exchanging worried glances. One by one, your friends were called out by law enforcement to give their accounts of the night’s events.  

You tried to steady your breathing, but your heart sank when one of the officers mentioned that the Behavioral Analysis Unit was on the case. The BAU, you thought, your stomach twisting into knots. That could only mean one thing—Spencer.  

Your mind raced. Please, let him be out in the field. Let him be anywhere but here, you silently begged. The idea of seeing him again, especially under these circumstances, felt overwhelming.  

But then a petite, pretty blonde woman entered the room, her calm demeanor a stark contrast to your spiraling nerves. She scanned the list in her hands before looking up and saying your name with a polite smile.  

You hesitated but stood up, smoothing your dress as you followed her down the hallway. She led you to a small interrogation room, where the walls seemed to close in just a little too tightly.  

“Have a seat,” the woman said gently, gesturing to the chair across from her. She handed you a steaming cup of coffee, the rich aroma filling the room.  

“Thank you,” you murmured softly, clutching the cup between your hands as if it were a lifeline.  

The woman gave you a reassuring smile, her blue eyes warm and steady. “My name is Jennifer Jareau,” she said, her voice calm and professional. “I’m an agent with the BAU, and I just have a few questions for you. You’re not in any trouble; we’re just trying to get a clear picture of what happened tonight.”  

You nodded, swallowing hard. “Okay.”  

JJ leaned forward slightly, her posture open and non-threatening. “I know tonight was difficult, but anything you can tell us might help us find your friend and bring her home safely.”  

You took a deep breath, letting her words settle over you. As much as you were afraid of what this moment represented, you knew you had to focus on Analise. You began recounting the evening, walking her through everything you could remember—how Analise had gone to the bathroom, how long she’d been gone, and how your group had discovered she had left the club with a man.  

JJ listened intently, taking notes but never breaking eye contact. Her steady presence made it easier to keep talking, even as your voice faltered at times.  

When you finished, she nodded thoughtfully. “You’ve been really helpful. Thank you for being so detailed—it makes a big difference.”  

You offered a small, shaky smile. “I just want her to be okay.”  

“We’re going to do everything we can,” JJ said firmly, her voice filled with quiet determination.  

You nodded again, but as she stood to leave, a new wave of anxiety washed over you. What if Spencer really is here? What if he walks through that door next? You weren’t sure you were ready for that moment. Not now. Not like this.  

—

When the call came in about a new abduction, Spencer held his breath, his stomach tightening as a familiar sense of dread crept in. For a brief, harrowing moment, he waited to hear your name. But it wasn’t.  

“Analise Bordeaux,” Penelope said over the phone, her tone efficient but tinged with urgency. “She’s a top-rated journalist for the New York Times. Married, with two kids. Her wife also reported her missing earlier tonight after she didn’t return home at a previously agreed time.”  

Spencer let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, but the relief was fleeting. Another brilliant, accomplished woman was in danger, and the unsub’s pattern was becoming even clearer.  

“Morgan, Reid,” Hotch’s voice cut through the tense moment, bringing everyone back to focus. “I want the two of you to head to the club. Talk to the staff, review the footage, and see if anyone remembers anything unusual.”  

“Got it,” Morgan replied, already grabbing his jacket.  

Spencer nodded, silently falling into step with his partner. The ride to the club was quiet, the weight of the case settling heavily between them. Spencer’s mind wandered, as it often did in moments like this, and despite his best efforts, his thoughts drifted to you. Were you okay? Were you being safe in this massive, chaotic city? The idea of something happening to you gnawed at him in a way he couldn’t shake.  

When they arrived at the club, the music still pulsed faintly in the background as staff cleaned up after the night’s events. The bouncer and several employees were waiting for them, and Derek immediately took the lead, flashing his badge and asking for access to the security footage.  

Spencer scanned the room as they worked, his sharp eyes noting every detail. The club was upscale, the kind of place that catered to high-profile clients, which fit the unsub’s victimology perfectly. He and Derek pored over the footage, watching as Analise stumbled out of the bathroom, her movements sluggish and disoriented. The man who had escorted her out didn’t seem remarkable at first glance, but Spencer’s mind was already analyzing every subtle detail—the way he scanned the room, the calculated calmness in his movements.  

“This guy fits in with the crowd,” Derek muttered, narrowing his eyes at the screen.  

Spencer nodded. “He knows exactly how to stay under the radar. He’s blending in, using the chaos of the club to his advantage.”  

After questioning staff and gathering everything they could from the scene, the two men left the club and headed back to the precinct. The weight of what they’d seen hung heavily in the air between them, but Spencer was unusually quiet.  

“You good, pretty boy?” Derek finally asked, glancing over at him.  

“Yeah,” Spencer lied, his voice quieter than usual. “Just… thinking.”  

Derek didn’t push, but Spencer could feel his partner’s eyes on him. 

When Derek and Spencer arrived back at the precinct, they headed straight to the makeshift conference area where the rest of the team was gathered. The atmosphere was tense but focused, with everyone comparing notes and piecing together the puzzle of Analise’s abduction.  

JJ was finishing up her report on the interviews she had conducted with Analise’s friends. She held a notepad in her hand, skimming through her findings as she updated the team.  

“We have a list of people Analise spent the evening with,” JJ said, holding up the notepad. “Her coworkers and a few close friends all confirmed she wasn’t acting like herself before she went to the bathroom. Said she was dazed, disoriented in the footage—classic signs of being drugged. One of them even mentioned they tried calling her, but her phone’s off now.”  

As JJ spoke, Spencer’s gaze landed on the notepad in her hand. Something about it nagged at him—a sense of urgency he couldn’t quite place.  

“Can I see that?” he asked, pointing to the list of names.  

JJ didn’t hesitate, handing the notepad over with a slight frown of curiosity. “Sure,” she said. “What are you thinking?”  

Spencer didn’t answer immediately. His eyes scanned the list quickly, his brain processing each name at lightning speed. And then he saw it.  

Your name.  

It hit him like a punch to the gut, and for a moment, the room seemed to tilt. His breath caught in his throat, and his grip on the notepad tightened as if he needed to steady himself.  

You’re here.  

“What is it, Reid?” JJ asked, her voice breaking through the sudden rush of emotions.  

Spencer forced himself to look up, his expression carefully neutral. “Um,” he muttered, his voice tight. “I just… wanted to see if anyone stood out.”  

He handed the notepad back to JJ, his hand trembling slightly. He hoped she didn’t notice, but Morgan, standing nearby, narrowed his eyes at him.  

Spencer’s mind raced. He hadn’t seen you in so long, hadn’t spoken to you since the night he let you go. And now, here you were, tangled up in a case involving dangerous predators and a missing woman. He clenched his jaw, trying to suppress the panic rising in his chest.  

“You recognize anyone?” JJ asked, her tone casual as she flipped back through the list.  

“No,” Spencer lied once more, his voice steadier this time.  

But inside, he felt like he was falling apart. Because no matter how much he tried to focus on the case, on the unsub, on finding Analise, one thought overpowered everything else: You were here.  

“What do you think, Hotch?” Rossi started, leaning back slightly in his chair. “Should we let them go?” He gestured vaguely, referring to your group still waiting in the designated room.  

“No,” Spencer said quickly, speaking up out of turn. His voice was firmer than he’d intended, and everyone turned to look at him with raised brows.  

“They’re safer here,” Spencer continued, his tone more measured now. “The unsub might have seen them. If they were with Analise all night, they could’ve been noticed, even targeted.”  

“Reid’s right,” Hotch said, nodding as he turned back to Rossi. “We’ll keep them here until we have more information. JJ, did any of them mention recognizing the unsub from the footage? Or if Analise recently changed anything in her routine that might have drawn attention?”  

JJ gently took her notepad back from Spencer, giving him another curious glance before flipping through her notes. “Uh… yes,” she said, stopping on a specific page. “One of them—Y/N Y/L—mentioned that Analise had just gotten a promotion at work. They went out to celebrate at a new restaurant last Thursday.”  

Spencer stiffened at the mention of your name, doing his best to keep his expression neutral.  

“Alright,” Hotch said decisively. “Let’s bring Y/N back into the interrogation room. She might have seen this man at the restaurant and didn’t realize it.”  

“I’ll go get her,” JJ offered, already rising from her seat and heading toward the door.  

“I’ll come too,” Spencer blurted out before he could stop himself.  

Everyone turned to look at him again, surprise flashing across their faces.  

“May—maybe a second set of ears,” Spencer stammered, quickly trying to justify his outburst. “Um, a new perspective might help.”  

Hotch studied him for a moment, his sharp eyes narrowing slightly as if trying to read Spencer’s motives. Then, with a curt nod, he said, “Fine. Go with her.”  

JJ gave Spencer a questioning look but said nothing, motioning for him to follow her. As they walked down the hallway toward the room where you and your friends were waiting, Spencer felt his chest tighten with every step.  

He hadn’t seen you in so long, hadn’t prepared himself for this moment. And now, he was seconds away from coming face-to-face with the person he’d never stopped thinking about.  

—

You were just starting to lose your patience, shifting in your seat and glancing at the clock for the hundredth time, when the door opened again. The same woman from before, Jennifer, stepped inside with her calm and professional demeanor.  

“Y/N?” she said with a polite smile. “Can we see you again?”  

Your friends exchanged questioning glances, murmuring words of encouragement as you stood. “Good luck,” one of them whispered as you followed JJ out of the room and down the hallway.  

You tried to steady yourself, reminding yourself this was all routine. Just more questions. Nothing out of the ordinary. But as you stepped into the cold interrogation room again, the air felt different—charged, heavy.  

And then you saw him.  

Sitting in the chair across from the table, Spencer.  

Your breath caught in your throat, and the room that had felt icy before now felt like it was a thousand degrees hotter. You froze for a moment, your mind racing to make sense of the sight in front of you. He looked the same, yet different. His hair was slightly longer, his face a little more tired, but those eyes—the same deep, thoughtful eyes you’d once adored—were unmistakable.  

Spencer’s head snapped up as you entered, and for a second, he looked just as startled as you felt. His mouth parted slightly, but no words came out.  

“Y/N,” JJ said gently, breaking the heavy silence. She gestured toward the chair across from Spencer. “Have a seat.”  

You nodded stiffly, forcing your legs to move as you crossed the room and sat down. Your heart pounded in your chest, and you couldn’t tell if it was from nerves, shock, or something else entirely.  

Spencer cleared his throat, his hands fidgeting slightly in his lap. “Hi,” he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper.  

You blinked, your throat dry as you nodded again. “Hello, agent,” you replied, equally quiet.  

JJ glanced between the two of you, her brows furrowing slightly in confusion, but she quickly masked it. “Y/N, we just have a few follow-up questions,” she said, sitting down beside Spencer and pulling out her notepad.  

But it didn’t matter what she said. The only thing you could focus on was Spencer, sitting right there in front of you, as if the years between you had suddenly disappeared.  

The questions started simply enough—where had you and your group gone to dinner? How many people were there? Did anyone stand out or seem to take special interest in you?  

“There was one person,” you said after a moment of thought, tilting your head slightly as you tried to recall the details. “He was a busboy, I believe. But he kept coming by our table to check on us.”  

Spencer, who had been taking notes alongside JJ, immediately perked up at that. “He wasn’t your server?” he asked, his voice calm but focused.  

You shook your head, brushing a stray strand of hair behind your ear. “No, our server was a woman. She was very attentive, but this guy—he kept showing up. At first, we thought he was just really good at his job, but it started to feel… I don’t know, a little strange.”  

JJ leaned forward slightly, her pen poised over her notepad. “Strange how? Did he say anything to you, or was it more about his behavior?”  

“It was mostly his behavior,” you replied, frowning as you tried to piece together the memory. “He’d clear away plates that didn’t really need to be cleared yet, or refill water glasses that were barely half-empty. And every time he came by, he’d linger for just a second too long. It was subtle, but… noticeable.”  

Spencer exchanged a quick glance with JJ before asking, “Can you describe him? Anything about his appearance that stood out?”  

You nodded, your eyes narrowing slightly as you focused on the image in your mind. “He was average height, maybe a little shorter than you,” you glanced at Spencer. “Dark hair, clean-shaven. He had this kind of… intense way of looking at people, like he was trying to figure them out.”  

Spencer scribbled furiously in his notebook, his pen moving so fast it almost blurred. “Do you remember if he wore anything unusual? Jewelry, a watch, anything like that?”  

You paused, biting your lip as you thought. “I… I think he had a tattoo on his wrist,” you said finally. “It was hard to see because of the uniform, but when he reached over to clear a plate, I noticed it. It looked like… a triangle, or something geometric.”  

“That’s good,” JJ said with a nod, giving you an encouraging smile. “That’s really helpful, Y/N.”  

But your gaze shifted to Spencer, who was still scribbling notes with an intensity you hadn’t seen from him before. When he finally looked up, his eyes met yours, and for a brief moment, the weight of everything unsaid passed between you.  

“Anything else you remember, no matter how small?” he asked softly, his voice steady but carrying an edge of something deeper—something that felt almost personal.  

You shook your head slightly. “No, I think that’s it. I didn’t think much of it at the time, but now…” You trailed off, a shiver running down your spine at the realization of how close your group may have been to danger.  

Spencer nodded, his expression unreadable as he set his pen down. “Thank you,” he said quietly.  

JJ stood, glancing at her notes before giving you another reassuring smile. “We’ll follow up with the restaurant and see if anyone knows him. You’ve been really helpful, Y/N.”  

You nodded, rising from your chair, but your eyes lingered on Spencer for just a moment longer before you turned to leave the room. And as you walked back to your friends, you couldn’t help but feel like this encounter had stirred up more than just memories of the night—it had brought something long-buried between you and Spencer back to the surface.  

Before you could reach the room where your friends were waiting, you felt a gentle hand on your arm. The unexpected touch made you stop, turning instinctively.  

There he was—Spencer, standing just behind you, his face filled with an urgency that took your breath away. He looked like he was holding back a storm, his words spilling out before he could second-guess himself.  

“Can I see you before I leave?” he asked, his voice low but rushed, as if afraid you might say no.  

For a moment, you just stared at him, your mind scrambling to process the request. And before you even realized it, you nodded. “Okay,” you said softly, the word leaving your lips almost automatically.  

Relief flashed across Spencer’s face, but he didn’t linger. He simply gave you a small, grateful nod before turning back toward the team. You stood there for a second, trying to collect yourself, before heading back into the room with your friends.  

As soon as you sat down next to Aubrey, she leaned in, her sharp eyes scanning your face. “Was that Spencer?” she asked in a hushed whisper, her voice filled with curiosity and concern.  

You nodded again, unable to bring yourself to speak.  

“Are you okay?” Aubrey pressed, her hand resting lightly on your arm.  

This time, you shook your head. The motion was small, but it felt monumental, like admitting the weight of everything that had just happened. Your teeth sank into your bottom lip, the sharp pressure a weak attempt to distract yourself from the knot of emotions tightening in your chest.  

Aubrey frowned, her expression softening as she studied you. “Do you want to talk about it?”  

You shook your head again, swallowing hard as you tried to push the overwhelming feelings down. “Not yet,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper.  

Aubrey nodded, giving your arm a gentle squeeze. “Alright. But I’m here when you’re ready.”  

You gave her a faint smile, grateful for her understanding. But as you sat there, surrounded by your friends and the low hum of their conversations, your mind was elsewhere—focused on Spencer, and the inevitable conversation that now loomed on the horizon.  

—

Luckily, your information turned out to be exactly what the team needed. With Penelope’s tech skills and the restaurant staff’s confirmation, they were able to identify the unsub and locate Analise.  

The relief was almost overwhelming when the news came in: Analise was found unharmed, aside from the lingering effects of the drugs and the red marks on her wrists where she’d been bound. The man hadn’t had the chance to carry out his full plan—robbing her or doing worse—thanks to the swift intervention of the police and FBI.  

By the time everything was resolved, the authorities had cleared you and your friends to leave that same night. The long hours of tension melted away as you gathered your things, and your group began heading toward the precinct exit.  

You stuck close to Aubrey, practically glued to her side as you wrapped an arm around her waist. Her presence grounded you, the warmth and familiarity of her reassuring after everything you’d been through.  

“Finally,” Aubrey murmured as the two of you reached the doors, her tone light but laced with exhaustion.  

You nodded, tightening your hold on her as you pushed through the glass doors into the cool night air. But as you stepped outside, your eyes darted around instinctively, searching for a glimpse of Spencer.  

And there he was, standing just a short distance away, speaking with Morgan and Hotch. His back was to you, but even from where you stood, you could feel the weight of the moment.  

You immediately turned your head, your arm tightening around Aubrey as you kept moving. You didn’t want to stop, didn’t want to risk Spencer catching sight of you—or worse, calling out to you.  

Aubrey glanced down at you as the two of you walked quickly toward the car. “You okay?” she asked softly, her voice steady despite her own obvious fatigue.  

“Yeah,” you whispered, though your grip on her waist betrayed your nerves.  

As you slid into the car, your heart still raced. The thought of seeing Spencer again—even after everything—left you feeling exposed, vulnerable. And yet, there was a tiny, nagging part of you that wondered what would’ve happened if you’d let yourself stop.  

But for now, you were content to let an officer drive you home, the city lights blurring outside the window as you leaned against the seat, trying to process the night’s events—and the man who still had the power to shake you to your core.  

The incessant ringing of your phone jolted you awake, the sound cutting through the fog of your restless sleep. You groaned, squinting against the morning light as you reached for your phone on the nightstand.  

Your heart skipped a beat when you glanced at the screen. No name was displayed, just a number. But it was a number you could never forget, no matter how hard you’d tried.  

You had deleted Spencer’s contact months ago, telling yourself it was for the best, a necessary step in moving on. But his number was burned into your memory, a string of digits that you could recite as easily as your own name.  

For a moment, you just stared at the screen, your thumb hovering over the answer button. The ringtone seemed louder, more insistent, as if demanding a decision.  

Your chest tightened, and a million thoughts ran through your mind. Why is he calling? What does he want? Can I even handle hearing his voice right now?  

But before you could overthink it any further, your thumb moved almost of its own accord, pressing the button and bringing the phone to your ear.  

“Hello?” you said softly, your voice still heavy with sleep.  

There was a pause on the other end, just long enough to make your heart race, and then you heard it—a voice you hadn’t heard in what felt like a lifetime.  

“Y/N,” Spencer said, his tone cautious, almost tentative. “I… I’m sorry to call so early. I wasn’t sure if you’d pick up.”  

You swallowed hard, gripping the phone tighter. “What’s going on, Spencer?” you asked, your tone carefully neutral.  

He hesitated, and you could practically hear him piecing his words together. “I just… I couldn’t leave New York without talking to you,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “Not after last night. Not after seeing you again.”  

Your heart ached at the vulnerability in his words, but you didn’t respond right away, unsure of what to say. The silence stretched between you, heavy with unspoken emotions.  

“I know this isn’t fair,” Spencer continued, his words tumbling out now, “but… can we talk? Just the two of us? Please?”  

You closed your eyes, leaning back against the headboard as you exhaled slowly. You didn’t know what to say—didn’t know if you were ready to reopen wounds you’d worked so hard to heal. But the sound of his voice, the raw emotion in it, made it impossible to say no.  

“Okay,” you said quietly. “When?”  

“Now?” he asked, his voice tinged with hope and hesitation. “I can come to you, or we can meet somewhere—whatever you’re comfortable with.”  

You glanced at the clock on your bedside table, your mind still racing. “There’s a café a couple of blocks from me,” you said finally, giving him the address. “I’ll meet you there in an hour.”  

“Thank you,” he said, relief evident in his tone. “I’ll see you soon.”  

As the call ended, you sat there for a moment, staring at the phone in your hand. Part of you wanted to crawl back into bed and pretend none of this was happening. But another part—the part that had never really let Spencer go—knew this was a conversation that was long overdue.  

—

November 2004

“Excuse me, miss?” a voice spoke from behind you, polite but a little unsure.  

You turned around, confused, to find a lanky man with slicked-back hair and glasses standing there, looking at you expectantly. He wore an awkward smile, his hands fidgeting slightly as he shifted on his feet.  

“Yes?” you asked, tilting your head, trying to place him.  

“If it’s no bother, we would really appreciate the check. We were just called into work,” he explained sheepishly, gesturing to a man sitting at the table behind him, who was watching the interaction with an amused grin.  

For a moment, you just stared at him, unsure of how to respond. “Um,” you started, your tone hesitant, “I’m sorry, but I don’t work here.”  

The man sitting across from him burst into laughter, shaking his head. “Nice going, Reid.”  

The one who had spoken—Reid, apparently—turned bright red, stumbling over his words as he tried to apologize. “I—I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to assume, I just—your outfit—it looks just like the uniforms the waitstaff are wearing!”  

You frowned, glancing down at your clothes—a crisp white blouse tucked into sleek black slacks. Then it clicked, and a laugh bubbled up before you could stop it. “Oh, wow,” you said, grinning at him. “That’s… actually kind of funny. I designed the uniforms, so I guess I subconsciously dressed accordingly.”  

Reid blinked, his eyes widening behind his glasses. “You designed them?” he asked, his embarrassment giving way to genuine curiosity.  

“Yeah,” you said with a shrug, glancing around the restaurant. “I work for the owner—well, freelance. They hired me to design uniforms that were professional but stylish.”  

“That’s… really impressive,” Reid said, his tone sincere as he adjusted his glasses. “They’re—um, they’re very nice. Clearly convincing,” he added, his cheeks still pink.  

The man at his table laughed again, shaking his head. “You’re lucky she’s nice, kid. That could’ve gone way worse.”  

You smiled, brushing off the comment. “No harm done,” you said, waving a hand. Then, looking back at Reid, you added, “Just maybe double-check next time before you assume.”  

“Noted,” he said, offering a sheepish smile. “And again, I’m really sorry.”  

As you walked away, you couldn’t help but smile to yourself, shaking your head at the interaction. Little did you know, it was the beginning of something much bigger than a misunderstanding over a uniform.  

—

December 2008 – Present  

You sat at the small table in the café, nervously fidgeting with the edge of the tablecloth with one hand while biting your thumb with the other. The café was quiet, the gentle hum of conversation and the hiss of the espresso machine creating a soothing background. Still, your nerves were anything but calm.  

You hadn’t seen Spencer yet, but you felt his presence looming, the anticipation making your chest feel tight. Your mind raced with a million thoughts—what he would say, what you should say, how this meeting would go after all the time that had passed.  

“Excuse me, miss,” a familiar voice interrupted, laced with a soft, teasing tone. “You don’t happen to work here, do you?”  

Your head snapped up, and your lips parted in surprise, only for the tension in your chest to loosen when you saw him. Spencer stood there, looking both nervous and amused, his hands tucked awkwardly into his coat pockets. His hair was slightly tousled from the cold, and his glasses caught the soft glow of the café lights.  

You couldn’t help it—amusement took over as you remembered the very first time he had said those words to you. “Seriously?” you said, a small smile creeping onto your lips. “You’re going to lead with that?”  

Spencer shrugged, his lips curving into a sheepish grin. “I figured it worked the first time,” he said, his voice soft as his eyes flickered to yours.  

Your heart stuttered at the look he gave you, and for a moment, it felt like you were back in 2005, standing in that restaurant, completely oblivious to what the future held.  

You shook your head, gesturing to the seat across from you. “Sit down, Reid,” you said, your tone light, though your voice still carried the weight of everything unsaid.  

Spencer moved carefully, as if afraid to disrupt the fragile moment between you. He slid into the chair, his hands resting on the table, fidgeting slightly with the edge of his sleeve.  

“You remembered,” you said after a beat, unable to stop yourself.  

“Of course I did,” he said softly, his eyes meeting yours. “I remember everything about you.”  

The weight of his words settled between you, and for a moment, neither of you spoke. Then, slowly, you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding.  

“Well,” you said, breaking the silence, “I guess we have a lot to talk about.”  

Spencer nodded, his expression serious but filled with something you couldn’t quite place—hope, maybe? “Yeah,” he said. “We do.”  

And just like that, the conversation you’d both been avoiding for years finally began.  

Spencer folded his hands on the table, his long fingers twitching slightly as though unsure of where to begin. He glanced down at the tablecloth before looking back up at you, his lips parting as if to speak, but no words came out right away.  

You tilted your head, studying him. “You’ve never been one to struggle for words,” you teased lightly, trying to ease the tension that hung thick in the air.  

He let out a breathy laugh, shaking his head. “I guess there’s a first time for everything.” His voice was soft, almost tentative.  

The silence that followed wasn’t uncomfortable, but it was heavy—weighted with years of unanswered questions, unresolved feelings, and all the things neither of you had said when you had the chance.  

Spencer finally spoke, his voice low and earnest. “I shouldn’t have forced you to go.”  

Your heart clenched at his words, the directness of them catching you off guard. You opened your mouth to respond, but he pressed on, his words tumbling out in a rush, as though he’d been holding them back for too long.  

“I thought I was doing the right thing,” he said, his gaze locked on yours. “I thought I was giving you the chance to live the life you deserved, to follow your dreams without me holding you back. But all I did was hurt you. And…” He hesitated, his voice dropping even lower. “I hurt myself too.”  

You blinked, stunned by the raw honesty in his tone. You hadn’t expected him to dive in so quickly, to say the things you’d spent so long wondering if he even felt.  

“Spencer,” you began, your voice wavering slightly, “you didn’t just hurt me. You made a decision for both of us without even asking how I felt. You thought you were protecting me, but you didn’t give me a choice.”  

He flinched slightly at your words, but he didn’t look away. “I know,” he said, his voice thick with regret. “I know I handled it all wrong. I’ve replayed that night a thousand times in my head, and every time, I wish I’d done it differently. I wish I’d just… trusted you.”  

You swallowed hard, the vulnerability in his words stirring something deep within you. “You think I didn’t want to go? That I didn’t think about what it could’ve meant for my career? I stayed because I loved you, Spencer. You were my dream. Not New York. Not Aubrey. You.”  

Spencer’s hands tightened on the edge of the table, his knuckles turning white. “And I threw it away,” he said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper.  

You took a shaky breath, trying to steady yourself. “You didn’t throw it away. You made a choice. We both did. And we have to live with that.”  

He nodded slowly, his jaw tightening as he processed your words. For a moment, you thought that might be the end of it—that he would drop it and let you both walk away again.  

But then he looked up, and his eyes were filled with something fierce, something determined. “I don’t want to live with it,” he said firmly. “Not anymore. Not if there’s even the smallest chance I can fix this—fix us.”  

Your breath caught, your heart pounding in your chest as his words hung between you. You wanted to say something, to respond, but you weren’t sure if you could trust yourself to speak.  

So instead, you just stared at him, waiting for him to keep going. And in that moment, Spencer Reid, the man who rarely hesitated to explain every detail, every fact, every statistic, did something unexpected.  

He waited too.  

The weight of his words hung heavily in the air between you, his eyes searching yours for any sign of hope, for any clue as to how you might respond. You could see the vulnerability etched into every line of his face, the desperation for you to believe him, to give him a chance.

“Spencer,” you began softly, your voice trembling just enough to betray the storm of emotions swirling within you. “Fix us? There is no us anymore. You made that abundantly clear when you kicked me out of my home.”

Your words were sharp, cutting through the fragile hope that had been lingering in the air. Spencer flinched as if you’d physically struck him, his face falling with the weight of your statement. He opened his mouth to respond but stopped, his lips pressing into a thin line as he struggled to find the right words.

“I didn’t—” he started, but then stopped himself, shaking his head. “I didn’t kick you out, Y/N. I thought—”  

“You thought you knew what was best for me,” you interrupted, your tone more firm now as the hurt you’d buried for so long began to surface. “You didn’t even ask me how I felt. You made a decision for both of us and expected me to just accept it. And when I didn’t? When I tried to fight for us? You pushed me away like I didn’t matter.”

“You mattered,” Spencer said quickly, his voice cracking. “You still matter. I—I thought I was doing the right thing. I thought I was protecting you.”  

“Protecting me?” you repeated, a bitter laugh escaping your lips. “You weren’t protecting me, Spencer. You were protecting yourself. You were afraid I’d resent you, so instead, you pushed me out of your life completely. And guess what? It hurt just as much—maybe even more.”  

His shoulders slumped, and he ran a hand through his hair, the gesture so familiar it made your chest ache. “You’re right,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “I was afraid. I was terrified. Not just of you resenting me, but of… of failing you. Of not being enough. I convinced myself that letting you go was the selfless thing to do, but all I did was hurt you. And myself.”

You looked at him, his confession hanging heavily in the air between you. Part of you wanted to lash out, to make him feel a fraction of the pain you’d carried for so long. But another part of you—a part you didn’t want to admit existed—still ached for him, still felt the pull of the man you’d once loved so deeply.  

“You can’t just come back now and expect to fix everything,” you said, your voice softer but no less firm. “It’s not that simple.”  

“I know,” he said quickly, his eyes pleading. “I know it’s not. But I had to try. I couldn’t leave New York without telling you how I feel, without letting you know that I’m sorry—for everything.”  

You closed your eyes, taking a deep breath as you tried to steady yourself. “And what happens after this, Spencer? What are you expecting? That I’ll just forget everything and we’ll go back to how things were?”  

“No,” he said, shaking his head. “I don’t expect that. I don’t expect anything from you, Y/N. I just…” He paused, his voice breaking as he added, “I just needed you to know that I never stopped loving you. Not for a second.”  

Your breath caught in your throat, and for a moment, you didn’t know what to say. The sincerity in his voice, the pain in his eyes—it was all too much.  

But so was the weight of everything that had happened, the scars that hadn’t fully healed.  

“I never stopped loving you either,” you said finally, your voice trembling again. The admission felt heavy, like a weight you had been carrying for far too long, now released.  

“Really?” Spencer asked, his voice barely above a whisper, as if he was afraid to believe it.  

You nodded, swallowing hard. “Well, it’s only been half a year, Spencer. I thought I was going to marry you. That doesn’t just go away.”  

“No,” he agreed, shaking his head slowly, his eyes never leaving yours. “No, it doesn’t.”  

For a moment, the two of you sat in silence, the quiet of the café wrapping around you like a fragile cocoon. The world outside seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you and the raw, unspoken emotions lingering between you.  

Then, Spencer shifted in his seat, his hands fumbling around in his bag as if he were searching for something. You watched him curiously, your heart pounding in your chest as he finally pulled out a small box.  

“What is that?” you choked out, your voice barely audible.  

Spencer held the box in his hand, staring at it for a moment before looking back up at you. “I bought this the day we went to the mall,” he began, his voice soft but steady. “When you asked me if I ever thought about marriage.” He paused, his fingers brushing over the edges of the box as if grounding himself. “When you went into the lingerie store, I went back and bought the ring you were staring at.”  

Your breath hitched, your mind racing. “How did you know?” you whispered, the words barely escaping your lips.  

“I’m a profiler,” he said with a small, almost shy smile. “I know—knew you so well. It wasn’t hard to see which one caught your eye.”  

“It’s—the ring is in there right now?” you asked, your voice trembling.  

Spencer nodded, his expression cautious but hopeful. “Do you want to see it?” he asked tentatively, his fingers tightening slightly around the box.  

You hesitated, your heart pounding in your chest. Then, slowly, you nodded, unable to find the words to say anything else.  

Spencer opened the box, turning it toward you, and for a moment, you forgot how to breathe.  

The ring was simple yet elegant—exactly the kind of style you’d always admired. A delicate band of platinum, with a perfectly cut diamond set in the center, surrounded by smaller stones that sparkled as if they held their own light.  

“Yes,” you whispered, barely audible, your eyes never leaving the ring.  

Spencer’s head snapped up, his brows knitting together in confusion. “What?” he rushed out, his voice filled with a mixture of disbelief and hope.  

“Yes,” you said again, louder this time, your gaze shifting from the ring to meet his wide, questioning eyes.  

“Yes… what?” Spencer asked, his voice trembling, as if he couldn’t allow himself to believe what he thought he was hearing.  

You took a shaky breath, your emotions swelling and threatening to overflow. “I’ll marry you,” you said firmly, the words filling the space between you like a beacon.  

Spencer froze, his lips parting slightly as he processed what you’d just said. For a moment, he looked like he might cry, his eyes glistening with unshed tears as his hand tightened around the small box.  

“You will?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper, full of awe and disbelief.  

“Yes,” you said again, nodding for emphasis. “I love you, Spencer. I never stopped. And I don’t want to waste any more time pretending like I don’t.”  

Spencer’s hands trembled as he reached for yours, his grip warm and steady despite his obvious emotion. “I—I don’t even know what to say,” he admitted, a nervous, breathless laugh escaping him.  

“You don’t have to say anything,” you replied, your voice soft but certain. “Just… ask me.”  

Spencer blinked, his lips curving into the smallest, most genuine smile you’d seen in years. Taking a deep, steadying breath, he slid out of his chair and knelt on one knee, still holding the box open.  

“Y/N,” he said, his voice breaking slightly. “I’ve loved you from the moment I saw you, and I’ll love you for the rest of my life. Will you marry me?”  

You nodded, tears streaming down your cheeks as you whispered, “Yes.”  

Spencer slid the ring onto your finger, his hands shaking as he did so, and when he stood, you launched yourself into his arms. He caught you easily, holding you tightly as you both laughed and cried, the weight of years of pain and longing finally lifting.  

In that small café, with the world around you fading into the background, the two of you found your way back to each other—against all odds, against all fears. And for the first time in what felt like forever, everything felt right.  

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tag list <333 @yokaimoon @khxna @noelliece @dreamsarebig @sleepey-looney @cocobean16 @placidus @criminalmindssworld @lilu842 @greatoperawombategg @charismatic-writer @fxoxo @hearts4spensco @furrybouquettrash @kathrynlakestone @chaneladdicted @time-himself @mentallyunwellsposts @sapph1re @idefktbh17 @gilwm @reggieswriter @loumouse @spencerreidsreads @i-live-in-spite @fanfic-viewer @bootylovers44 @atheniandrinkscoffee @niktwazny303 @dead-universe @hbwrelic @kniselle @cynbx @danielle143 @katemusic @xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx @laurakirsten0502 @geepinky @mxlviaa @libraprincessfairy @fortheloveofgubler @super-nerd22 @k-illdarlings @softestqueeen @eliscannotdance @pleasantwitchgarden @alexxavicry @ill-be-okay-soon-enough @criminal-spence @navs-bhat @taygrls @person-005 

[dvrk-moon]

EAT ME UP - JAKE SIM

— synopsis: in which jake knows you’re bad for him, but he just can’t help himself. after all, in the end, the answer is always you. nobody else matters. not even the guy you’re seeing, his friend, sunghoon.

— word count: 20.1k

— warnings: cursing, cheating, sexual relationships, mental health problems, alcohol problems, no smut but things can get heated, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!

— featuring: sunghoon, heeseung, jay, aespa ningning, a bit of riize wonbin, mentions of zb1 matthew, girl named ella (fictional)

— genre: fwb, angst, bits of fluff, unrequited love, jake x fem!reader x sunghoon

— playlist: sex - eden, fever - enhypen, bad idea right? - olivia rodrigo, why’d you only call me when you’re high? - arctic monkeys, cologne - beabadoobee, heartbeat - childish gambino

— a/n: this is 100% fiction i don’t think jake is/would be a cheater. this was a monster to complete im just glad it’s over with lol

— taglist: @yyawnjun @lovingvoidgoatee @capri-cuntz

i. HOW DARE YOU, BABY

Sweat formed on your forehead as condensation dripped down your cup. The heat of 30 bodies all condensed into a two bedroom house located just off of campus wasn’t anything new— yet this time it felt almost suffocating. The sequins on your red dress scratched against your skin while you lazily danced to the loud music blasting through the house. It was a Friday night. You had to let all your stress from the week out somehow.

As you went to take another drink from the red solo cup in your left hand, your lips were met with only small remnants of the drink you had poured for yourself earlier. You looked into the cup to find nothing remaining. Rolling your eyes, you made sure to motion to your friend, Ningning, that you’d be headed to the kitchen to get yourself another drink. She nodded at you as you walked away.

Ningning wasn’t someone you could consider yourself best friends with. You didn’t have those. However, she was good for coming to parties with; she knew who to talk to and what to say. You always wanted to be closer to the girl, craving an actual bond between you two rather than just a party buddy. She gave good advice, let you stay over at her apartment multiple times, and seemed to actually care for you, even if you weren’t an open book. There had been times in which you’d almost let her in. 

But it never actually happened. Deep down, you knew it’d probably be no good for you anyways.

Strands of hair stuck to the sweat on your forehead as you weaved your way through unfamiliar faces. The noise usually was a comfort for you; more talking from other people meant less listening to your own thoughts. 

The surrounding music and conversations became a blur as you stumbled your way through a hallway that led to the kitchen on the left hand side. As you walked through the doorway, the noises became slightly more quiet.

You put some distance between the entrance to the room and yourself, finding a corner which was relatively empty and hoisting yourself onto the cool countertop. The second your thighs felt the chilliness of the spot, you let out a deep sigh. You glanced around the room for any familiar faces, but you were slightly too intoxicated to really make out anyone relevant. You rested your head against the wall for a few seconds before leaving your spot and walking up to the “bartender” who was manning the makeshift “bar”. He was someone you’d seen in passing a couple times off campus. You couldn’t remember his name, and you weren’t sure if it was because you were drunk or not.

“Hey again,” he smiled at you. This was probably your eighth drink of the night, and even though Ningning nagged on you about your lack of self control when it came to drinking, you always brushed her off. How would she know what’s good for you, anyways?

You looked at him with a half-assed smile before propping your elbows onto the top of the makeshift bar, “Heyyy..” you drawled out, with a hint of flirting in your tone. 

“Back so soon?” He inquired, grabbing some alcoholic drinks from underneath the “bar”. He ran a hand through his raven-colored hair before looking back up at you, “I swore I just saw you ten minutes ago.”

He was a really good-looking guy. You gave him a flirtatious look, “Oh, you know me. Couldn’t stay away for too long.” 

That was a lie. You knew that as the night started, you’d tell yourself “only one drink, to loosen up my mind”. But that never stuck around. You’d get another drink soon after, and as the night went on, there would be less time between each drink. You lost count of what number drink you were on a bit ago.

“You flatter me. It’s a shame, we never exchange much outside of parties. I’ve never met anyone as forward as you,” he laughed, then asking, “same thing as last time?”

You paused. You couldn’t remember what you got last time, and it was only ten minutes ago. Maybe this was your sign to stop for the night.

“Vodka tonic.”

The man nodded swiftly then turned around to make you your drink. Within moments, the drink was ready. You didn’t fail to notice how his hand brushed yours for longer than you expected while he handed you your drink.

“Don’t get sick, sweetheart.”

You playfully rolled your eyes as you got up from your spot, not failing to give the cute bartender a flirty wave as you headed back towards the entranceway to the room.

Before stepping out, you decided that you needed to just drink all of what was just given to you. The clock on the microwave had read 1:08 AM. You had nothing going on later today anyways. You may as well.

“Bottoms up,” you whispered before drinking the whole cup. 

Stepping back into the haze of the crowd, you felt a new wave of warmth through your body, and this time it wasn’t the claustrophobic feeling of being in a group of unfamiliar faces. The alcohol quickly dispersed through your veins and you found yourself back where you’d last seen Ningning. 

She was with a new crowd of people, but she hadn’t left her previous spot. You didn’t recognize a single face of the people who she was with, but as soon as you began to back away to find anyone else, she noticed you from the corner of her eye and introduced you to the group of people.

“Y/N! There you are,” she grabbed your arm and pulled you towards the group of people that she’d found, “guys, this is Y/N, Y/N, these are my friends from my journalism class.”

You were too busy not paying attention to engage in whoever was supposed to be filling the void of conversation. The vodka tonic was still working its magic, so in a quick moment, you were slipping away from the group and telling Ningning something along the lines of “I’ll see you later”. She gave you a confused look but didn’t push.

You found yourself down that same hallway as earlier, but this time you decided to take a right, which led you to a set of stairs. You usually weren’t one for snooping, but what’s wrong with poking around people’s houses every once in a while?

It was eerily quiet as you made your way up the stairs, the ambiance from the party dwindling down with every step you took upwards. At the landing, there was a hallway and three rooms: two bedrooms and one bathroom. 

The hallway was narrow and dark; clearly, the host(s) had no intent of guests going up here. The bedroom at the end of the hallway was shut, and you were 99% sure that it was occupied by two random strangers hooking up. You couldn’t be too hateful, though, because you were also notorious for leaving parties with men you barely knew. Tonight, you weren’t sure if that was a goal you had in mind.

Next to the shut-doored bedroom, there was an unoccupied bathroom. You were surprised that you weren’t currently in there, hurling up every drink you downed tonight.

You finally brought your gaze to the room directly in front of you- it was the last bed room. The door was wide open and the lights were off, but there was a large window with its curtains drawn open despite the time of night. The window gave you a perspective of how late it was; even if the room was not lit by any electric lights, the moonlight was bright enough for you to make out a few items in the room.

Despite you telling yourself not to, you were so drawn in by the window that you ended up venturing into the room. You didn’t bother flipping on any light switches or anything, it would just be a quick peek anyways. 

You wandered around the room a bit, taking note of a messy bed, an old desk, and a body-length mirror. You stopped in front of the mirror for a second to look at yourself. Your makeup was surprisingly still intact given how sweaty you had been the whole night, and your dress had something stained on the bottom of it. Someone probably spilled some drink on it and you had already forgotten.

Shaking your head, you headed to the window next. It was a window seat. You welcomed yourself into the center spot. 

The window had a direct view of the backyard. It was a cold, gloomy night, so there was a lack of presence outside of the house. You pressed your burning cheek against the cool glass and brought your opposite hand to your forehead, cursing yourself. The rush from your last drink was already wearing off. You needed another drink.

You begrudgingly hoisted yourself up from your spot and stood. The doorway looked less enticing with every step. As you walked closer to the door, you caught sight of a figure coming up the steps. You wouldn’t have enough time to leave the room without being caught for snooping. As shit as this party was, you didn’t want to get kicked out.

You did the next best thing and you crouched down right next to the bed, out of sight of the doorway.

The figure quickly entered the room and shut the door quietly before sitting at the foot of the bed, facing the window. If this person turned their head slightly to the left, you’d be spotted. You held your breath.

The person got up and walked to the window seat, not yet sitting down. You got a good look at them, as their face was lit up by the moonlight.

He was around your age, donned in a pair of black cargo pants and a white hoodie. You’d never seen him before. He had a certain curious nature about him, not only because he was unknown to you, but because he was someone was just as passive as you were at this party.

The man let out an exasperated sigh, eyes not once leaving the nighttime view. He took off his sweatshirt to reveal a plain black T-shirt, it hugging his figure nicely as he tossed his sweatshirt just somewhere else in the room. You watched the sweatshirt land with a thud before you brought your attention back to the man, who was now opening the window to let in a cold breeze.

He let in a deep breath before turning his head towards the empty room, or to what he thought was an empty room.

When he’d opened the window, it’d let more moonlight spill into the room, revealing you from your not-so-secret hiding spot. Once he laid his eyes on you, you both looked like a deer in headlights.

“Hello?” He asked, confused.

You cleared your throat, “Hi. I swear I wasn’t stalking you.” You picked yourself up off of the floor, and sent him an awkward look.

“Wait, you don’t need to leave.”

You thought about it before deciding to either leave and go get another drink, or stay and talk to the stranger. You didn’t need another drink. You knew your body could only take so many more until you’d be unable to be conscious of anything. Plus, you always met new men at these parties, and usually ended up leaving with them. What’s the harm in getting to know a stranger rather than having just a one night stand with them?

You sat yourself down on the bed, facing the stranger. A moment of silence ensued before it was broken by him.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you before.”

You nodded, meeting his gaze, “Yeah, me neither. My name is Y/N.”

“Jake,” he returned, positioning himself so he could see you better, “what brings you up here?”

You quickly became defensive, “I usually don’t go and snoop around at parties if that’s what you’re insinuating-”

“No, no, no! That’s- that’s not at all what I meant,” Jake started, straightening himself, “It’s just that when I take a break from a large group of people, I don’t usually expect to find someone else off where I usually hide.”

You gave him an odd look, “Why do you go to parties if you only go hide, then?” You ran your fingers through a section of your hair, keeping your front strong.

“I like parties, don’t get me wrong,” he begins, getting up from the window seat. He closes and locks the window as he continues, “it’s just that sometimes, when I’m dragged to them against my own will, they lose any sort of fun that they have. May I?” He had made his way to the spot next to you on the bed, not yet sitting down because he wanted to test the waters first. You nodded, scooting over to make room for him. He sat down next to you, using both of his hands to lean on rather than sitting normally.

“I understand. I was just up here for that same reason, I guess. Not really,” you admitted, shrugging and then turning to the boy next to you, propping your hand on the bed towards him.

The amount of moonlight in the room had been lessened due to the fact that Jake closed the window, but his features will still well illustrated. He had big, wondrous eyes, and a full set of lips. His hair was long and unkempt- obviously messy from the heat of the party. You felt overdressed for the occasion in his presence, yet in a sense you still had enough pride to wear your skimpy dress even in the cold months of winter. You didn’t fail to notice how his eyes lingered on your lips as you studied him.

Lifting his gaze from your lips back to your eyes, he slowly responded, “Yeah. I know how you feel.”

You licked your lips before leaning in slightly closer to him, “Do you?” His eyes fell back down to your lips as you slightly held a pout after you asked him the taunting question. He let out a shaky sigh as the distance between you two decreased, and you felt his hot breath on your lips.

Jake had brought one of his hands towards your almost-exposed thigh and hovered over it until you took your own hand and placed his right on your thigh. Almost immediately, you grabbed his face and pulled him in for a kiss.

The kiss was hot, messy, and desperate. Jake repositioned himself so he could hold your waist, and you took the opportunity to move your hands to the nape of his neck. He tasted like alcohol, as did all of your hookups. You knew he was bound to be one the second he sat on the bed, but you didn’t mind. You welcomed him with open arms (and legs).

It was intoxicating. Alcohol aside, you felt a strange new feeling bubble in your chest while the two of you were kissing. You pulled him even closer, signaling that you wanted more.

He moved his hand from your thigh to your ass, grabbing it, which caused you to groan into his mouth, only egging him on further.

Moments later, a knock came from the bedroom door, separating you two. He motioned for you to hide on the floor next to the bed (ironically the exact spot he had found you in earlier) while he went to open the door.

He half-heartedly fixed his hair that you’d somehow made worse from when you first found him, straightened his clothes, and opened the door.

“Matthew? What’s up, man?” He greeted. It sounded like the two knew each other.

“Hey, Jake. I just wanted to come in here and make sure no one was getting busy on my bed, because the door was shut. I was mad worried, y’know?” ‘Matthew’ laughed air-headedly, Jake joining in.

“Yeah, I get it. But nah, nothing going on up here! I just needed a break from the noise, you know me,” Jake sent back, to which Matthew laughed and said, “Yeah man, it’s chill. Keep my room safe, okay?”

The two men did some sort of handshake before Jake closed the door again. 

He wasted no time in closing the distance between you two again, asking, “Where were we?”

You slightly pushed him away, giving him a flirty look before crossing your way to the door, “We should probably leave.” You went to open the door, but Jake caught your wrist.

“Are you leaving? Like, the party?” He asked as nonchalantly as possible, but you could hear the desperation seeping through his words. You nodded, finally opening the door for the two of you.

“Oh, okay, cool. See you around, then?” Jake asked as you began descending the steps. You stopped in your tracks and turned around to meet his gaze, “What? Do you think you’re going to stay here? I thought that we had something to finish.”

Jake quickly got the hint as he stumbled (semi-awkwardly) down the steps towards you, following you as you went to find Ningning to tell her you were leaving with a boy. 

You found her figure quickly, still drinking and still surrounded by the group you had last seen her with. When you tapped her shoulder, she quickly whipped around to find you and give you a smile. When she saw Jake, an indecipherable look plastered its way onto her face before she returned her gaze to you and gave you a hug. After the embrace, she whispered, “Be safe. Text me if you need me.”

You gave her a reassuring smile before grabbing Jake’s hand and leading him to the door of the house.

ii. HOURS LIKE MINUTES

That wasn’t the last time you and Jake ended up hooking up, in fact you had seen each other on the regular about a month or so into the endeavor. 

You wanted to say that you knew who Jake was, but that would be a lie. You didn’t know much about him past his name and where he lived, and to be frank, you didn’t really care to. Sure, he was one of the more fun hookups, but after all, he was just a hookup. Nothing more. You assumed he felt the same way. You were terribly mistaken.

A couple months ago, a day or two after your most recent hookup, Jake had told you he wanted to talk to you. You agreed, figuring it was a harmless conversation that needed to be had, about scheduling or him being out of town for a bit.

When you arrived at his house on that fateful day, he greeted you at the front door, looking more cheerful than he usually was when he saw you. You walked in his apartment to find it empty, as usual, and he led you to the couch. 

It started off casual and harmless. You had mentioned wanting to watch a certain movie in passing once, and he had rented it so you could watch it together. You assumed it would be a classic “movie and chill” moment with him. You’d done it before, you wouldn’t be surprised if it were to happen again.

However, as the movie progressed, neither of you had made any advances, which was odd for the two of you. 

Thirty minutes in, nothing.

An hour in, nothing

An hour and a half in, nothing.

Finally, the movie eventually came to an end and still, as expected, nothing had happened.

As the credits rolled, Jake muted the TV and turned to you, “So…? What’d you think?”

You sat there and looked at him. For a good thirty seconds, at that. Saying nothing. Just looking. Jake began to look uneasy, gulping and asking, “Was it worth the watch?”

You finally answered him, “It was good, I guess. Nothing special.”

He looked slightly deflated but still kept up a happy demeanor, “Cool, cool. I thought so too.”

A silence consumed you two as you just looked at him. He was fidgeting, looking anywhere in the room but at you. You’d never seen him this blatantly nervous before, albeit most of the times you’d seen him, you were both intoxicated to some degree. 

“Well,” you started, rising from your spot, “I guess I’ll get going then.”

Jake immediately rose from his spot, surprising you. He seemed anxious, quickly saying, “Why? Do you have somewhere to be?”

“No,” you told him, still gathering your things. You didn’t care if this hurt his feelings, you guys were fuck-buddies and nothing else. There was no time or room for any sort of relationship, nor any activities that could even barely resemble a date.

“Oh… then why are you leaving so soon?”

You stopped packing up the bag you brought over and stared at him before responding, “Jake, you asked me to come over to talk about something with you, and I get here, and what do you do? Put on some damn movie. Well, the movie’s over now, and you still look like you have no intent of even bringing up what you supposedly called me over to talk about. So I’m leaving.”

Jake walked over to you quickly and grabbed your wrist. Out of habit, you pulled it away, telling him that you weren’t in the mood.

“Listen, Y/N. Will you please just sit down and hear me out for like ten minutes?” He pleaded, and when you met his gaze, you sighed but gave in, “Fine. Ten minutes, and then I’m leaving.”

He motioned for you to sit back down, and once you did he followed suit. 

“Y/N,” Jake started. The way he said your name sent chills down your spine. You had never heard him use a voice so serious, not even during sex. No matter how his voice made you feel, though, you made sure to keep a blank face as you listened to him.

“I probably shouldn’t even be doing this, to be honest. But, here goes nothing, I guess. Y/N, I don’t know at what exact point that this happened, but I developed feelings for you. Like genuine feelings. At some point, I stopped caring about the sex and it eventually just started to grow into excitement to see you, make you laugh, or even see you in passing.”

Seeing as you didn’t respond, he continued.

“Those talks we have before and after we hookup are some of my favorite moments. You’re so beautiful, and every single thing you do sends me into a slight spiral because I wonder how I was so lucky to even get a chance to be around you. I don’t even know all that much about you, Y/N, but the fact that we only see each other to hookup drives me crazy. I know this is a lot, but I’m just asking you to please, please give me a chance.”

His face was bright red, and yours had stayed unfaltering. You weren’t stupid, you had some idea of how Jake felt for you, but you never wanted to feed into it. You knew you never saw him that way, and you were hoping he would just never acknowledge it so you could stay the way you two were.

Fate never liked to work out for you, though.

You cleared your throat before grabbing his hand and looking him in the eye, “Jake. You’re a sweet guy, and hooking up with you has been super fun. But I’ve told you before, I don’t really do relationships. And, if I’m being honest with you, I really don’t feel that way towards you.”

He looked as if he was a little boy and you’d just purposefully popped his favorite balloon.

Alas, you continued, “You’re a great guy. But I don’t see you that way. Plus, I’ve told you before- I can’t keep hooking up with people if there’s feelings involved.”

He gulped again. This time, instead of nervousness, he looked like he was swallowing back tears.

“I think it’d be best if we stopped seeing each other.”

You finally dropped the bomb on him, giving his hand one squeeze before dropping it. You grabbed your bag from the couch and slipped on your shoes, making your way out of his apartment. You didn’t have to look back at him to know he was upset.

That day was around four months ago now. Ever since that day, you hadn’t seen Jake, and had no intentions of seeing him.

It didn’t matter what he was up to anyways, you’d been seeing this new guy, Park Sunghoon, from your accounting class. You met a month or two ago after being partnered up for a project with two other people. Any time the group made plans to work on the project together, the other two people always made up some random excuse as to why they wouldn’t be there, so you and Sunghoon became close in a short time period.

Sunghoon was different from a lot of guys that you’d met. He was quiet, introverted, and majorly unreadable. He was an extremely popular guy, but he never let it get to his head. Sunghoon never just talked to talk, he always had something to say that was worth some sort of meaning. He was unbelievably attractive, too, so of course you two hooked up very early on. But what drew you in the most about Sunghoon was that he wasn’t like all your other fuck-buddies. 

For one, you and Sunghoon had established a somewhat friendship before hooking up the first time, rather than just blindly meeting each other while fucked up at a party. Sunghoon wasn’t like the other guys.

Another reason he was different was because he knew his boundaries. He and you both knew when to stop, when to make sure you were treading the line between friends-with-benefits to having feelings, and how to leave you alone just enough to have you feeling the same lust every time you hooked up. Sunghoon wasn’t Jake. Jake never knew boundaries. He was blind and stupid. Sunghoon knew better.

You and Sunghoon had been seeing each other for some time now, but had never actually been to an outing together. You’d met some of his friends; you were quite familiar with Heeseung. He and Ningning had been dating for about a month now, after going back and forth with each other for weeks on end prior to them getting together.

You were supposed to all have met at Heeseung and Sunghoon’s shared apartment at 6:30 PM, and you and Ningning had just arrived at 6:17 PM. She picked you up in her new car, offering to let you be the first person you drove in it. You took her up on the offer, and were even able to make it early to the apartment, which you were grateful for.

As you two unloaded yourselves from her car, you were met with a text from Sunghoon:

sunghoon 💨☺️ : hey are u guys oyw

You quickly sent him one back:

you : yeah

you : walking up to ur apartment’s entrance rn actually 

Within a few seconds, you and Ningning were met with the sight of Heeseung. The boy’s apartment was on the third floor, and he had bounded all the way down the steps to meet you guys at the bottom landing. 

“Hello,” Ningning offered, grabbing her boyfriend’s hand. He said nothing back as he took the two of you upstairs to the apartment, the door already open. 

The next time you peeked at the clock was when you entered the doorway, and it read 6:22 PM. At the sound of you entering, Sunghoon left his bedroom and found you in the living room.

“You’re here early,” he teased, holding you from behind.

“You’re so touchy,” you craned your neck to look at him and found him already smiling at you.

“What, am I not allowed to be touchy with you? You of all people-” you elbowed him lightly to get him to shut up before turning around in his grasp, “I never said I didn’t like it.”

Sunghoon ruffled your hair before returning to his room. It seemed like Heeseung and Ningning had also retreated to his room for the time being, so you followed Sunghoon into his room.

When you walked in, he was putting some papers away into a desk, so you took the opportunity to immediately flop onto his bed. You weren’t worried about how your hair would look. You were only with Sunghoon, and you knew he had a comb laying around here somewhere. 

He quickly made his way to his bed, leaning over you, “You look nice.”

“Thanks, I try.”

He sat down next to your figure and soon also flopped back. You wasted no time in turning towards him and messing with his hair, his ears, any part of his face that was accessible at the moment. Sunghoon kept swiping your hands away, soon getting tired of your antics and grabbing your wrists so you would stop. He evilly smiled at you, getting up so he could pin your hands down to the bed. 

Suddenly, their doorbell buzzed. Sunghoon groaned as he got up from your playful wrestling match and told you to comb your hair before yelling, “Coming!”

You sat up and patted most of your hair down, but got up anyways to find the comb.

“I don’t need to comb my hair,” you mumbled as you took a look at yourself in the mirror. As you turned to look at the back of your hair, though, you sighed in defeat, “okay, never mind, I do.”

You started looking for the comb near his bed, and then his dresser, then near his desk, and you even peeked in his closet. It was nowhere to be found.

Maybe he hadn’t left it in his room? It was probably in the bathroom, which was all the way across the apartment. It was a bother to go get it, but you needed it. You grabbed your phone and small handbag that you’d brought to his room and ventured out into the apartment. From down the hallway, it sounded like the boys and Ningning had let in whoever else was joining you tonight, so even if you went to go get the comb, you’d need to meet them at some point anyways. May as well be now rather than never.

As you made your way into the living room, you saw the figures of Sunghoon, Heeseung, Ningning, and three other people. The three had their backs faced to you, so you couldn’t exactly tell who they were or what they looked like. Your entrance grabbed the attention of everyone, and you waved to the unfamiliar faces that you could see. 

One of them was a boy, you couldn’t remember his name, but you knew you’d seen his face in pictures before. He was Sunghoon’s childhood friend or something along those lines. You would probably be better off not knowing his childhood friend’s name. Sure, Sunghoon was fun to mess around with, but you had to make sure neither of you treaded too closely to the “catching feelings” line.

The other girl looked around your age, maybe a year younger. She was extremely pretty and had a beautiful smile. Her hair was long, black, and it cascaded down her back like a waterfall. You hated to admit it, but you were slightly envious of her. It didn’t matter, though, because you really had no interpersonal relationship. She was just some girl who you’d probably never see again.

The second you caught sight of the third figure, you felt your heart slightly drop. As soon as you made eye contact, you made a point to walk as quickly to the bathroom as you could. Suddenly you really needed that comb.

You trapped yourself in the bathroom for a minute or two, letting every thought you had ram into you like a freight train. You didn’t care that Sunghoon brought friends over. This wasn’t the first time you’d met some friends of his, and it wouldn’t be the last. You didn’t even care that out of all people, Jake was there. You didn’t ever see him that way, and seeing him tonight, after months, definitely wouldn’t change anything.

What you did mind, however, was that Jake and Sunghoon knew each other. Or, even worse, they were friends. You had every intention of never seeing Jake again after you cut things off, and majorly, until today, you were successful. And of course, against all odds, he was going out with you all tonight.

To be frank, you weren’t terrified of the idea of Jake returning to your life; he was a nice guy. You didn’t mind having him around as a “friend” back when you did regularly see him, but it was what went beyond that that drove you away. You were sure he wasn’t too thrilled to see you either.

It would be fine, though. As long as you both ignored what happened in the past, everything would blow over just fine. Plus, there was a chance that the unfamiliar girl was with him. It would be good for the both of you if he had moved on.

Moments later, you were met with a knock on the door, followed by Sunghoon saying, “Everything okay?”

You unlocked the bathroom door and peeped your face through the crack, “All good. Just, uh, can’t find the comb.”

“Hey, it’s okay, I have a spare,” he tried to open the door, but you wouldn’t budge.

“Please let me in my own bathroom.”

This time you complied, shutting the door again after he entered, and he opened up the cabinet above the toilet to find his extra comb. Once located, he handed it over to you, watching you as you combed your hair in the mirror. He started, “All ready?”

You begrudgingly nodded and he exited the bathroom with you trailing behind.

Sunghoon led to you the group that was all now sitting on the couch and chairs surrounding his and Heeseung’s living room coffee table. You scanned the living area for a seat, noting that the only one available was on the other side of Jake. That idea was immediately scrapped. Once you stood next to Sunghoon, he introduced you to the group.

“Everybody, this is Y/N. Y/N, that’s Jay,” he pointed to the familiar boy from the pictures, “that’s Ella,” he motioned to the beautiful girl next to Jay, “and that’s Jake. Ella’s boyfriend.”

You nodded and waved slowly at the new faces, making sure not to pay any mind to Jake at all. It didn’t matter if this action hurt his feelings, he had a girlfriend now. He could go cry to her about it.

“Hi,” you started, “nice to meet you all.”

You finally decided to make eye contact with Jake after saying this, even if it wasn’t nice to meet him again. At least not in this situation. Immediately after locking eyes with you, Jake put his arm around Ella’s shoulder.

Heeseung was the next person to speak:

“Who wants some alcohol?”

The tension around the group began to dissipate when Heeseung got up to get the drinks, leaving his spot next to Ningning open. As you commandeered his spot, Sunghoon trailed behind you to stand behind the couch. He seemed to do that a lot. 

You looked up at Sunghoon, saying, “Someone should probably help Heeseung with the drinks.”

He nodded, and Jay also quickly stood up to join the other two in the kitchen.

This left you, Ningning, and Ella. And Jake. 

The couple quickly engaged in their own conversation before Ningning was able to elbow you in the side and whisper in your ear, “Didn’t you used to hook up with him?!”

You nodded briefly, widening your eyes quickly at the situation. She sent you a sympathetic smile and put her hand on your knee. In the past few months, you’d let yourself become closer with Ningning, which was a blessing for you. Even if you weren’t all that close, you still had her as a friend. It definitely helped that her boyfriend’s roommate was the guy you were seeing.

In a quick moment, Jake also stood up and went to the kitchen to help with drinks. In a sense, you kind of missed him. Sure, you didn’t miss his clingy nature, or the fact that he was the reason that you two fell apart, but he really was a good guy. Of course, there were times when you also missed having him in bed with you.

Ella looked nervous and adjusted her dress — a blue dress — before giving you and Ningning an awkward smile. You doubt she knew about you and Jake, and was probably just an anxious person. Even if she did know, though, it didn’t matter. Because what you and Jake had was in the past.

Ningning broke the silence first, “So, Ella, you and Jake? How’s that going?”

She smiled. God, she was absolutely stunning. You knew your own self value, but she was something else. She looked like the type of girl that beautiful poetry was written about. The blue dress she wore complimented her skin tone and brought out her best features. You had to give it to her, she really knew how to dress to the nines.

“It’s great,” she fawned, taking a peek over at his figure in the kitchen, “we’ve been dating for a couple months now, and he’s just so great.”

“Wow,” Ningning replied, “I’m happy for you guys!”

You nodded, adding, “How’d you two meet?”

“We were at the same party and Jay set us up,” she laughed, “I remember Jay telling me in our physics class that his ‘friend needed a new slate for dating’ and how he knew I was single, so he set us up at a party! I’m really happy he did, too.”

The new slate for dating of course meant you. You had forgotten about Jay and Jake sharing an apartment together, and obviously because of that, Jay knew who you were and what you did to Jake. More like what had happened, but you cursed yourself for forgetting that Jay was someone that knew both Jake and Sunghoon.

“Well, congrats!” Ningning smiled back at her, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear. Ella had turned her back on you two to watch the boys make drinks again, and in that moment, Ningning gave you the biggest “what the fuck??” look you’d ever seen in your life. You simply shrugged in return.

Not long after, the boys returned with drinks, ready for you all to pregame for the night ahead of you. You opted to just do straight Vodka shots with orange juice as a chaser to get yourself going. You watched Sunghoon take a few shots of Fireball before smiling at you and grabbing at your ears. That was a little habit you two had started doing: grabbing each other’s ears to mess with the other. You kind of realized that it could come off as a bit flirty, so you tried to hold back on doing it often, but sometimes it came to you like a second nature.

“Stop touching me,” you whined at him, swatting his hands off your ears. 

“I can’t help it,” he cooed at you, “you just look so cute.”

Here it comes, flirty Sunghoon. It didn’t take very long for him to become tipsy, and when he did, he’d become a flirt. It was flattering, but when you were trying to get sloshed and you had him following you around like a dog, it could become extremely annoying.

You didn’t miss how Jake was watching you and Sunghoon’s interaction, even with Ella sitting right next to him.

Eventually, once everyone had finished pregaming, the Ubers to take you seven to the club had arrived at the apartment. You started grabbing your handbag and as you went to grab your phone, you realized you’d accidentally left it in the bathroom.

“Don’t wait up for me, I’ll just be a second,” you said to Sunghoon and Ningning as you walked to the bathroom to get your phone. The two listened, so once you returned to the living space, you noticed that the only three people left in the apartment were, including you, Jake and Heeseung.

You made a beeline for the door, but Jake was quickly on your heels. Heeseung stayed back to lock up the apartment.

As you descended the steps attempting to avoid Jake, you failed, as he caught up to you and started a conversation, “Hi.”

“Hey,” you replied half-heartedly. Either Jake couldn’t tell that you didn’t want to talk or he simply didn’t care, because he continued:

“So you and Sunghoon, huh?”

He sounded a bit hurt, but you weren’t going to feed into it. You promptly replied, “Yep. You have a girlfriend now, isn’t that crazy? How the times change.”

Jake nodded awkwardly, gulping, and then starting again, “Yeah, she’s cool. She’s not you though.”

You shook your head at him. It was unbelievable how much audacity he had to say that. Especially on the first day of seeing each other again. You cut him off for a reason, you reminded yourself.

“Yep.”

You ended the conversation there as you exited the apartment building, finding Sunghoon on the sidewalk. He gave you a confused look.

“Do you guys know each other?”

You pondered for a second before replying:

“Something like that.”

iii. LIKE A CRIMINAL

Exactly one day later, you found yourself at Sunghoon and Heeseung’s apartment, looking for your fling. You two had made plans to go drive out to see some of your mutual friends, and he was going to meet you at his place, but you had beaten him there.

He had told you where the hidden key was located, because you were notorious for showing up unannounced, and especially in this occasion he trusted you to house sit. Plus, you had expected him to be home in about ten minutes, like he’d texted you.

What you didn’t expect was to see Jake lying on the couch when you walked in. His head immediately shot up when he heard you enter. You gave him an extremely confused look before saying, “I’m just gonna go to Sunghoon’s room and wait for him to get here.”

You sped past him yet heard him say, “Wait, Y/N!”

You paid him no mind as you situated yourself on Sunghoon’s bed, lying down and pulling out your phone to text him:

you : i broke in again 

Within moments, he replied:

sunghoon 💨☺️ : not surprised

sunghoon 💨☺️ : there’s a car accident but im on my way

sunghoon 💨☺️ : it’s looking like it’ll still be 10 mins though i will be speedy for u

you : my hero! 😮😮

You put your phone down and you were met with the sight of Jake standing in Sunghoon’s doorway. As if on cue, you sighed. It’d been a whole one day since you saw him last and he couldn’t leave you alone. It was like your own personal Hell.

You couldn’t deny that he looked really good though. 

Jake approached you slowly and with caution, “Sorry about what I said yesterday. About Ella not being you. It was weird, and I was tipsy, so I’m sorry.”

You raised your eyebrows at the man in front of you. You sat up and tilted your head at him, “You’re.. forgiven.”

He sent you a small smile before pulling up a chair to sit across from you on. You checked the time on your phone before looking back at him. It had to be only about eight-ish minutes until Sunghoon arrived.

Jake spoke next, “It’s nice to see you again.”

You nodded at him, “It’s been a bit.”

He smiled at you, “It’s definitely odd for me to see you with Sunghoon now, but he’s a good guy.”

You shrugged, “I don’t know if you could consider him someone I’m ‘with’ right now, he’s kind of just a fuck-buddy. He’s very sweet though, you’re right.”

“Homie hopping, I see,” Jake teased you from across the room. You hated to admit it, but you did really miss being around him. You’d forgotten how he knew just how to press your buttons, tease you, and make you feel just as annoyed as you did lustful.

You playfully shoved his shoulder from across him.

“I miss us,” you admitted, “not because I’m unhappy with Sunghoon, but having you around was always nice. Sometimes I wish we could go back to the way things were.”

“I feel the same,” Jake replied instantly. It was almost as if he’d been waiting for you to say that. However, before formulating his next sentence, he took a pause. His next sentence was barely spoken above a whisper:

“Maybe it could.”

You furrowed your eyebrows at him. Did he say what you thought he did? 

“What?”

Jake slowly got closer to you, and you felt yourself transported back four months. God, he always knew how to make you feel weak in the knees. Sunghoon did too, but it was different. You had really liked messing around with Jake. 

In the next moment, you could feel Jake’s lips almost on your own. Your heart skipped a beat.

“Maybe it could,” it was barely louder than last time, but this time it rung through your whole body. You found yourself grabbing one of his arms, almost feeding into the past with him.

You two broke apart as soon as you heard the door open. You motioned for Jake to hide behind the bed frame while you went to talk to Sunghoon, as he had just arrived. How ironic.

“Hello, Y/N,” he smiled, ruffling your hair slightly, “did you miss me all too much?”

“Not even a little bit,” you teased, going up behind him and smacking his ass. He immediately whipped around and you slipped away and ran to the living room, laughing.

“You’re such a bother,” he cornered you between the table and the wall, ready to grab you whenever you decided to try and run away.

You screamed as he once again chased you, and once he finally caught you, he picked you up and took you to the couch.

“Get your shoes on,” he ordered, “we should probably get going soon.”

You complied, rising from the couch and patting down your hair, “You’re really good at messing up my hair,” you complained sarcastically from across the room.

“Damn right, I am.”

You slipped on your sneakers and met Sunghoon at the door of the apartment.

“Ready to go?” he asked, to which you nodded.

You both left the building and bounded down to his car outside of the apartment.

As you neared the car, you couldn’t push away the guilt that was eating you alive from what happened with Jake. Sure, you and Sunghoon weren’t exclusive or anything serious, but it still felt wrong in a way. You and Jake were meant to be left in the past.

Around five minutes later, you receive a text:

unknown number : hey

You stared at it, confused, before responding:

you : who is this

The number wasted no time to respond:

unknown number : take a wild guess

unknown number : :)

You rolled your eyes, immediately knowing who it was, wondering how he obtained your number:

you : jake how the fuck did you get my number

You swiftly changed the contact name, then waited for a response. Sunghoon looked over at you, “Are you good?”

Caught off guard, you stumbled over your words, “Yeah, yeah, I’m goo- I’m great. Why wouldn’t I be?” He furrowed his eyebrows at you before turning his gaze back to the road, “You’re a bad liar.”

Suddenly, Jake responded:

do not answer : doesn’t matter

do not answer : i have a question though

You rolled your eyes, typing a response:

you : what

As if on cue, he texted back:

do not answer : what was that earlier

do not answer : in sunghoon’s room

do not answer : and do not fucking say nothing

You silently sighed and then formulated a message:

you : i don’t know, let’s just forget about it

His end went silent suddenly. You chewed your lip nervously, awaiting a response. You didn’t need one, you knew that. But knowing him, he wouldn’t let you have the last word. Especially not in this situation.

About an hour later, you received a final message:

do not answer : can you meet me tonight

iv. A FIRE BURNS INSIDE ME

You knew you were making a big mistake. It was a horrible idea: agreeing to meet Jake in secret. You really didn’t know why you made such stupid decisions sometimes; it was like you were your own worst enemy.

But here you were, at 10pm, quietly knocking on Jake’s apartment door. He had told you that Jay staying with his parents as he went to visit them out of town, and obviously there would be no trace of Ella there. You felt bad for the girl, knowing that you were meeting up with her boyfriend in private. Plus, with the whole bedroom incident earlier, you would need to tread lightly. You were going to make sure that nothing happened.

You waited at the door for another minute before Jake opened it quickly and ushered you in, “I have neighbors who know Ella, so I can’t have them getting the wrong idea if you’re here.”

Right. Funny.

He shut the door behind you quickly, leading you to the couch in his living room. The last time you were on this couch was the last time you ever planned on seeing Jake.

You opted on taking a seat on one side of the couch after Jake sat himself on the other. He smiled at you from his spot, trying to ease your nerves about behind there alone with him.

“Do you want something to drink?” He asked. He knew you well.

You smirked, “A glass of red wine would be lovely.”

He got up from his seat on the couch and quickly made his way to the kitchen. Your eyes trailed his figure before it went out of sight. Taking a deep breath, you checked your phone, a couple messages dancing across your screen.

From Sunghoon:

sunghoon 💨☺️ : no 

sunghoon 💨☺️ : but i can try to work something out

From Ningning:

ningning : okay i can pick you up if you’d like

From an attractive boy in your major:

wonbin park : yea i didn’t understand it either if that makes you feel any better

wonbin park : if you want to we could try to meet up with the professor for help

wonbin park : up to you tho

And from a childhood friend, Jungwon:

jungwon 🚨🚨 : u make such bad decisions y/n 

jungwon 🚨🚨 : if u still lived in town i’d come find u and strangle u idk

Jungwon was really calling you out. You knew he was right, you should probably just leave. 

In the same breath, though, Jake did offer to give you a drink, and to at least be polite, you knew you should stay until you finish it.

Jake made his way back from the kitchen to find you, and he had two glasses of red wine and the wine bottle, both glasses in one hand and the bottle in the other. He placed your glass in front of you onto a coffee table with the bottle nearby and sat down with his own glass.

You took a sip before breaking the silence, “So why did you call me over?”

“I dunno,” he answered, “I feel like we kind of have some catching up to do, I guess. Do you wanna watch something? A romcom, maybe?”

“That’s fine.” You needed the background noise if you were going to talk to Jake anyways. You might go insane if you had to engage in conversation and give him your undivided attention.

For the first half hour of the film, no words were exchanged besides commentary about the plot. Once you two had finished a couple of drinks, the atmosphere lightened up, and you began to converse more freely.

“What do you really think about Sunghoon?” 

A question that Jake asked that had actually stuck out to you amongst his nonsense. You couldn’t pinpoint exactly why this question bothered you so much, but you answered anyways:

“He’s a gentlemen. Great in bed, good friend, pretty funny. Sometimes I could see myself gaining feelings for him, but I seriously doubt that’ll happen. I just can’t go for fuck-buddies, y’know?”

Jake laughed, “I mean, I don’t know. Obviously.”

You rolled your eyes playfully at him before reaching over and flicking his forehead, “Knock it off.”

He made a swipe at your wrist but you’d pulled it away too quickly for him to grab. He slouched in his spot, teasing you while singing, “Sorry..”

You readjusted yourself on the couch before taking your turn to ask a question, “What do you really think of Ella?”

At her name, Jake tensed up slightly. It was subtle, but enough of his body reacted for you to notice.

“Hah.. about that…” he trailed off.

“What? What happened? You guys were literally all over each other yesterday,” you nagged. It was true; Ella was gushing about Jake while she talked to you two, and when all of you went out, they never left the other person’s side.

“We, uh, we’re on a break. Right now, I mean,” he confessed, surprising you.

“What the hell? Why?” you asked, almost accusatory, though you assumed the break happened due to Ella, but you couldn’t be sure. You grabbed the TV remote and paused the movie, wanting to actually listen to his story.

Jake sighed, “I really couldn’t tell you,” he paused, taking a drink of the wine, “it was really sudden. It happened this morning.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry. That really sucks,” you comforted him, scooting closer to pat him on his knee. You let your hand rest there for a couple of seconds, and Jake puts his hand on top of yours.

“Don’t touch me,” you teased, lightly hitting him on the shoulder.

“Don’t touch me!!” Jake mocked you, now going for the side of your neck with a small jab.

“Jake,” you warned, playfully giving him a scowl. At this point, you had sat up on your knees, giving you a better range of motion to attack the man in front of you, and a better opportunity to dodge his attacks.

As you went to try and grab his waist for pressure points, he grabbed your wrists and pulled you closer to him, “Jake….” He mocked, getting in your face to tease you.

The play fighting soon escalated into playful wrestling on his couch, mostly with Jake winning as he was much stronger than you.

At some point, he pushed you a little too hard and you landed with your back on the couch. Because he was holding your wrist at the moment, you took him with you on your small tumble, causing the man to be hovering inches away from your face.

His outer arm was propped up on the couch, caging you into your spot. He was still holding onto your wrist with his other hand. You could smell the wine on his breath, but it was ultimately overpowered by the scent of his cologne. 

That goddamn cologne.

In an instant, you pushed your lips onto his. The kiss was fiery, sloppy, and hot. He tasted like alcohol. You didn’t even care.

Jake immediately leaned further into the kiss, his grip on your wrist loosening almost instantly. You felt him breathe a sigh through his nose, signifying that he had been anticipating, hoping something that like this would happen.

You took this as a sign to continue. You brought your free hand to the nape of his neck, slightly running your fingers through his hair. Jake slightly groaned into your mouth before taking the hand that was holding your wrist and instead bringing it to the side of your face.

The alcohol coursed through your veins as you made your next move. Lust-driven, you pushed Jake slightly in the chest with your free hand and you both sat up, your lips temporarily leaving the other’s. 

As soon as you were both sat normally on the couch, Jake pulled you into his lap, his hands finding your waist. You brought your hands to his shoulders, one hand making its way to his upper back and the other one going to grab for his hair again. 

Jake swiped his tongue on your bottom lip, and you immediately complied, opening your mouth to kiss him deeper. Jake gripped your waist tighter and pulled you closer to him, your bodies now touching. As he pulled you, you felt his bulge in his pants brush up against your lower regions, eliciting a whimper out of you. You pulled onto his hair harder.

Jake’s hands slowly made their way from your waist to your torso, his cold hands slipping under your baggy shirt you wore, giving you goosebumps. 

His breath made you crinkle your nose when you broke apart momentarily, his half-lidded eyes meeting yours. He began running a hand up and down your back, his eyes instead making their way down to your parted lips. Jake took his right hand from under your shirt and gently pushed your hair away from above your shoulder, exposing your neck and a part of your collarbone.

He met eyes with you again while leaning in, looking for your okay. You couldn’t even think straight, you had forgotten how much this man drove you crazy with lust. You just bit your lip and nodded, and he immediately started planting kisses on your neck, slowly bringing them further down your body, towards your collarbone and shoulder. At points, he would find your weak spots and kiss deeper, longer, and he would even suck on the skin. 

You hated that he still remembered you well.

You guys were meant to be in the past.

What the fuck were you doing right now?

You tried getting his attention, though most of the words came out as whimpers because of what he was doing, “Jake… Jake.”

You moved your hands from his neck and back and placed them both on the top of his shoulders, slightly pushing him back. He detached himself from your neck and looked back at you with eyes that you didn’t know could contain that much lust.

“Jake…”

Jake loosened his grip on your torso and dropped his hands back to your hips. His voice was husky as he replied, “Yeah? Is everything okay?” You could still smell the wine on his breath due to the proximity, making a point to remove your hands from his shoulders now.

You gulped at him, looking at him in the eyes with a concerned expression, “No, no. Everything’s not okay.”

He tilted his head in confusion at you, signaling that he wanted you to continue, “What’s wrong, Y/N?”

“Us, Jake. We shouldn’t be doing this. You and I both know this, I don’t know why I even agreed to come here…” you started rambling, taking Jake’s hands off your hips and pulling yourself off his lap. You straightened out your clothes before pacing around his living room, searching for your shoes. You cursed yourself a million times.

“What? Y/N, what did I do?” Jake sounded worried, getting up from the couch and following your body with his eyes. 

You turned to face him, “Jake. You and I both know damn well that ‘this’,” you beckoned between the two of you, “should not be happening.”

“What do you mean?” He started walking towards you, you now scampering away because you found your shoes. You needed to leave as soon as possible.

“Are you kidding me? What do you mean , ‘what do you mean?’? Jake, you have a girlfriend. What the fuck are we doing?” You sighed exasperated at him, slipping your shoes on in a quick manner.

“Fuck,” he said, running a hand through his hair, “fuck, Y/N. You know we’re on a break.”

“That doesn’t mean you should pounce on me at the first opportunity you get!” You emphasized, getting frustrated. “I was stupid for coming over here alone. I’m sorry for initiating anything. We need to be left in the past.”

“We don’t have to be, though!” Jake urged, his voice also raising, “Y/N, I know you’re with Sunghoon, but you don’t have to be. I can treat you right. You- you deserve better.” Jake began slurring his words, the alcohol taking over his speech process.

You looked at him, eyebrows furrowed in anger, “This was a mistake.”

You grabbed all your belongings before quickly exiting his apartment. As you left, you heard Jake calling your name, “Y/N!”

You couldn’t believe yourself. It wasn’t about Ella or Sunghoon. Ella didn’t have a say if she initiated a break with him, and Sunghoon didn’t have a say either; he was just your fuck-buddy after all. 

What it was about was you not sticking to what you told yourself. You and Jake needed to be something that stayed in the past, yet here you just were, making out with him in his apartment, months after breaking things off. You knew better.

You quickly called Ningning, who lived about a couple blocks away. She picked up the phone right as you exited the apartment complex.

“Hello?”

“Hey.”

“Woah, you sound fucked up. Are you okay?”

“I- I don’t know. Probably not. I’m drunk. Can you come pick me up?”

“Where are you?”

You cleared your throat before continuing, trying to formulate this next sentence as best as possible without sounding guilty, even though you were very much guilty.

“I’m, uh, like right near Jake’s apartment building. Like, I’m standing in front of it now.”

Ningning had picked you up from Jake’s apartment before when you used to hook up, especially when you and her had made plans for the following day. She knew exactly where you were. She didn’t give you a physical reaction, but you were sure to hear about it the following morning.

“I’m on my way. Stay right where you are.”

Within a minute or two, Ningning pulled up in front of the apartment building. Once you got in the car, you were met with a crazed look, “You have a lot of fucking explaining to do.”

“I know. I know. It’s not what you think it is, though.” You lied right through your teeth to her. Whatever was happening at Jake’s was about to escalate into exactly what Ningning was assuming you were doing there. You’re glad you stopped it, but the feeling of being pissed off at yourself for even going overpowered any happiness you felt in the moment. You couldn’t even think properly anyways. The wine had taken a bigger toll on you than you’d anticipated.

Ningning started driving towards her apartment in silence.

Suddenly, your phone screen lit up with a text:

do not answer : im sorry

v. MY HEART CRAVES YOU

A week or two later and you hadn’t seen Jake and had no plans to. You still beat yourself up over what happened, sometimes contemplating whether going out was even worth it anymore. You always had that chance of running into him.

But, when Sunghoon invited you to pregame with him, Heeseung, and Ningning before a party, you figured that you’d been celibate from parties for long enough now, and going to at least one wouldn’t hurt. You missed the atmosphere of getting fucked up and not having to think about anything for a bit. It’s what you needed right now anyways.

You found yourself at Sunghoon’s apartment again, waiting outside the door for him to let you in. You chewed on your lip at the situation; Sunghoon had no idea about what happened, but you were terrified it would all come back to bite you in the ass sooner or later. You pushed the thought out of your brain. You and Sunghoon weren’t anything serious anyways.

Sunghoon opened the door and pulled you into his apartment, “Hey!”

You smiled at him almost immediately. Being around him really did ease your nerves, you hated to admit. He looked really good tonight, clad in just a T-shirt and his sweatpants with freshly washed hair.

“Hi,” you laughed, following him to his room, “sorry I’m here early, I tried to take more time getting ready, but I haven’t partied in a couple weeks and I got eager.”

“Why are you apologizing for coming to see me early? I like having you around,” he said as you sat yourself on his bed. He tugged at the top of your ear once.

“Okay, cornball,” you blushed at his words, rolling your eyes playfully at him, “You’re such a flirt.”

“I’m not allowed to flirt with you now?” He questioned you dramatically, “What kind of society do we live in?”

You laughed at his antics as he walked to his closet to pick an outfit for the night. He held up clothes for you, waiting for you to give him either a thumbs up or down depending on your opinion on it.

He ended up settling on a pair of black pants, a white hoodie, and he threw on a basketball jersey over it.

“Never knew you were such an athlete,” you commented, teasing him.

It sounded like Ningning and Heeseung had returned, bringing others with them. Sunghoon pulled you up from his bed and took you to the living room. You were met with the sight of Jay, Ella, and of course, Jake. You weren’t even surprised at this point.

“Oh,” Sunghoon remembered, “I forgot to tell you that Jay, Jake, and Ella are joining us to pregame. I hope you don’t really mind.”

“Even if I did, I don’t think it would really matter.” You half grumbled at him, hoping he wouldn’t pick up on your mannerisms.

You stopped him with you in the hallway, whispering, “Wait, why is Ella here?”

“What do you mean?” He furrowed his eyebrows at you, looking confused.

“I don’t know, someone told me that her and Jake went on a break.”

Sunghoon shook his head at you, “Uh, no. At least as far as I’m aware, they didn’t. I saw them on a date the day after you and I went to go see our friends. They’re with each other basically every day.”

You had to fight every urge to heavily sigh at the moment, “Oh, okay. Weird.”

You were so confused. The day after you and Sunghoon visited friends was the day after the whole incident that drove you away from Jake for two weeks happened. The same damn day, and he was with her the day after. A day long break didn’t make any sense to you. She was happy with him, and you all weren’t in high school. You shook your head at yourself with furrowed eyebrows as you walked back with Sunghoon towards the living room.

You smiled at Ella, who had Jake’s arm slithered around her waist. That poor fucking girl. She had no idea. You couldn’t believe him.

She smiled back at you radiantly. She was so beautiful.

Everyone stood in the living room, but instead of staying there, you all decided to head towards the kitchen to pregame, where there were already drinks out. You grabbed a Twisted Tea as you passed it, immediately cracking it open to drink. You needed the alcohol. The situation was stressing you out more than you’d like to admit. You had to confront Jake.

Around twenty minutes later, you found yourself passing him and tapping his leg. When he turned around, you gave him a look of “you need to talk with me, now.”

You slipped away to the bathroom, no one seemingly noticing your exit. You wanted this talk to be as quick as possible.

About three minutes of waiting later, Jake also slipped into the bathroom. He smiled at you as he walked in. You couldn’t believe his audacity.

“Hey, what’s up?” He asked, walking towards you. You put distance between him and yourself, crossing your arms.

If looks could kill, Jake would be a dead man.

“What the fuck is your problem?” You whisper-shouted, looking at him incredulously.

“Huh?”

“I heard from the grapevine that you,” you forcibly pointed at him, “and Ella were never on a break.”

His eyes widened. You were sure he didn’t mean to get caught, but his look told you everything.

“Don’t think I wouldn’t have found out, Sim,” you spat at him, “you’re actually unbelievable.”

An apology immediately started rushing out of his mouth at you, “Y/N, I’m so sorry. It’s just, I was intoxicated, and- and so were you, and we were alone… you know I’ve always had a thing for you since we met. But- but you’re with Sunghoon now, I know, so I saw it as my only chance.”

“Jake,” you sighed, “I honestly don’t think I can accept your apology. You know better. And you should apologize to Ella instead. I’m with Sunghoon now, and I know we were both drunk, but that can neverhappen again.”

He gulped before you laid the mallet down on him, “Last time we tried this should be evident of that.”

“You’re right.”

You immediately walked past him, opening the door to the bathroom and slipping back out and walking towards the kitchen.

Jake followed you around four minutes later, delaying his arrival to not bring up any suspicions. You made your way to stand between Ningning and Jay, grabbing another drink. 

Seconds later, Sunghoon appeared behind you. He slid his arms around your waist, his cold touch sending a shiver down your spine. You craned your neck to look at him, trying to make eye contact but his eyes were elsewhere. His gaze was honed in on Jake, and if looks could kill, there would be Jake’s blood all over the apartment right now.

Jake averted eye contact and opted to look at Ella. 

Once the pregaming ended, you found yourself in a car with Heeseung, Sunghoon, and Ningning. Heeseung was the designated driver, and you were grateful that you could get sloshed tonight and not have to think about anything for a bit.

Heeseung parked about a block away from the party, Jay parking about thirty feet behind you guys. The walk to the party was surprisingly cold for it being an almost summer night, the weather not missing its chance to brush the cold winds against your bare legs. 

“You cold?” Sunghoon asked, taking a look over at you.

“Maybe a bit,” you admitted, wrapping each of your arms around the other, “it’s fine, it’ll probably be sweaty in there anyways.”

Soon you all reached the party, one by one trailing into the loud house. It was already insanely packed, each corner and crevice of the place having people in it. The music was deafening, and the heat that already made its way towards you was all the evidence you needed that wearing only a dress was a good idea.

Sunghoon grabbed your hand, pulling you through the crowd and towards what you assumed would be the kitchen, or wherever the drinks would be located.

You made sure to grip well on his hand, because every person you tried to walk by somehow ended up not noticing your presence and never moving, causing you to fall behind.

Sunghoon led you into the kitchen, where it was surprisingly less crowded. You still could barely hear even though the music was a room away now. You could also barely see, the lights were so dim that you had to squint to see the faces of those around you.

There were a lot of drinks to choose from, most being put in plastic pitchers with labels made out of packing tape and sharpie. 

You walked over, grabbed a red solo cup, and then made your way towards the pitcher labeled “JUNGLE JUICE” and poured yourself a cup, it almost being filled to the brim.

“Woah,” Sunghoon commented when he saw how full your drink was, “you should calm down with the amount, Y/N. Don’t want you getting sick.”

You looked at him, took a drink, then commented, “I may get sick, I may not. Not the end of the world if I do.”

He gave you a pointed look before asking, “Do you want to go back to the living room?”

You nodded and followed his lead as he parted the way for you. You tried your best to not get separated from him. It wasn’t like you weren’t able to handle being by yourself at a party, but you wanted to get a few drinks in before attempting to be independent.

Half an hour passed and you were on your fifth drink of the night. You weren’t sure how it was physically possible, but after you finished your fifth drink, you wanted another. You needed to forget everything that had happened over the past few weeks, and even if it was for one night, that was okay with you.

You parted ways with Sunghoon once again for the night, beckoning towards the kitchen and telling him that you’d be back soon.

After getting your sixth drink, you had every intention of getting back to Sunghoon. Instead, you found yourself getting intrigued by the outdoors. There weren’t many people outside, only about fifteen, but you figured there was nothing wrong with taking a breath of fresh air for a moment.

Opening the door, you were get again met with the cold breeze, but with all the alcohol running through your veins, you didn’t feel as cold as you did earlier.

You stepped onto the concrete patio and spotted who you thought was a classmate, Wonbin Park. He was sitting by himself in a lawn chair, seemingly observing everyone in the backyard.

You approached him, making yourself seen, to which he waved at you. You stood by his chair and he looked up at you.

“Hey,” he started, smiling at you. You doubted he had drank as much as you, you were sure you looked a mess. He looked fine. Good, even.

“Hey,” you replied, “what are you doing here?”

He laughed at your words, “I’m here to drink and forget about the past week. You?”

“It’s like you read my mind,” you commented.

“Almost like that’s what parties are for,” Wonbin said, nudging your bare knee, “how are you not cold right now?”

“I’ve had a lot to drink,” you admitted.

“I can tell,” he replied, “you should probably not finish that.”

Wonbin motioned to the drink in your hand, now already half empty.

“I’m fine.”

“You don’t look fine.”

As if Wonbin could read your mind, he wasn’t surprised when you gagged, suddenly feeling hot acid rising in your throat.

You ran over to the grass and let a bit of vomit escape your mouth, your eyes watering at the taste.

Wonbin walked quickly over to you, “Let’s get you inside, yeah?”

As he brought you inside, he asked, “Who are you here with?”

You had your hand held over your mouth as you tried not to vomit anymore. Wonbin ushered you to an empty bathroom so you could get sick (mostly) in peace.

“Are you here with Sunghoon?” He asked, worried for you.

You nodded miserably as you hunched over the toilet and let loose. It wasn’t as much as you thought it would be, but you felt disgusting. You knew it wouldn’t be all in one go, your stomach was upset. You’d probably be here for at least twenty minutes.

Wonbin looked at you, “I don’t want to leave you here alone, but I’m gonna go find Sunghoon.”

You offered no response as you continued getting sick in the toilet. The room smelled like alcohol, vomit, and toilet water. The smell alone could’ve made you vomit even more.

A minute later, a familiar figure entered the bathroom and crouched next to you. You were hoping it would be Sunghoon, but by the smell of the cologne which was now mixed in the air, you knew exactly who it was.

You wanted to be mad, but you were too miserable to focus your energy on that. You were just grateful someone would be there to help you while you tried not to die.

He gently pulled your hair back for you, keeping it up so you wouldn’t get sick all over it. 

Jake could be alright sometimes.

He placed his other hand comfortingly on your back, rubbing it, hoping to soothe whatever you were going through. This action was cut short, however, when Wonbin returned with Heeseung, Ningning, and Sunghoon.

Even as loud as it was and as drunk as you were, the way that Sunghoon barked Jake’s surname rang through your mind, “Sim.”

You looked up from your spot to watch Heeseung, Jake, and Sunghoon disappear. Wonbin ushered Ningning towards you, her now taking the spot that Jake once occupied.

“Do you need anything?” Wonbin asked carefully.

You shook your head at him, not being able to speak.

“Okay,” he paused, “please don’t die, Y/N.”

You laughed as much as you physically could at his words, which in reality was a small chuckle, but if you had done any more, you could’ve thrown up all over Ningning. Throwing up in the toilet was enough for you.

Wonbin left. Quickly, Ningning turned to you and asked, “Y/N, why the fuck were you in here with Jake?”

“I-” you slightly turned to her, trying to speak, but failing. You turned your head back to the toilet bowl and hurled some more.

“I don’t know,” you croaked out, as loud as you could, “he- he didn’t bring me in here. Wonbin did. Jake just- he showed up.”

You slurred some of your words together. You couldn’t remember the last time you were this drunk.

Ningning said nothing but hummed at what you said. You didn’t think that she didn’t believe you, but you also weren’t sure that she did believe you.

Ten minutes of hurling later, Sunghoon and Heeseung returned in the doorway of the bathroom. Ningning got up and Sunghoon took her place, “I told you that you were gonna be sick.”

You vomited again.

He placed a hand on the small of your back and rubbed in a circle. You were glad he showed up. His presence made you feel a lot better than Jake’s did.

You stayed there for five minutes before attempting to stand up with the help of Sunghoon.

“Let’s leave,” he said to Heeseung.

Sunghoon laced his fingers with yours as he helped you out of the house. In the time that you’d been throwing up, the amount of people in the house had waned down. It was less difficult to make your way through the crowd now.

Most of the faces blurred as you walked past, but one really stuck out to you. Jake Sim was sitting on a couch with Ella.

His lip had been completely busted open.

You paid no mind to the wind as you exited the house. If anything, you welcomed it with open arms. It semi-sobered you up.

In the process of becoming more sober, you had come to the realization of something:

Jake hadn’t had a busted lip when he was comforting you. 

What the Hell had happened in those ten minutes?

vi. I CAN’T REFUTE MY INSTINCTS

Sunghoon, somehow, had become even more protective of you as of late. You figured it had something to do with whatever happened between him and Jake at the party, and you had your suspicions of what went down, but when you’d asked Sunghoon, he always just tried to ignore the situation. Plus, you didn’t know if he would tell you the full truth anyways.

So, you got the genius idea to confront Jake instead. 

Who were you kidding, it was a horrible idea. But you needed to have your suspicions confirmed, at the very least. So you texted him:

you : jake 

Within seconds, a response came:

do not answer : yo

do not answer : what’s up

You couldn’t believe he was hitting you with a “yo” right now. Was he allergic to social cues?

you : i need to ask you about something

you : can i come over later

you : don’t get any ideas

He took a minute before responding:

do not answer : ig 

do not answer : jays not home rn just come now

you : ok

You left your apartment within minutes. You weren’t exactly eager to see Jake, but nonetheless, you really wanted to know what was up with the party the other night. Even after you suffered through a hangover, you remembered that moment perfectly.

When you arrived at Jake’s apartment building, you chewed on your lip. You weren’t exactly sure why. You knew that nothing would happen, and all that was going to happen was Jake telling you the truth.

At least you hoped.

When you went to knock on his door, it swung open, Jake’s large figure greeting you before you even had a chance to register what was happening. He stepped to the side and let you walk in. You only made your way to further down his entrance hallway; you wanted to be in and out of here as quickly as humanly possible.

Jake trailed your figure and met you at the end of the hallway. He stood directly across from you and mirrored your body language as he leaned against the wall and crossed his arms.

“So,” you started, not wanting to waste any more time.

“So.”

You sighed, “I need you to be completely transparent with me, Jake.”

He gave you a pointed look, “What’s the problem?” He didn’t seem all too thrilled that you were here for once, which was a genuine surprise for you. You didn’t fail to notice how his lip was still busted, so you went ahead and bit the bullet:

“What happened to your lip?”

The question was simple, it could be chalked up to a friend having concern for another friend. But it wasn’t. You weren’t even really friends, and your only concern was the reason behind the busted lip. Not the person suffering the blow of it.

Jake’s gaze faltered slightly and you almost missed it. He swallowed quickly, “Nothing. I just hit it on something.”

“Bullshit,” you snapped back, “that’s bullshit and we both know it.”

“Why do you even care?” He pushed, his annoyance at you now becoming prevalent.

You rolled your eyes but had to think for a second. Why did you care? You didn’t care about Jake’s lip, you could give less of a fuck. You desperately needed to know about why it happened though. And why Sunghoon had suddenly flipped a switch. You weren’t stupid, you obviously knew something went down. But you needed your suspicions to be confirmed at the very least.

“You’re hurt, Jake,” you lied through your teeth, “anyone with eyes can see that your lip is fucked up. I care about whether you’re hurt. And I have a feeling it has to do with Sunghoon,” you paused, “and I’m sure you know that I should know what happened. But he hasn’t told me anything.”

You finally looked at him again, “Which is why I came to you.”

Jake sighed, running a hand through his hair. You knew you’d cracked him. It was almost too easy. You just hoped what he admitted was the full truth.

He licked his lips before speaking, “You’re right. This,” he motioned to his busted lip, “does have to do with Sunghoon. There. You happy now?”

So you were right. You desperately needed to know the details, though. You didn’t give up that easily.

“Jake.”

“What?”

“What happened between you guys?”

He let out another sigh, then pursing his lips to fight a scowl. He laughed a bit to himself before clearing his throat:

“We fought.”

You weren’t shocked. Between Sunghoon’s newfound behavior and Jake’s altered physical appearance, you assumed that was what happened. However, you feigned shock so he could continue.

“Yeah, I know, right? Funny. Good guy Sunghoon tried to beat the shit out of me,” he laughed through the pain, a look of discontent in his eyes.

“Why… why would he do that?” You mustered out. You scared yourself sometimes with how well you could act.

“You tell me.”

Your words temporarily genuinely got caught in your throat, “W- what?”

Jake tilted his head at you, “He’s your boyfriend.”

“Jake, you already know that he refuses to tell me anything about this. Plus, he and I aren’t dating anyways.”

“Really,” he commented passive aggressively, “because for someone who isn’t dating you, he was really protective over me helping you. While you were throwing up, mind you.”

“Huh?”

It started to click. The appearance of Jake, followed by the appearance of Sunghoon, Sunghoon barking Jake’s name, them leaving, and Sunghoon coming back, alone. And, of course, the busted lip.

“Yeah. Your little not-boyfriend was mad that I was your knight in shining armor for once, not him,” he scoffed, “and he told me to back off.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. Said he has suspicions about me or some shit like that.”

You laughed at his words. Of course Sunghoon had suspicions about Jake. You would have suspicions too if you were him. 

“What’s funny?”

You attempted to return to normal, “Nothing, nothing. It’s just- Jake. You really can’t be mad about him having suspicions.”

Jake paused and chuckled while running a hand through his hair once more, “Yeah, he’s not wrong for having them, I guess.”

You rolled your eyes playfully at him before becoming a bit more serious, “Okay. Well, uh, I’m sorry about, y’know, that,” you motioned to his lips, “and- and thank you. For helping me all those days ago. And for being honest with me.” You gave him a genuine smile.

“Yeah, of course, uh, I’ll see you around then?” Jake said as you started walking towards his apartment door. 

“Maybe,” you left him hanging, and as you were going to pull the door open, you turned to face him one last time as he waved bye to you.

Pulling the door open, you turned around, ready to leave. Instead, you ran into a tall figure, who was clearly trying to enter while you were trying to exit. So much for trying to go to see Jake unnoticed.

The man you ran into was none other than Jay.

vii. LIKE A FEVER

You weren’t surprised. You really weren’t.

Of course Jay would tell Sunghoon that you were at Jake’s. Of fucking course. And honestly, after the conversation you and Jake had about how Sunghoon felt about you two, you didn’t blame Jay for narcing. You did kind of resent him for it, though, because jumping to conclusions never ends well. 

Plus, the situation had absolutely nothing to do with Jay. He should have just butted out while he was ahead.

When Sunghoon arrived at your apartment the morning following the Jay incident, you expected it to be a pleasant visit. Not whatever he was doing right now.

As soon as you let him in, he stormed past you into your living room. You tried to grab his arm but he just shook you off.

You shut the door and turned back around. He looked tense. You knew this wasn’t going to end well.

You shyly followed him into the living room, not entirely sure why you were cowering at the moment. You wanted to chalk it up to the fact that it was Sunghoon, but you were never this nervous about confrontations with fuck-buddies. It was weird.

When he reached the couch, he sat down and motioned for you to sit on the chair adjacent to it. Sunghoon ran a hand across his face and groaned.

“Y/N,” he breathed out, obviously irritated.

You looked at him, “Sunghoon…”

He scoff-laughed, “Do you want to explain yourself to me?”

“About- about what?” You asked. You weren’t dumb, but that doesn’t mean you wouldn’t play dumb for the time being.

“Don’t fucking play dumb, Y/N,” Sunghoon spat at you, “okay? Do not play dumb.”

“I can’t explain myself if I don’t know what you want me to explain.”

He sighed. You were right. You could tell he hated when you were right, because you’d cornered him into expressing his anger. Men never seemed to like to talk about their feelings.

“Okay,” he sighed, once more, exasperatedly, “Do you wanna tell me why you were at Jake’s yesterday? Alone?”

“Who told you that? Was it Jay? Because he doesn’t know the full story-”

“It doesn’t matter who it was, Y/N! You need to explain yourself!”

He stood up at his last sentence and looked at you incredulously. You tried to get him to sit back down and calm his nerves, “Sunghoon, sit down, please. It’s not what you’re thinking, at all.”

Ironically, it was what he was thinking, but the one time that you two were caught was the one time that it hadn’t been anything weird. He was wrong, but in the same breath, he was also right.

“No, damnit, Y/N,” he said, “I’m not going to sit!”

“Sunghoon,” you replied, now standing, “it’s not at all what you think it is.”

“Really?” He asked, aggravated, “Then fucking tell me what it was.”

You stepped closer to him, now also getting frustrated, “I’ll tell you exactly what it was if you would just listen.”

“Oh, I’m listening, alright.” He said, staring at you with a fiery gaze.

“Okay. Then just hear me out,” you replied, trying to calm yourself, “I went to Jake’s apartment to ask what had happened between you and him the other night. When I was getting sick, and-”

“You have got to be fucking kidding me, Y/N,” he groaned, looking at you with a snarl, “you could have just come and asked me what the fuck happened! You didn’t need to go to him!”

“I fucking tried that!” You yelled at him, “You wouldn’t tell me anything! Have you forgotten somehow?!”

“It doesn’t matter, Y/N,” he breathed out, still angry, “you shouldn’t have gone to him in the first place.”

“I wouldn’t have,” you started, “I wouldn’t have, if you would’ve just, I don’t know, been honest with me?!”

“Y/N,” he started, “I don’t think you understand what’s really happening here.”

“Stop. Stop right now. You think I’m stupid,” you commented, flailing your arms around, “you think that I don’t understand whatever the fuck is happening. I don’t want to play this game anymore, Sunghoon. The game where you know everything and I’m not allowed to know anything. And if I find out on my own, I ‘don’t even really understand’. At least, according to you.”

“That’s not what I’m saying-”

“No. Stop. Leave my apartment,” you looked him in the eyes, “I don’t want to do this,” you motioned between you two, what you were referencing pretty obvious to him, “anymore, if you’re going to play this stupid fucking game. I’m done.”

“Y/N, come on. Don’t be like this.”

“Leave. I don’t want to talk to you right now. We can talk once you’re ready to try and listen to me for once,” you ordered, pointing to the door, “leave, Sunghoon.”

You didn’t watch him exit your apartment. Once he was gone, though, you made sure to lock the door. You leaned against the door, pulling your phone out of your back pocket, and opening the messaging app.

This time you didn’t care if it was a bad idea.

you : me and sunghoon broke things off

Within seconds, Jake started typing a response, so you turned off your phone and ran a hand across your face. If Sunghoon was really worried about Jake, now, if anything, you had to spite him and rub it in his face. Jake was still attractive. Jake would take you back. You guess it was just bound to happen.

Three minutes later and no response despite the typing bubble still being there. You began to give up hope, until he follows you up with an answer:

do not answer : come over

You arrived at Jake’s apartment with record time. You didn’t care if Jay was there, or if he would show up at some point, because now that you and Sunghoon were on a break (or whatever it was) you had free reign to do as you pleased. Even see Jake.

When Jake opened the door, his eyes immediately lit up at your figure. You looked a bit like a mess, but he didn’t seem to care.

You couldn’t lie, the stress made you look disheveled, and you were wearing probably the trashiest outfit you owned. Jake didn’t seem to mind as he pulled you into his house.

He led you down the hallway, “Jay’s not here. I figured you wouldn’t care, though, because who is he going to tell now?”

You laughed at his words and followed him into his bedroom. His laptop was seated on his bed, open, because he’d been doing some work, assumably. He moved it further to the wall, then walking and shutting the bedroom door before sitting down. He beckoned for you to do the same.

You tucked a piece of hair behind your ear before sitting down next to him. You made yourself comfortable on his bed before speaking:

“Sorry about the sudden text.”

He furrowed his eyebrows at you, “Why would you be sorry? It’s not your fault that Sunghoon is an ass.”

You smiled at him, “You don’t even know what happened and you’re already taking my side.”

He leaned closer to you, “Ah, Sunghoon is always an ass. That has nothing to do with you or your situation.” 

He gave you a look, then continued, “What even happened anyways?”

“Oh, yeah, right,” you said, adjusting your seated position to face him better, “uh, it’s so dumb. Sunghoon got mad that I came over the other day and accused me of cheating or some shit. He wouldn’t even listen.”

“See,” Jake exclaimed, “he is an ass!”

You giggled at his words, grateful that he was there to make you feel better. It took a lot for you to ignore how the situation was really making you feel, but having something to distract you mattered more right now.

“It’s so funny,” you replied, “the fact that the reason I was even here was because of him. I even told him that! He doesn’t ever want to listen to me.”

You groaned, dramatically throwing yourself backwards onto Jake’s mattress.

He copied as you did and commented, “He’s an ass. Like I said.”

��It’s whatever. It doesn’t even matter now, I don’t want to talk to him,” you covered your face in your hands, “just thinking about him is pissing me off.”

“I get it,” he said, now suddenly sitting up, “I know how you feel.”

You sat up too, “What really bothers me is that he and I aren’t even exclusive. So even if you and I did fuck, there shouldn’t be an issue.”

You rolled your eyes at the situation.

“I mean…” Jake trailed off, treading lightly with his next choice of words, “now that you’re not exclusive… or there are no ties… there isn’t an apparent issue.”

You looked at him with widened eyes and a slight smile, “You sneaky son-of-a-bitch. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were trying to have sex with me!”

Jake leaned over and moved his computer onto the ground. When he came up, his face was mere inches from yours.

He took a hand and brushed your hair away from your face. His touch sent chills through your body. 

He licked his lips, “And if I didn’t know any better, I’d think that you agreed to come over here for a real reason.”

You smirked at him, leaning in to meet his lips in the middle. His hand flew to your waist and pulled you closer to him. His touch was needy, but in your moment of desperation, you’re sure yours was too. Jake deepened the kiss and pulled you onto his lap.

Maybe this was what was meant to happen. If Sunghoon really wanted to paint you as a villain for coming to Jake’s, maybe you should become the villain. 

What’s wrong with a little fun, anyways?

viii. A SCAR LEFT IN ME

That night, you ended up staying at Jake’s place, no surprise. He always left you shocked with how much you missed having him in bed and as a friend. Sure, he wasn’t Sunghoon, but he’d have to do.

Two weeks and a some more hookups later, you’re sitting in Jake’s apartment kitchen. He was cooking something, and you were sat on the counter, watching him. In the time that you’d made yourself comfortable at Jake’s, you’d had more than a few run-ins with Jay. There was no doubt that he knew that you and Sunghoon had broken things off, but still seeing your presence obviously made him slightly upset. He refused to acknowledge you.

As if on cue, Jay walked into the apartment, not greeting either of you. He made a beeline for his room and slammed his door shut. 

“What’s crawled up his ass?” You commented, kicking your feet.

“I don’t know, he’s always in a bad mood when you’re here.”

“Understandable,” you said, thinking about Ella suddenly, “it probably makes him mad that he knows you’re cheating on Ella with me.”

For the past weeks, Ella really hadn’t made an appearance in your mind. A part of you felt bad, but you didn’t really care. If she was all that special, Jake wouldn’t have cheated on her.

“No, that’s not it,” he replied, looking up from the stove, “we broke up. He didn’t even like her all that much anyways.”

This was news to you. Sure, now that you’d thought of it, you hadn’t heard any news of Ella recently anyways. But you’d just assumed it was because Jake didn’t want to talk about his girlfriend to the girl he was cheating on her with.

“You guys broke up?” You hopped down from the counter, facing him with your whole body, “since when?”

“Like, a week and a half ago,” he explained, returning his eyes to the food he was making.

You thought of all the possibilities that could follow you asking the next question, but decided to go ahead and ask it anyways:

“Why?”

“Y/N,” he started, “you know it’s because of you. Even beyond having sex, it’s only ever been you. Ever since we met at that party.”

You took a step away from him, slowly. There was no way this was happening, again. You felt stupid for letting this happen, but you didn’t want to lose Jake as a friend. If you couldn’t look past his feelings last time, you definitely couldn’t look past them this time.

“Jake,” you said, “you know that this isn’t going to work like that.”

Jake turned the stove off and faced you, “What do you mean?”

“Come on, Jake. I couldn’t be with Sunghoon because of you, and I can’t be with you because of him.”

“What are you saying?”

“I couldn’t be with him because of you. He didn’t like us together.” 

“Yeah, but he’s out of the picture now,” he commented, stepping towards you.

“No, Jake, I-” you stopped yourself. Jake was right. Sunghoon was technically out of the picture now. So what was holding you back? No matter what you tried to think of, your mind always came back to Sunghoon. All of this nonsense made you think that maybe, some time, you had accidentally treaded too closely to the “more than friends” line with Sunghoon. This terrified you.

“It doesn’t matter,” you continued, “you were happy with Ella! Why would you mess that up for someone who you know it won’t end well with?! You’ve tried this before, and you didn’t succeed. Why would you now think that it would be anything different?”

He walked closer to you, almost cornering you to a wall. You swallowed deeply and braced yourself for whatever he would say next.

His words came out breathy, “I want you to ruin me, Y/N. Ruin my ideas about love, about what love is. Ruin me, so that even when I do get hurt like I inevitably will, and I go running back to Ella, all I can think about is you.”

You gulped, and he leaned in closer to you.

“You drive me into an absolutely uncontrollable desire. And, trust me, I have tried so hard to see her the way that I see you, feel the same desire. But, it’s only ever been you.”

He finally steps back from you, keeping his face straight, but you could see traces of desperation behind his gaze.

You cleared your throat, walking away from him and towards the living room where your keys and bag were.

As you walked down his hallway, he trailed behind you.

“Y/N…” he said softly as you grabbed the doorknob to leave.

“I need some time to think about this, Jake.”

Later that night, you found yourself still obsessing over Jake’s words. It was absolutely astonishing to you; how the man could be pushed away from you so many times but come crawling back for more. Even when he had a girlfriend. His feelings for you were probably genuine, and some parts of you wished that you could feel that back for the boy. He deserved someone to love him. You didn’t think that someone would be you.

You let your mind wander back to Sunghoon. At this point, you’d almost accepted defeat. You’d broken the one rule of being friends-with-benefits: catching feelings. And to make matters worse, you’d broken things off with the first man you’d had genuine feelings for in years. You were really good at messing things up for yourself.

Suddenly, your thoughts are interrupted by a call. The caller ID read “sunghoon ☺️💨”. Your heart jumped.

You don’t know what possessed you to answer so quickly, but you soon found yourself answering the phone and putting it to your ear.

“Hello?” You answered, attempting to sound as unimpressed as possible.

“Hey, Y/N,” he said, obviously at least a little stressed, “I thought about what you said, y’know, two or so weeks ago, and I’d like to talk to you. Can I come over?”

“Only if you’re coming over to apologize,” you snarled, “otherwise fuck off.”

You hated how upset you quickly became, but from the reminders of Sunghoon’s actions two weeks ago, and the mix of emotions you felt towards Jake since this morning, you allowed yourself to be consumed in frustration.

It only takes ten minutes for Sunghoon to reach your apartment. Once let in, he immediately embraces you, catching you off guard.

“Woah,” you said, your voice muffled by his figure.

“I’m sorry.”

His apology felt like the gates of a dam being opened, because it was as if in that second, you’d come to clarity. About everything.

“I-” you tried, but nothing came out of your mouth, “it’s okay.”

“I was mad, and I was stupid, and I- I should’ve listened to you,” he said, not letting go of your figure. You hugged him back, running a hand down his back, “It’s okay, Hoon, it’s okay.”

You pulled away from him, getting his attention, “Let’s go to my room, yeah? We can talk there.”

As you sat down on your bed with him, you let your guard down. He was really fucking upset, anyone could see that. Sunghoon grabbed your hand as he continued, “Y/N, I’m so sorry. I ruined something good, I know. I’m just asking for you to forgive me.”

You rubbed your thumb over his finger as you tried to lighten the atmosphere, “Why the sudden change of heart?”

Sunghoon chuckled a bit through the tears forming in the corners of his eyes. He knew you’d already forgiven him, your body language was obvious. He laid his head on your lap, facing downwards.

“I fucked up,” he said, his voice muffled.

“What did you fuck up, Hoon?”

“I broke the one rule.”

“Turn over, I can’t hear you,” you said as you ran your fingers through his hair.

He rolled, his eyes now looking at yours. You brushed some hair away from his face gently. You could still see the tears brimming in his eyes.

“I broke the one rule.”

“What rule?”

“Of being fuck-buddies, Y/N.”

Your heart dropped at the words.

“I-” he choked, taking one of his hands to grab your own, “I have feelings for you, Y/N. Like real, genuine ones. I can’t risk losing you again.”

In a moment, everything from the past months had all came crashing down onto you.

“Okay,” you said, “I feel the same way. But I think I need time.”

You loved Sunghoon.

ix. I’M NOT A MONSTER

You and Sunghoon stayed together for the rest of the night, enjoying the other’s presence as you basked in all that you could from the lack of the previous weeks.

When you woke up the next morning, you smelled breakfast being made. God, this man really was willing to do anything to get you back. Your heart swelled.

You walked to the kitchen, letting yourself smile at the occurrence. You really had missed Sunghoon a lot.

As you approached him, you tried to be a quick as possible, not wanting to waste any more time of being away from him. Damn him, you really did like him. How could you have been so blind to your feelings before?

Once you reached him, you whispered, “Hi.”

He turned to the right to look at you, letting a smile form on his face, “Good morning, beautiful.”

You flushed at his words, “It’s 9am and you’re already being a flirt.”

“Can’t help it,” he replied, turning back to the food, “do you want some eggs? They’re almost done.”

“I’m okay, thank you though,” you said, tilting your head at the man, “I think I’ll just have a bagel or something.”

He nodded and you turned to your small pantry to find the bagels. Sunghoon turned off the stove and plated the eggs, taking a bite.

Suddenly, the doorbell buzzed.

“I’ll get it,” Sunghoon said, placing down his plate onto the counter. You didn’t mind that he was answering the door, he’d done it before. You wanted to find where the bagels were anyways.

You heard the door open, followed by Sunghoon’s voice ringing out a name that pierced through the air:

“Jake.”

Your heart dropped. What the fuck was he doing here? You told him that you needed time. Does he ever listen? You slowly made your way to the door.

“Oh, hey…” Jake cleared his throat, “Sunghoon. What, uh, what are you doing here?”

Before anything could unfold, you made yourself seen by the two men.

“Y/N!” Jake exclaimed.

“Oh, hi, Jake,” you walked your way next to Sunghoon, “what’s up?”

“I just…” he trailed off, glancing between you and Sunghoon, “wanted to ask you something real quick.”

“Oh,” you said, “you can come in.”

You led Jake to the living room and Sunghoon closed the door, speedily following behind you two. You could tell that he wasn’t thrilled that Jake was here.

An awkward silence consumed the room. It seemed that whatever Jake had on his mind, he wanted to say it one-on-one. In order to get it over with as quickly as possible, you turned to Sunghoon and suggested, “Sunghoon, would you mind finding the bagels for me really quickly? Just for a minute so we can talk.”

He scowled at Jake before turning away to walk to the kitchen. You watched him make his way to the pantry, not missing how he turned back to look at you and Jake once more. You sent him an apologetic look.

Once out of earshot, you lowly said, “Jake, what are you doing here?”

“Uh, sorry,” he explained, “I wouldn’t have come if I knew he was gonna be here.”

You rolled your eyes, “Jake. What do you want?”

“There’s a new restaurant that just opened downtown,” he started, tilting his head at you, “I wanted to see if you would go with me.”

You sighed, “The offer is really sweet, but I told you that I needed time, Jake.”

“I can’t do that,” he huffed, laughing in pain, “you know that. I can’t stay away from you. You drive me crazy.”

“Jake…” you trailed off, looking back at the kitchen. Sunghoon was holding a bag of bagels, staring daggers into Jake.

“You should leave,” you commented, turning back to him, “you can just come over to talk later. When Sunghoon’s not here.”

“Okay,” he said, peeking at Sunghoon, “okay.  I’ll let you know when I’m headed over.”

“Okay,” you nodded at him, leading him to the door, “bye, Jake.”

You shut the door and returned back to the kitchen. Sunghoon was putting your bagel into the toaster, so you went to the fridge to grab out some cream cheese.

Sunghoon was the first to break the silence.

“I don’t like when you two are together.”

You faced him, cream cheese in hand. You set the item down on the counter and stalked your way over to him, touching his arm.

“I don’t feel anything for him, Hoon.”

He furrowed his eyebrows at you, hinting at disbelief.

“Not anymore.”

He nods, turning to face you. He clears his throat, “I understand that, Y/N, but he obviously feels differently for you.”

“I realize that,” you commented, looking away.

“I really want to be with you, Y/N. And, I know that you need time, and I’ll give you all the time that I can for you.”

You nodded, looking back at him.

“But,” he started, getting more serious, “I don’t want him to be a part of your life anymore. He doesn’t know how to control himself.”

“I know,” you admitted, pursing your lips, “but I don’t know how to let him down easy.”

Sunghoon was right. Of course he was. But you were being genuine; if Jake wasn’t going to let up weeks ago, he wouldn’t let up now. Especially because he thought he was so close to having you.

The toaster popped, and you walked over, letting your hand drop from Sunghoon’s arm.

“I’ll do what I can.”

x. IS IT FATE THAT EVEN OUR DEPARTS REPEAT?

You were agonizing over Jake coming over. It was the worst idea ever, but this time you would put an end to everything. The thought of that only soothed your nerves slightly.

When Jake arrived at your apartment, you let out a breath that you didn’t realize you’d been holding in.

“Hey,” you breathed out, opening the door for him.

“Hi,” he said, walking into your home, “everything okay?”

You two walked your way to the living room where there were some drinks laid out for you two. You’d laid out wine again, but this time as a nerve soother rather than something to cause an escalation of actions.

“Yeah, I think.” You said, sitting down on a chair. Jake sat on the couch, the seat closest to you.”

“You think?” Jake questioned, smirking at you.

“Yeah, I don’t know,” you admitted honestly. You took a breath in, “I’m just stressed out, I guess.”

You grabbed your glass of wine from the table and took a drink, watching Jake do the same.

“So,” he started, placing his wine glass down, “what’s up with Sunghoon being here this morning?”

“Oh,” you said, shocked at his bluntness of the topic. He’d just got there and was already getting down to business. You ran a hand through your hair, “I don’t know, we kind of made up. It’s a touchy topic right now.”

“I see,” he commented, taking another drink of his glass of wine, “I’m not sure if I should be happy for you or upset for myself.”

You cleared your throat, “Jake, it really has nothing to do with you.” You took another drink of wine before looking back at him.

“Really, because as I recall, you guys broke it off because of me,” he raised his eyebrows at you.

“Yeah, we did,” you looked at him with confusion, “but us getting back together has nothing to do with you.”

“So what you’re saying is,” he got up and walked towards you, “Sunghoon is afraid of what I can do.”

You also stood up, challenging him, “I wouldn’t say afraid,” you cocked an eyebrow at him, “more so he’s not dumb.”

“Oh, but he’s so dumb,” Jake titled his head at you, a flirty pout appearing on his lips, “because if he wasn’t, he wouldn’t have left your apartment today. Now, I get you all to myself.”

God damn this man.

In a rush of lust, he pushed his lips on yours, grabbing your waist. You melted into the kiss, wrapping your arms around his broad shoulders. It was absolutely intoxicating.

Jake broke the kiss and held your face close to his, “He can’t make you feel special like I do, baby.”

He returned to your lips, tilting his head to deepen the kiss. He tucked a piece of hair behind your ear, slightly tugging it unintentionally.

Just like Sunghoon does.

You separated yourself from Jake almost instantly, removing your arms and backing away. His hands were still on your waist, but you grabbed his wrists, “Jake.”

“What’s wrong, baby?”

“Jake, don’t call me that,” you sighed, “we can’t do this anymore. Seriously.”

He loosened his grip on your waist, and you let go of his wrists. He scoffed, “What? Is it because you’re back with Sunghoon now? You guys aren’t even dating. I thought your bond was no-strings-attached.”

“It was,” you said, “it was. But- but now, I have feelings for Sunghoon. Like real, genuine feelings.”

Jake flared his nostrils. It was subtle, but you still noticed.

“I want to be with him.”

Jake turned his head to the side. A blanket of silence was thrown over the room. The tension was extremely thick, it could be cut with a knife.

A minute later, you heard a voice whisper out, “Am I not good enough for you?”

“What?”

“Y/N, you know I’d do anything for you,” he turned back to you, now louder and more frustrated, tears brimming in his eyes. His face was flushed, “but you never give me a fucking chance to prove it.”

“Jake,” you tried deescalating the situation, “I’ve never felt anything for past lust. You know this. This is the same story as when you tried this months ago, and when you tried this yesterday.”

He said nothing.

You continued, “I can’t keep giving you false hope. You deserve someone who can actually love you. That someone is not me.”

He gulped, once again staying silent. The tears in his eyes became more prevalent. The silence lingered for many minutes too long, the atmosphere becoming more and more suffocating at the second.

“I would do anything for you,” he croaked out, “I don’t think that will ever change.”

His anger had dissipated for now, and he was fighting back a frown.

“I can’t-” his voice cracked, “I can’t stand knowing that you’re not mine, or worse, the fact that you’re with Sunghoon. Every single fucking time I see you with him, I feel like I’m being punched in the gut.”

“I’m sorry,” you swallowed, still processing his words. You knew Jake felt strongly about you, but you had no idea it was this strong. You let yourself be quiet for a second before finding any words to reply with, “I really don’t know what to say.”

He laughed a painful laugh, “…but being punched in the gut never killed anybody.”

He wiped at his eyes, furrowing his eyebrows once more, “I wish that I could spit in your face and tell you that I wish we never met.”

You felt yourself hurt at his words.

“But I know that would be a lie.”

Another silence fell.

“It’ll always be you, Y/N.”

You shook your head slightly, feeling tears brim at your own eyes. You were devastated that you were going through this a second time, but somehow this time, it hurt way more than the first.

“Jake…” you sent a sad look to him.

“My door is always open. For you.”

You felt yourself gulp at his words, finding any strength possible to push away any feelings you had at the moment.

“You should probably leave…”

“Okay,” he accepted, whispering. He walked to your apartment door and you followed him.

“Stay safe, Jake.”

He left. You shut the door, locked it, and immediately leaned your back to it and slid down. Deep down, you knew you’d always have a spot in you that cared for Jake. You had grown fond of him in a platonic way.

But that was the problem. He couldn’t just shut out his feelings for you.

Drowning out your guilt was impossible as felt a large weight make its way onto your chest.

xi. IN THE END, THE ANSWER IS ALWAYS ONLY YOU

It’s been four months since that day.

You’d seen Jake around, a couple times at campus and very rarely at group hang outs.

He always sent you an awkward smile, and you knew deep down that seeing you had killed him many times. Anyone could tell that he never looked at his new girlfriend the same way he looked at you.

The atmosphere around each other was always tense, but because you’d promised Sunghoon, Jake wasn’t really a part of your life anymore.

Sunghoon and Jake’s bond had definitely changed. They didn’t seem like friends anymore, if anything it was a more formal relationship. They acknowledged each other’s presence, but even with the new girlfriend, Sunghoon hadn’t let down his guard with Jake.

In a sense, you missed Ella. She deserved a lot better, and you always agonized over how her absence was your fault. Obviously, Jake had a play in it, but you left all the blame for yourself.

In the past months, you’d felt yourself have a shift in behavior. It was odd, having realized that you’d become more open and caring about the relationships in your life. Ningning had told you that “not having the nonchalant front anymore” looked good on you.

You’d let yourself get a lot closer to her. She was now your best friend, always helping you through your mental struggles and rooting for you. She made sure to be there for you all the time, and she was ecstatic about you and Sunghoon making up.

Sunghoon had asked you to be his girlfriend about three months ago, and you had never been happier to had let your guard down to the man. He made you feel special, and you never once regretted your decision of choosing to keep him by your side rather than Jake.

Jake had stayed the same majorly. At least from what you could tell. His new girlfriend was nice enough to you, but you didn’t really think that he was happy with her. It seemed that he was just trying to fill the void that you’d left in him.

And the most ironic part:

His girlfriend looked strikingly similar to you. She was beautiful, of course, but her personality and appearance had almost mirrored yours completely. Her personality was more similar to the one that you’d had before, the nonchalant, doesn’t-care-about-anyone, slight asshole. Contrary to you, however, she never left his side.

Even with her around, you knew the truth.

Jake’s words still forever rung in your mind:

“It’ll always be you.”

a/n : rrrrrrraaaaahhh it’s done

[from-the-coffee-shop-in-edoras]

“All your words are but to say…when the men have died in battle and honour, you have leave to be burned in the house, for the men will need it no more.” – Éowyn

We all love this line, where Éowyn is really giving it to Aragorn over the unjustness of her exclusion from battle with imagery that is jarringly evocative. But what if she isn’t just painting a powerful rhetorical picture but is referencing the life of an ACTUAL WOMAN: Aerin of the House of Hador and kinswoman of Húrin (seen in the Silm/Children of Húrin)? What if Éowyn’s language is letting us know that these stories and legends of First Age communities of Men are still alive and well in Third Age Rohan’s oral history traditions?

I love this idea, which made its way to me from @outofangband (who shares a love of Aerin but also knows WAY more about her than I ever will!♥️). For those who don’t know, Aerin lived in Hithlum and was forcibly married to the Easterling leader Brodda after Hithlum fell in the Nirnaeth. She suffered greatly but didn’t let Brodda’s abuse stop her from secretly aiding the remnant of her people who were living then as beggars and thralls. Túrin eventually came to make a bloody mess of it all (as is Túrin’s way) and ran off with many men of Aerin’s community after stirring the Easterlings to wrath. Then Aerin, among the women left to deal with that wrath, lit Brodda’s hall on fire and perished in the flames. Sound familiar???

I simply can’t read Éowyn’s words now without thinking that she knew the story of Aerin and had it in mind as she spoke to Aragorn. There’s already some evidence the Rohirrim are familiar with the history of First Age humans even as they don’t know much high elven lore (I refuse to accept that they got the name “Haleth” by coincidence!), and this seems like an even more direct and natural connection, especially because the Rohirrim are distantly related to Aerin’s Hadorian people.

The thought that the Rohirrim have songs and oral poetry – their means of “documenting” and transmitting history – about these First Age figures is lovely to me. Tolkien makes such a big deal out of how much the elves and Gondorians love and revere lore, how they have libraries full of texts, etc., while positioning the Rohirrim as less sophisticated in comparison (they’re called “unlearned” and Aragorn suggests they barely remember things that pre-date the founding of Rohan itself!). They’re treated as though their lack of books and the fact that they don’t happen to be interested in the exploits of the Númenoreans or the Noldor means that they’re ignorant of everything or don’t care about history at all. But that’s not true!!

They’re absolutely invested in and take care to preserve the history THAT MEANS SOMETHING TO THEM. And what is that? Well, it’s not Fëanor or Tar-[Insert King Here], but apparently it is Haleth and Aerin – women who found different but equally impactful ways to lead their people and resist oppression. And for those to be stories that resonated in Rohan enough to be remembered and passed on from generation to generation makes a lot of sense to me. It’s a land of shieldmaidens, a land where women are still looking for and creating ways to resist and defy, a land where both women and men sometimes have unexpected views about gender roles.

Those are people who would be interested in the experiences of Haleth and Aerin, even as (and maybe especially because) those women aren’t particularly remembered and celebrated by folks like Aragorn or the Gondorians and the elves. Húrin is the man of legend from that time and place to most of Middle Earth, and Aerin lives in the margins of the history just as she lived in the margins of life. But an underdog people will love an underdog story and keep it alive while others have forgotten.

It’s also interesting to consider what “lesson” the Third Age Rohirrim are taking from Aerin’s tale. On the face of it, you might read Éowyn’s words as being scornful of Aerin, as she points to Aerin’s situation as one lacking honor. But I don’t think that means she thinks that *Aerin* is lacking honor. Their situations are very different – Éowyn lives in an unconquered land that is going to battle now to stave off their fall; the main events of Aerin’s story take place in a post-war environment, where there is no battle to be had but just the daily grind of living under brutal occupation. Aerin does everything courageous and meaningful that can be done in her scenario (other characters in the Children of Húrin basically say this, confirming that Aerin is good, strong of heart, and the very essence of righteous defiance), and I don’t think Éowyn finds any fault with Aerin’s choices or behavior. What Éowyn finds dishonorable and inglorious is the circumstance of being forced to live under occupation in the first place. She wants to go to battle so that she is never faced with the life that Aerin had to live. She learned from Aerin’s tale that she’d rather not be the resistance to oppression but instead the conqueror of it.

Anyway. Now I’m just rambling (as is my way!). But if even a hint of this was interesting to you, I urge you to check out @outofangband ‘s blog for all kinds of additional context and detail about Aerin and the infamous firing of Brodda’s hall, expressed in a more articulate way than here! Thanks for sharing this very cool connection with me, friend!

[2-the-moon-and-2-saturn]

who we are (and what we’ve done — chapter 10

Events unfold painstakingly slowly.

Then again, that’s probably to be expected when one selects vaginal delivery as their preferred method of childbirth.

If she were using her logical brain, Lena would remember the countless books she read, both from terrestrial and Kryptonian literature, regarding this very moment that will change her life forever. She would think about the fact that these so-called ‘natural’ births (though at this moment, it feels like there is nothing remotely natural about it) typically result in a faster recovery time, which increases her chances of being active sooner and in less pain in the future.

If she were thinking with her emotional brain, Lena would remind herself that she actually chose this, among other things, because she did want the experience, because she wanted to be with her baby through everything since the very beginning, and something in her made this kind of birthing process just feel right.

But none of those scenarios are relevant right now, because Lena does not feel like she is thinking with any brain at all. In fact, her entire brain seems to be dedicated to signaling to her that pushing a baby past her vagina is supposed to hurt (as if she could ever forget).

So all of her well-researched arguments and all of her well-thought out reasons and all of her well-meaning wife’s attempts at comfort suddenly are irrelevant at the momentz Lena finds herself wanting to scream out a litany of all the swear words known to humans and Kryptonians alike, and curse nature or a god or something else that decided that in order to procreate, a person must go through this.

She tries to ignore the fact that the citizens of Argo actually advocated for her to just use the matrix, as has been done for so long, it’s become tradition. Nevermind that Kara offered to carry the child and Lena decided against it.

Right now, she doesn’t even care about the warm and cozy look they’d shared when she first went into labor, knowing that they were going to become moms, together, and nothing about it might ever feel real. Nothing else is relevant, because she’s bringing new fucking life into this world and so she gets to be as bitter and snappy and irrational as she’d like.

And then she is born; six pounds and two ounces of dreams Lena had never dared hope for. Pruney pink skin and fuzzy dark hair, the evidence of a life she had never thought to be meant for her. It’s not like motherhood has ever been a particular vocation of Lena’s, who always thought of herself as a fun aunt rather than a person who raises a child- she definitely has other ambitions in life.

But motherhood is still something she’s wanted, and can’t really believe her little girl is finally here.

Kara cuts the umbilical cord and the nurse cleans their daughter up, then places her in Lena’s arms.Such a beautiful thing — the way this tiny baby with powerful lungs that create the most ear-piercing screams simply becomes entirely content just because of skin-to-skin contact with her. Lena. Lena, who has never felt unconditionally, effortlessly, important to anyone.

The details of what happens next are hazy, probably due to the exhaustion of a seventeen-hour long labor. She thinks she feels lips on her forehead, and maybe the image of Kara’s megawatt smile in contrast with the tears in her eyes, her voice whispering sweet everythings like, “You did it”, “I love you so much”, and, “We’re officially moms”.

There’s something she’s receiving guidance on, and then her baby has latched onto her nipple, and then Lena is falling into the most peaceful sleep she has ever had.

She doesn’t dream — that wasn’t really even in the realm of possibility, considering all that her body has been through in the past day and the remnants of pain medicine in her veins.

She doesn’t dream, but in the next couple of days, she will imagine that if she did, the contents of it would, for a change, be very pleasant. That they would be a compilation of all the best, happiest moments in her life during the past five years.

Kara on one knee, flushed cheeks and held breath

as she waited for the answer that would solidify a bond they’d already known, in their hearts, to be true long before they actually realized it.

The butterflies in her own stomach when the woman she loves kissed her, deep and soft and all-encompassing, in the middle of the terrain where a house would be built to suit their every need. A place to grow old in. A place to belong. A place to call her home.

The glow of the stars when they left Earth, because Krypton’s technology would enable them to safely make a child from two ovocytes and, furthermore, guarantee Lena wouldn’t suffer with the super-strong kicks, once the time for those came.

Allura and Zor-El’s excitement to see her and introduce her to the society of Argo as the brilliant scientist who captured their daughter’s heart.

The moment two ovocytes became a zygote, and that cell split into two, split into four, split into a baby grown inside of her, a baby she loved from the moment they decided to have her.

Kara’s smile. Kara’s smile. Kara’s smile — all along and, most importantly, always matching her own.

Lena will have time to think about all of that in the days to come, when her breasts hurt from being fed on and her head hurts from a new kind of sleep deprivation and her heart hurts because she never thought it could contain this much happiness.

She will reflect on it, and all that’s led her to this, and she will find herself thinking, for the first time, while looking at this little bundle of hope, that she’s managed to build a beautiful life for herself, and that the best is yet to come.

And she will smile as she cries about that, too.

[loststarphounix]

ooooh

what if Gundham was hit with the Despair Disease? and his disease was the Remembering Disease and remembers everything that happened before, from the world-ending tragedy, to remembering his true beloved (Kazuichi)

Actually, aside from the Despair Disease, that’s actually the concept I had for A Remnant Trace, Nevermore (TW VERY dark themes in the story, please be advised) but I do love the idea of Gundham or Kazuichi having the Despair Disease! This time, lets make it a lot less dark and a bit more sad 😈

line break cause long post

First, Mikan would either need a new disease, getting the common cold so she’s stuck in quarantine with the others, or just not have a disease all together. Either way, with her not getting it, Gundham contracts the Remebering Disease, being one of the first to contract DD. And for funnies, let switch up the sick too - replace Hiyoko with Ibuki and Hajime with Nagito. So those with the disease are: Hiyoko, Akane and Hajime, with Fuyuhiko thrown in cause with not 😂

Hiyoko has same Disease Ibuki had, Akane’s stays the same, Hajime has the Lying Disease and Fuyuhiko has a brand new disease! I’m calling it the Damsel Disease! He feels compelled to be in situations where he’ll always be saved; no matter how dangerous or convoluted to the point it was obviously planned, he must be rescued.

So it’s only Nagito, Sonia, Chiaki, Ibuki, Nekomaru, Kazuichi and Mikan the only healthy ones. Gundham, with the Remembering Disease, happens on Day 2 and he hides it extremely well! Since he’s a theater kid and a goth, of course he has shit tons of makeup and foundation! That pale pallor isn’t completely natural after all. And since his body usually runs colder than the average human (this man is anemic send help), his fever isn’t completely obvious. When he awakes on the Motives Second Day with all their memories of Hope’s Peak, he immediately goes in search of Kazuichi.

He’s so overwhelmed by the memories, that it his Devas an embarrassingly long time to get him back to virtual reality. It doesn’t take him long to come to the obvious conclusion that he won’t be believed and called mentally unstable at best, or believed and cause unnecessary chaos and ensuring Junko’s victory at worse. He has to walk to very fine line, but his need to be close to Kazuichi now that he knows what they meant to each other means he has to play this cool.

Sadly, Gundham can’t really play cool. He almost completely ruins it during breakfast when he automatically seeks and sits at Kazuichi’s table. The mechanic is suspicious and butthurt since the day before they finally came to a head about The Sonia Situation ™️ and Ibuki is trying to cheer him up now that both his bros and big sis are sick. He thought the breeder was coming over to rub the whole situation in his face, but feels shame because he somehow knows the other would never do that. How even knows that, he can’t say but it feels right.

And so the two are just staring at Gundham, wondering what he’s doing siting with them and Gundham is starting to sweat bullets because how can he explain this behavior that’ll sound believable. He’s saved from his massive faux pas when Chiaki and Sonia join them, announcing they’ve decided to become a couple before this disease gets to them. And yeah, it hurts Kazuichi a bit, but he’s genuinely happy for Chiaki. And he apologizes to both Sonia and Gundham, which is met with very little fanfare from the former and acceptance for his apology from the later.

When they split up for the day, Gundham almost steps in it again when he instinctively heads out with Kazuichi. But he covers it by stating that he knew the mechanic was making some sort of communication device and will guard against any nefarious actions. And while he’s a little freaked out about the sudden shift in behavior, Kazuichi tries to shrug it off and reluctantly lets the other follow him around. But he’s super anxious because he thinks he’s going to get killed by the breeder because why else would he start following him around?

Meanwhile, Gundham is fighting inner turmoil: Watching Kazuichi work again brings nostalgic energy flowing through the goth. He remembers the long hours of them just each other’s company - Kazuichi working on some project or another while talking to Gundham about plans for dates or friend outings. It makes him long for the other to smile at him; to excitedly present a mini toy car he made just for his Dark Devas to traverse the realm without their Overlord’s assistance. He wants that intimacy again and he finds himself asking stilted questions.

At first, he tries to make it seem as though he’s ensuring Kazuichi is doing exactly what he told them, to then being curious to the steps and parts. Kazuichi, not really being used to people outside of other mechanics being interested in this kind of stuff, is immediately suspicious again - to the point he blurts out he knows the breeder is going to try and kill him. He immediately feels bad when Gundham looks genuinely distraught over the assumption but doesn’t back down, pointing out how just the other day the goth proclaimed he’d rather die than be Kazuichi’s presence willingly.

Now Gundham is faced with an impossible hurdle: does he confess what he knows and be seen a mad prophet fallen by illness as tragic as Delphi? Not mention being confined and unable to protect those he cares for from this accursed world. Or he says nothing, making the other believe the worst of him and create a bigger rift between him and his Sun?

He is saved once again by the universe, when a sick Fuyuhiko runs past, somehow escaping from the hospital. Kazuichi runs after him, determined to keep his friend from harm and the breeder follows. They find Fuyuhiko trying desperately to climb up the motel stairs in hopes of jumping off the highest floor. At one point, Kazuichi almost had him, but the blond eludes him and makes it to the top and does a running leap into the air. Kazuichi screams, tears streaming down his face and Fuyuhiko is caught by Gundham who was still on the ground.

A sick Fuyuhiko is profusely thanking the breeder as the others come onto the scene. They get the blond off the goth and Sonia and Mikan manhandles him back to the hospital. Fuyuhiko makes an off handed comment about Gundham being much warmer than he thought, but it’s dismissed. Kazuichi waits until, the girls are gone to berate the other boy about doing something so stupid. But he does thank him for saving his sick friend and apologizes for assuming he’d try to kill him. Kazuichi figures that, if he wanted, he could’ve let the yakuza heir die and push Kazuichi over the railing too.

Gundham wonders if fate is being fickle or cruel, but he’ll take it. He uses this as a way to get the mechanic to get to spend with him - which he does after finishing the two way communication devices and making sure it was set up. They both find an easy camaraderie, with Gundham using his memories to his advantage and making the other more comfortable with him. What he didn’t know, though, was that Kazuichi kinda found him attractive already but he was trying to make the attraction focus on Sonia which failed lol. So he’s actually more open to the breeder now that she’s not available and they aren’t playing rivals.

They hang out all day and when the night time announcement comes on, they’re a little surprised that it was that late. When they part for the night, Gundham makes sure Kazuichi enters his hotel room safely before going around and ensuring everyone was accounted for inside before going in.

The next day, better progress. Ibuki is a little down because Mikan is spending more time at the hospital, but it’s only a minor thing. She understands why. Kazuichi is more welcoming to him at breakfast than yesterday and they both stick together after they’re recruited forcibly dragged over to help with their sick friends. At some point, they get separated and Gundham is confronted by one of the others (Hajime maybe) and they corner him and basically tell him they know he’s sick and want in on his obvious plan to murder Kazuichi.

Disgusted, Gundham leave them, but he can’t help now noticed how Kazuichi is still a little weary towards him. Little does he know that after Gundham stormed off, they encounter Kazuichi and basically said the same thing, but added how the other seemed to be recruiting people. Kazuichi thinks it’s bullshit, but he can’t help the space he puts between them afterwards.

Gundham comsiders telling Kazuichi the truth, the he remembers everything, but can’t find the right time to do so. Something always comes up and if he’s honest, he kinda likes being the only one with vital information. He knows their tells and can keep them a lot more safe. Also, a little part of him uses his regained knowledge to win back Kazuichi. It’s immoral he knows, but he doesn’t completely see it as wrong when the mechanic genuinely smiles up at him, or holds his hand for a millisecond when he’s excited, or calls him that ridiculous nickname “Gummy Bear”.

It’s selfish he knows, but he feels entitled to the selfishness. Even though as a Remnant he has done many unspeakable acts, does that mean he doesn’t deserve this little slice of heaven when it presents itself?

So he continues to stay silent, being vigilant while also drawing out the mechanic’s hidden attraction for him. And for a split moment, he lets himself forget what was happening around them. Why he was able to remember….

The announcement blaring throughout the island shocks him as does the knowledge of a double murder occurring seemingly the same time. Ibuki and Hiyoko, both slain in the Titty Typhoon. And Mikan had done it. It comes to light during the trial, that Mikan never meant to kill Ibuki - she had in fact was developing a crush on the musician. But Ibuki overstepped; did something that triggered the nurse’s past trauma and when she came to, Ibuki was dead. Hiyoko had witnessed it, but since she had the Obedience Disease, Mikan easily made her kill herself.

Now they were down three friends and Gundham feels immense guilt because he thinks he could’ve prevented all of this by being honest. And Kazuichi and Sonia assume that their unfortunate situation has finally made the breeder crack under pressure and they try to reassure him. He still keeps his secret to himself, even after the fever is gone he still retains the memories, but only very vivid and specific ones. He still tries to use them to keep them all safe.

[soysaurus]

monsterfication

@pseudomicrothoraxdubius merry crimbo and happy holidays!! i hope you're having a swell-ass time, and hehe, i'm ur secret gift giver :3 i hope you like this random thought i had <3

When it’s dark, the monsters crawl out of their crevices. They litter the grass, the snow, the yellow sand and an ocean so blue. Cleo doesn’t love it because she doesn’t know what she loves. When the zombies return home, she is already there. They grunt in a way Cleo can only half-understand, and it’s fine. They don’t care. Their brains are half-rotted, and Cleo is a zombie too. She’s not supposed to have feelings.

She’s not supposed to remember.

But when the sun rises and it’s too warm for her brethren to step out, she sees pinks and purples. She sees circle skirts arcing through the air and horrifying 70s yoga outfits. She sees people she liked—loved?—and there are no grunts she can voice to articulate the red, yellow, green in her chest. The zombie with only one eye and four toes doesn’t understand. It just stares, hovers, mills around in the dark until the moon is out.

She doesn’t mill. Cleo doesn’t see, she observes. The villagers walk in circles, but their movements are as slow as a zombie itself. Cleo walks faster. Sometimes, she thinks she even runs.

But she’s not a child, and only child zombies can sprint through the caverns. Only child zombies stumble through one-block gaps, but Cleo can twist her spine into an amalgamation of a new horror. She is a monster the overworld has never categorised before, and she knows she is a zombie. Her skin is green, flayed, and falling from her cheeks. Her ribs are exposed under the remnants of her clothes, now dusted and grey with muck she can’t remember clawing out of. She’s a zombie in name and name alone, but her mouth doesn’t warp sounds in the same way as her one-eyed, four-toed brother. She blinks while they do not. She whispers and they groan. The spiders hiss, and she hisses back.

She has exhausted every option: not a witch, but she remembers the sulpher burn of making potions; not a spider, but Cleo has climbed higher than the mountains; not a blaze, but she remembers what it feels like to burn; not a dragon, because Cleo has taken a sword to its throat.

It’s faint, like a whisper. Something speaks her name, and it’s not her voice. It’s not a villager’s hrnn? or a zombie’s low moan. It says you. You. You are alive.

Cleo isn’t alive. She’s dead, half-something-she-can’t-remember, and half something she remembers too well. She thinks of red wings and red hoods, and then she sees red eyes.

It is night. Phantoms soar, and none of the other zombies know what they are. They’ve never seen them before, but Cleo knows how they swoop. She sings the cry they call before they shriek it, and she doesn’t understand. She has never understood. Zombies don’t have feelings, but Cleo’s head spins. The world turns upside down.

It is day.

It has never happened this fast before, the moon switched out with bright flames in the blink of an eye. Cleo is the only one who can blink, so everyone else burns. They wander while Cleo observes, and their rotting flesh gets collected by creatures that move faster than everything else. This new monster isn’t categorised within the overworld either, but it doesn’t have green skin. There is no white of exposed rib cage or peeling facial flesh. They are nothing like Cleo, but they blink in the same way she does.

More arrive, each different but none with Cleo’s bright red hair. There’s a red hood, and the feelings—always the goddamn feelings—return. Cleo thinks she knows them, but she does not. When they look at her, they see a zombie. When Cleo looks back, she sees something no one can call.

But they do. They call out to her, or maybe to a creature that hovers over her shoulder, eyes always watching, unblinking, red, yellow, green.

Cleo doesn’t call back.

And the overworld continues. The days shift to nights shift to days shift to phantoms burning out of the sky. The creatures make monsters of buildings that rise higher than any mountain has dared, and Cleo is still in her hole. She peeks through the crevices like the monster she knows she is. Sometimes they peak back.

Sometimes they shine amethyst torches through the gaps in stone, reflecting sun like a ray gun that burns any zombie it touches. When it touches Cleo, it doesn’t even tickle. She glows, and when she blinks, her skin isn’t muted, decaying green. She looks pretty and purple, a colour she never thought she could be.

Hands beckon through the light. They have fingers, just like hers.

She steps out, green and half-rotten with blinking amber eyes.

She sees blonde. She sees cows hanging from strings and a hundred explosions echoing through the air, and Cleo can taste the creatures whoops and yippees. She can taste the way they dance and sing, shouting inane sentences like ‘THERE IS NO ‘I’ IN ‘TEAM’, BUT THERE IS ONE IN ‘SPAGHETTI’. She can feel in her lungs the words they breathe, and a part of her thinks she’s said them too. She thinks she’s shined gold with the same trophies and watched the clouds with the same smiles. She thinks villagers aren’t the only intelligent beings around, and maybe this is who she was. This is who she is. This is home.

For the first time, she feels alive again.

Cleo runs, and she hears the voice that is not hers speak in her voice. 

and the universe said i love you

because you are love

And Cleo is love. She is daylight. She is the night. She is everything she has ever tried to be, but most of all, she is not alone.

She wakes up.

[moonlight-tmd]

Some all spark shenanigans happens and Blitzwing gets split into 3 mechs, a monoformer (Random), a seeker (icy) and a grounder (hothead). They all still the same with all the same memories, however now they lost their triple changer ability as well as the emotions that each persona represents. Like Icy can’t get angry, Random can’t feel fear, and Hothead can’t be calm.

Bee of course helps him through it and they try to find a way to put all of his pieces back together. Tho I imagine that their relationship would get confusing since now only one feels love for Bee while the others just remember what that felt like.

I had an idea about this once that i never shared; it's pretty similar to this:

So- Blitzwing joins the Autobots, Megs is captured n all. One day they have a mission involving Blackarachnia and they get stuck in her labirynth-like cave system hideout, they're surrounded by those weird insecticon clones and something happens to the machine(with the Allspark Shard in it) they were coming from and it explodes and the team ges flung into different parts of the cave.

So Bee and Optimus stumble into Blitzwing- He is a full Seeker with purple and black coloration with Icy fronting. It's weird but they press on- only to find Bulkhead and... Blitzwing again? That Blitzwing is beige and black Grounder with his Hothead face, raging at the remaining clones.

Once they calm down and the two Blitzwings notice each other- oh boy...

Icy goes full panic, he already felt very weird and now this- oh no it's even worse than a split personality! The other are uneffectively trying to calm him down until Hothead comes over, slaps Icy in the helm and shakes him while yelling that panic won't help. It's a bad coping mechanism but it works, Hothead pulls Icy and goes to search for the 3rd part of him.

They bump into Prowl and Ratchet and everyone's weirded out what has happened. They come to the big dark cavern that's maybe used as a storage, lots of scrap and crates laying around...

Something is in the dark, before Prowl can warn Bee, the thing pounces at him-

Well, they just found Random: this one doesn't look anything like the others, they're not sure if he looks anything like a transformer. He is all black with red biolights and purple glint, he has claws, horns and weird quill things and- is that a tail? He looks more like a metallic cryptid creature that a cybertronian.

So Random is there squeezing Bee in a hug and twirling around all lovestruck. Then he notices the other pieces of him and unintentionally drops Bee and goes to them. The puzzle is (almost) complete!

They all have no idea what happened, so they find the remnants of that machine and take it with them in hopes Ratchet can fix it somehow and return to base.

Now i imagine each personality had few corresponding emotions attached to them in the first place, I'm not gonna name all of them but you can guess the range and mixes from the ones i do:

Icy: Fear, Sadness, Calm, Worry, Panic, Surprise, Disappointment, Thankfulness(he's the one that will have a full blown breakdown if he's overwhelmed or scared).

Hothead: Anger, Annoyance, Pride, Hate, Passion, Distress(as in when he's so worried or scared he'll turn agressive and/or defensive).

Random: Joy, Mischief, Playfulness, Dramatic(this guys will exaggerate everything), Affection, also Fear(ex; joking in the face of death full knowing he's screwed) and Rage(he goes total feral, screeches n all)

They either don't feel certain emotions or they're very weak compared to the other personalities. But they all feel love for Bee- it might be from different perspectives but it's still love.

It's certainly very weird, one Blitzwing was more than they could handle, but 3? Good thing Bee knows his Sparkmate- err, Sparkmates very well and knows just what to do to get them all calmed down.

But then the other issue comes; sharing a berth. Blitzwing was already big, even for the enlarged berth they put in their room after Blitz moved in with Bee. No one wants to be away from the others so they end up in a big cuddle pile: Hothead at the bottom, Icy snuggled up from the side and Random acts as a blanket on top. And Bee is trapped in the middle, pressed against Hothead's chassis. It's rather comfy...

Bad side? All the sounds of their inner machinery combined is so loud, even when recharging. Bee is forced to get earmuffs to fall into recharge after the first night. Also he can't get out of bed in the morning, he has to wait for all his boyfriends to wake up somewhere around 11am to get out and feed himself and them.

Ratchet is more than annoyed that their oil supply is drained so rapidly. They need to have multiple deliveries in a single week.

While Icy and Hothead are somewhat controllable, Random is, well, random. Bee was already tied to the base because of the whole thing- whenever the team leaves to deal with trouble, Bee is the one to always stay behind with the Blitzwings. The only ones that are allowed to go and assist when needed are Icy and Hothead, Random has a strict ban from going outside without someone(Bee) to watch over him. He doesn't mind that tho, he loves spending time with his hummel.

But that also means poor Bee is sentenced to deal with Random's pranks and antics.

One time he hid and Bee, Prowl and Sari were trying to find him. He jumped and grabbed Bee from behind the couch and Bee squeaked- Literally, Like a dog toy- before he ran off cackling and hid again.

Later when the other Blitzwings and the team came back they were met with Random screaming about domestic abuse and furious Bee chasing him with a foam baseball bat. (it didn't hurt at all, but Bee couldn't leave that afthole without consequences)

So, after a whole bunch of shenanigans there's a break-in at their base- few survivor insectricon-clones found a way to that machine that split Blitz in the first place and stole it. So there's a chase, obviously all the Blitzwings are the closest cuz this is very important to them.

And just like in the beginning- the thing explodes and Blitzwing is back together again. His system has troubles functioning at first cuz he was literally in 3 places at once and all the data colliding with each other is overwhelming but he gets better the next day. He's very happy to be back in one piece. And so it Bee- as amusing and wholesome it was with 3 Blitzwings, he much prefers to have just one Sparkmate.

The others are also relieved that this whole situation is over... not to mention the weird harem that has arose when there were 3 Blitzwings.

[andro-dino]

been thinking about ryoma and victoria again...... so i wanted to ask, how much does sakyo specifically remember of ryoma? since he died when he was pretty young, did his entire impression of him rely on victoria's memory? how much of ryoma did victoria tell sakyo, what did she say about him?

oghhhhh my god kurayami family,,,,,, now these are the questions.

In the timeline I have in my head, I’ve placed ryomas death around four years after Sakyo was born, so Sakyo doesn’t have *no* memories of him, but they are very minimal. They lived in their little cottage in the mountains for the duration of the domestic life they had together, so I think a lot of Sakyo’s early memories are of the area and nature around where they lived. Again in the timeline in my head, Sakyo ends up returning to that busted up old cottage after Victoria dies to try to find any remnants or answers that might have been left there, which is when he takes Ryoma’s dragon claw belt, so I think he remembers a lot of the area very vividly. I like to think that the three of them went out on a lot of walks and mini adventures together around the area. I like to think that sakyo remembers and thinks of his father as a caring, gentle person, especially given that a lot of the stories Victoria told about him were about how he used to be real tough and mean but softened up after he met her, though Sakyo did also pick up on how ryoma was hiding something early on as well. He had a lot of these far away looks and even when he looked at Sakyo with so much affection and pride, there was something else behind it that Sakyo never quite knew what to think of or how to describe, but it burned into his memory very vividly. He only gradually started putting together some of the pieces later on when it was just him and Victoria. Victoria spoke very highly of ryoma and talked a lot about his passion, his drive, how he loved them and how he always wanted to protect them and protect Sakyo and wanted the best for him. She talked about how he changed and grew so much after she met him and how they helped each other and supported each other because she earnestly wants Sakyo to have the best impression of him he can. She also did a lot to enrich Sakyo in his Mexican heritage and family, as well as what she could of his Japanese culture as well, since I think she would hold the belief that culture and heritage is very important as is, but also because she feels kind of bad that she can’t really teach him anything about the dragon clan since ryoma never even told her much about it himself. All she really knows is that they weren’t great and that ryoma needed to get away from them and never wanted to impart anything they taught him onto Sakyo. Obviously though, kids are curious, and especially being taught about his moms side of the family and all that but never his dads, he wants to know more, and Victoria feels so bad that she can’t say anything more than that Ryoma’s family weren’t really the best. Manga timeline gives them time to try to understand and seek out more information together, especially when Victoria finds out about and meets the shishiyas, but anime timeline, with just everything else and other priorities happening in mind, Victoria never really got the time to be able to give Sakyo any answers before she passed.

Beyond just being curious, Sakyo also feels that calling that is inherent to his dragon blood, and the gaps in his knowledge that ryoma left him with really only increase that yearning to understand more about who he is and where he came from in that regard (see Inai by tricot and how that is now a kurayami family song to me). If im thinking about this right, it would be around this time that Sakyo has heard a lot about Ryuga and I think would feel drawn to him in some kind of way, especially with the resemblance that he bears to Ryoma, and so it would be then that he goes out to his childhood home to find anything Ryoma had about the dragon clan n things left and starts out properly on his journey as a blader and receives dragoon and takes up the role of ryuga’s successor. I think it’s an odd kind of feeling for Sakyo because he really mostly only has fond memories of his father and what Victoria told him about him, but the kind of desperation that he feels to understand more of himself and knowing that that is a gap that was left in him because of ryoma, it kind of builds a kind of resentment towards him in Sakyo. He doesn’t like that he feels this way and part of him knows that it’s not entirely fair to think of him that way, but a lot of the grief that Sakyo wasn’t able to process manifests in a really bad blend of sadness and anger towards ryoma, which only ends up combined with the general kind of personality that he develops, both naturally and in part because of his idolization of ryuga.

[bestworstcase]

with only three episodes left, what do you think is in store for the rest of the volume? personally, i’m having trouble imagining a solid resolution fitting into such a small window. not that i doubt there’s a way to end this volume succinctly—rwby is always throwing curveballs i could’ve never predicted hitting, which i love—but i suppose the hangnail in resolution’s cuticle is that jrwby are all finally facing their lifelong, beaten-in worldview being turned on its head and that seems like the kind of thing (on top of neo’s untold ever after story) that needs more time to be resolved. in which case, ig we’re not looking at a clean wrap up? do you think they end this volume ascending the ever after? escaping back to remnant? (i ask those two questions separately bc i wanna say they might have different answers lol)

as a point of comparison, here’s everything (not necessarily in chronological order) that happened in the last three episodes of V8:

1 - ironwood vs everyone beat down

2 - winter heel face turn completed

3 - met ambrosius + staff of creation rules

4 - magic rules lawyered penny into a flesh body to save her from the virus with a side dish of horrible body horror robot body death scene and holy shit atlas is FALLING.

5 - creation of whacky portals for evacuation to vacuo

6 - emergency evacuation broadcast CANCELLED!

7 - cinder remembers the power of friendship and uses it for evil

8 - cinder recovered the lamp and scored the password and used the last question to spy on team oz which is fucking hysterical by the way, so she knows the entire plan

9 - YANG DIES?

10 - ruby and blake fall too. and neo

11 - the evacuation dumps everyone in a sandstorm so they can’t call for backup and also the exit is one-way (“oh dear. ambrosius \:” love that enthusiasm sir)

12 - HARRIET TRIES TO NUKE MANTLE?

13 - ironwood murders jacques

14 - eleventh hour harriet heel face turn also zeki dies because atlesian tech goons thought the nuke needed to be plugged into the IOT for some reason god bless

15 - PENNY???

16 - and winter becomes the winter maiden

17 - TEAM RWBY TOTAL PARTY KILL!!

18 - jaune also

19 - salem and cinder playing chicken over who is going to blink first like they don’t both already know that it’s going to be salem

20 - ATLAS OBLITERATED FOREVER

that’s a lot of things!

now, it’s a lot easier to set up and execute a dense, tightly-paced climactic spiral of disaster than bring a lot of interconnected emotional crises to satisfying resolution in the same amount of runtime—but on the other hand, V9 has a lot less going on. it doesn’t FEEL that way because the emotional development has been so rich and done so, so well, but there honestly are not that many narrative threads to tie off. basically, the big ones are:

1 - ruby’s emotional crisis

2 - jaune’s corruption

3 - neo

4 - how do we get home?

5 - what do we do once we get there?

compared to the sheer amount of dominoes V8 had to juggle, handling this stuff is a nice little walk.

the key thing to remember—& this has been true for every one of rwby’s climactic sequences and also counts as writing advice—is that none of these major threads are truly discrete. they’re all interwoven with each other and bound together with all the smaller filaments (like the cat’s arc or little’s arc or the framing device of ‘the girl who fell through the world’ and what really went down with alyx and the tree), so you don’t have to resolve them separately and indeed you can’t because it all has to happen at once. what this means, from a writing standpoint, is you layer up and make every scene work towards the resolution of two or three major threads and however many minor filaments you can fit comfortably so that everything is doing work for everything else. if you’re efficient you don’t need a lot of time to pull off a stunning climactic sequence, and efficiency is something rwby has always been very, very good at. this is true even of V1 even though V1 feels laughably inefficient by the standards of V8; which is to say, they started off good and got much better.

the other piece to bear in mind is that V9 is not meant to be self-contained; it is not a character-focused breather volume to let the protagonists heal up before returning to remnant to carry on as they were, it is The Answer. when rwbyjn go home they are not going to return to the story they fell out of at the end of V8. that story is OVER. it ENDED. the final word was checkmate and the world they knew is GONE FOREVER. salem WON. the ever after is an epilogue to that story and the prologue for another; it isn’t building towards a resolution so much as it is building a hook.

(<- remember V3 “beginning of the end” and “end of the beginning”? this story-within-story device is something rwby has utilized before; this show is a singular contiguous narrative in the literal sense, but it’s structured as a trilogy.)

so V9 needs to be a satisfying farewell to the middle book and also make the case for continuing on to the third and final story—which very much works to its benefit here, because the sweeping emotional changes being developed actually SHOULDN’T be resolved. a clean wrap up would critically weaken the narrative structure. the immediate crises need to be realized—there must be a moment of peace, of closing one book and beginning the next; a hopeful glimpse of the story to come, of what it could be—and then they go home. and the new story begins.

in the figurative sense you could call it ascension. in the literal sense, no, i don’t think any of the remnant characters are going to ascend because i don’t think they can (frankly i’m bemused as to why so many people seem to believe otherwise; it seems to me that the cat has made it very clear that ascension is closed to non-afterans). but the idea of ascension? oh, yes, they’re carrying that forward with them.

as for whether they’ll return to remnant—yes. i think the probability that they don’t find their way home by episode ten is zero. how they return is an open question but also not a question at all, because the tree is the question and their answer is the door; this has been spelled out, explicitly, albeit in wonderlandish terms. what we don’t know yet is what this will look like, because the tree is also the blacksmith and the ever after runs on wonderland rules. it’s not going to be literal. (<- unless abstraction is less absurd than the literal option, which is possible given the likelihood that the ever after itself is fictional.)

[harleychick91]

I just realized I posted this a day early…sorry guys!

SuperCorptober Day 30: Magic

Twin Flame

Arriving at The Tower, I was still in shock about my mother and everything I learned about myself in Newfoundland. The small town was cute but all I wanted was to get back home. I needed to see and talk to Kara alone. Especially if the twin flame was real. As I watched the elevator numbers rise, I took a steadying breath. I guess I’ll find out shortly.

Exiting the elevator, it took Kara less than a second to notice me. “Lena! You’re back!” As she made her way towards me, her step faulted. “Ow.” Glancing at her wrist, the Super shrugged the random pain off and wrapped her arms around me. “How was Newfoundland?”

Reciprocating the hug, I smiled nervously. “Enlightening.” Feeling the remnants of a burning sensation on my wrist, my stomach flopped. I wonder if that’s it. I’ll have to look later. Turning my head, I whispered. “We need to speak privately.”

Pulling back, worried blue eyes studied me. “Is everything alright?”

“I hope so,” I tried to smile. She hears my heart racing. I know that look. She’s worried. “I’m exhausted.” Turning my attention to everyone, I waved. “Hi, I brought back some teas, vodka for Alex, and a few other things for everyone to try soon.”

“Thank you,” J’onn and Alex spoke in unison.

“I’ll bring food before I come over. We’ll make a night of it,” the blonde smiled. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too.” I can feel Alex and J’onn staring at me. They know something is different. “You and dinner sounds fantastic.”

“I’ll let you know when I’m on my way.” Wrapping her arms around me again, Kara said her goodbyes.

Around eight, Kara said she was on her way. I had showered, changed, and processed a little more of what I’d learned. Sitting on the small couch, I stared at the little black flame on the side of my wrist. I guess it was true. Lovely. I wonder how she’ll handle the information. It’s a lot to take in.

“I see a strength in you that surpasses any of us. You could take your mother's place in my coven.”

“I appreciate the offer but I can’t leave my life in National City.”

“What keeps you in the states?” She paused. “Or who keeps you?” She paused. “Your reporter? Kara Danvers.” The older woman studied me. A smile slowly crept to her face.

“She’s not mine. I don’t own her.”

“You own her heart. Anyone who sees the two of you together can see that. She might be your flame. Now that you’re starting to accept yourself and the magic in your blood, it may help you find out if you’re meant to be together.”

“What do you mean?”

“Now that magic is making its way to the surface, next time you see one another a small flame will appear on you and her simultaneously.”

Hearing someone outside my front door brought me from my thoughts. She’s here. “You can use your key.”

Pushing open the door, Kara entered. “Hey, what’s going on? I can hear your heartbeat from outside.”

“To be fair, you can hear my heart beat from across town,” I teased. And you always listen to it.

“True,” she laughed. Unloading the bag, Kara’s eyes fell on the black flame. “Is that part of what we needed to discuss alone?”

“Considering that you now have a flame on your wrist, yes.” I paused, taking my food container. “Did you tell anyone about it?”

“No. I didn’t notice it until I changed out of my uniform. I remembered the look on your face when it happened. I thought you might know more about it than anyone.”

“I do,” I nodded. “Let’s eat first.”

Taking her seat, Kara agreed. “I want to hear all about your trip.”

I told Kara about the town and the culture before diving into my mother’s background. All the while, I could tell she was waiting for the other shoe to drop. “When it comes to my mother, it’s complicated. It turns out that she’s a witch.” I paused, watching the Super’s face closely. I can’t believe I’m saying this. “And, apparently, so am I.”

“What?” Kara paused, a crinkle forming between her brows. “That’s-,” Here comes the rejection. The “you’re nuts” comments. “Seriously?” Her head tilted slightly.

“Yeah,” I sighed. “As you can imagine, this is hard for me. I’m a scientist. I’m not ready to talk about all of this yet but I wanted to tell you at least.”

“Thank you for telling me,” Kara smiled warmly. “That means a lot.”

“There are things beyond rational law. And apparently my bloodline is one of them.” Something crossed the blonde’s mind but she chose not to say it. I wonder what she’s holding back? Knowing her, it was probably something corny.

“So, what does this flame mean?” Kara examined her wrist.

“It means we’re each other’s twin flame. Essentially, it means two people have a strong, mutually beneficial relationship in which we complement each other and help one another grow.” I paused to let the information sink in. The next part may scare her.

“I can see that,” she nodded. “And would agree with it.”

“The second meaning is two people who share the same soul. Once these twin flames meet, it can result in an intense, magnetic attraction and connection.” We became fast friends and destroyed each other equally. Even the thought of Kara can brighten my entire day.

“Could that be possible since I’m Kryptonian and you’re human?” Kara’s voice was unreadable as she ran her fingers over her flame.

“At this point, I’m starting to think anything is possible,” I chuckled. She’s not upset about the whole shared soul aspect? Kara was quiet for a while before I had to break the silence. “You’re taking all of this well.”

“I’m thinking about our friendship and everything that’s happened.” Taking my hand, Kara examined my flame. “Why is yours black and mine isn’t?”

“Because you’re like the sun and I’m like the moon.” I wonder how long it’s going to take her to realize what else this could mean.

Running a finger over my flame, Kara thought aloud. “We’ve had a journey, haven’t we?”

“We have,” I spoke softly. I’ve always enjoyed her touch but knowing this helps me understand why I crave it. I wonder if she feels the same way.

“In some belief systems, this kind of thing means they’re soulmates.” Meeting my gaze, Kara asked a question I have been asking myself since I was in Canada. “Do you think we’re…soulmates?”

“People believe they can have platonic soulmates,” I offered. Kara’s nose crinkled. What’s that about? My heart started to pound again. “Do you want something more?”

Biting her lip, Kara pulled a pillow into her chest. “I don’t know. Maybe? I mean, I’ve thought about it on occasion.”

Relief washed over me. “You have?”

“Are you mad?” She whispered, never looking at me.

Taking a steadying breath, I let it out slowly. Please let this go well. “I can’t be mad since I’ve been thinking the same thing.”

Kara’s head popped up. “You…you have?”

Taking the pillow from the skittish woman, I took her hand into mine. “I’ve always cared about you. Sometimes it feels like more than friendship.”

Entwining our fingers, Kara smiled. “It does.” Warmth traveled through both of us. A white glow encompassed our joined hands. “Magic?”

“Yes.”

“What happens if-,” she cut herself off. “Never mind.”

“If we kissed?” I finished quietly. “I don’t know. I’d be lying if I hadn’t thought about it.”

“Before today?” Kara asked sheepishly. Hope in her eyes.

“Long before today,” I mumbled. Glancing towards pink lips, I asked an unspoken question. Smiling nervously, Kara nodded her approval.

As our lips touched, that same warmth surrounded us. All of the heaviness in my chest surrounding Kara and my feelings for her disappeared. Maybe this could work. We do make each other happy and better people. To my surprise, Kara started to lean back and pull me with her. Shifting, the blonde made herself comfortable beneath me. “Are you sure about this?”

“No sex. F-For now.” Kara’s cheeks flushed. “All I know is, this feels right when every other relationship I’ve had has felt wrong. I’ve loved you for a long time but was always scared to admit it.”

“I was scared too.” Dipping my head, I captured the woman’s lips in a searing kiss. I wanted nothing more than to get lost in it, and in her, for a while. We can figure everything out later. For now, I’m only interested in this. In my Kara.

Also on AO3 and FFN. In the next few days, I’ll post a list with links to all of my SuperCorptober fics.

[ghostmartyr]

click your heels three times

AN: I have a whole hour before canon says none of this will ever happen, and by golly, I’m going to use it.

Featuring Little as a big good wolf -- because that won me over in a heartbeat, good job tumblr -- Ruby having a Bad Time while Doing Fine, and Qrow loving his niece through depressing career wisdom. General aura of suicidal ideation throughout. AO3

---

Night in Vacuo is frozen and empty.

It restarts itself every day. The sun rises. It takes a minute. Heat shimmers melt the skyline and the sand turns blistering instead of irritating. Around camp, everyone bustles around doing nothing or waiting in line at the canteen, making noise about how much the wait’s keeping them from doing nothing.

There are too many people, too many conflicting plans, too many starving Grimm being drawn in.

Night is simpler. Everything dies off. A hush falls over camp, and everyone not on guard duty stays squarely inside the protection of their battered tents. No one wants to wander into the cold. There’s no reason for it.

Ruby ducks under the tent flap silently. Waits. Drops her shoulders and holds it open when an inquisitive muzzle nudges her head through the canvas. Shaggy paws tread gently into the sand, and the next nudge almost knocks her over.

Little is impossible to leave behind. Whenever she tries, they wake up and follow.

“You don’t have to,” Ruby says, more than once. She can’t make herself say that they don’t even remember why they think following her is so important. Or that even before the Tree, they had no idea, so it couldn’t possibly matter, and if they did remember, they’d remember that she already got them killed once, and in Remnant it’s for keeps, so they shouldn’t want to follow anymore—and even past all that, she doesn’t need an escort everywhere she goes. They’re in the middle of the desert. There’s nowhere to go.

She thinks all of it. She thinks that and worse. But she keeps her mouth shut.

With Little.

By the third day of her team very visibly assigning someone each day to watch her, she says something about it to them.

It goes over about as well as the last time she said something, featuring extra trouble in the form of Ren offering everyone tea in the middle of it all. She leaves. Little follows. She stays away long enough that the empty hole in her stomach can pretend to be guilt. She comes back. Everyone has an opinion on whether or not her behavior was okay, and she can’t explain how little she cares about what they think without being terrified she really means it—she can’t explain how little and how much she wants to apologize, and it turns into awkward silence to avoid yelling but at least when she’s yelling she feels something.

They’re supposed to be home. It’s supposed to be better here. Instead it’s Yang holding her too tight for too long and pretending she’s not spending every other second holding Blake, Blake being too gentle and too kind, and Weiss trying to talk about all of it while her sister floats around on Penny’s wings. Jaune just sits with her silently, staring at the sword she brought back.

They don’t blame her.

They should.

They don’t.

She tries not to hate them for it.

There are shadows behind their eyes that don’t belong, and she knows she put them there. Her choices. Her mistakes. She’s supposed to be the one that saves, not the one that hurts, and she’s made all of them too afraid to say it.

Little sleepily droops their head onto her shoulder as they walk into the night, their breath huffing twin spots of fog over their faces. It’s easy to see. Up above, the shattered moon shines, and down below, the sand gleams almost silver. Pinpricks of stars and sand twinkle in the night. A quiet ocean of glitter.

Only a few spots of darkness dot the horizon, marking out the very small sections of desert the sand hasn’t overrun. Only one is close enough to care about. A shelter of blackened rock just south of camp, sticking out of the sand like a fanged maw. Ruby walks into the larger teeth until the dots of light from camp vanish.

Then she slumps down in the sand. Little heaves their way behind her, sighing happily and pushing their way into giving her back something soft and stable to lean against. Ruby sits there, not quite hidden, not quite running away, not quite as alone as she feels. Grains of sand sift through her fingers, snagging when they reach her nails.

It’s better than the tent.

Out here, she can breathe without worrying that someone will wake up. She can huddle next to Little without someone staring and asking how she’s feeling. She can stay up all night and no one has to know.

Everyone guesses it anyway. But they don’t know.

Little curls around her, fluffy tail thumping twice.

Ruby sits.

The sword sits next to her.

Crescent Rose stays on her back, weighty and familiar and cursed.

The sword sits next to her.

Too light. Too solitary. Familiar and strange. Sometimes it fits her hand like it was never meant to be anywhere else—but that’s a lie too big to even pretend. She can’t hold it like a weapon. Crescent Rose has that problem too, now—the problem’s her, it’s always her—but the sword is different. It’s fireflies and warmth, and when she holds it, the hollow, choked feeling in her chest creeps away.

Until she remembers. Until she starts thinking about it. Nothing takes that away.

Ruby pulls down her hood and hunches next to Little. One eye on the sword. Blearing from the only shot of green anywhere in the entire desert. She runs a thumb along the edge. Clean. Untainted and magical.

Ruby sits.

She sits, and Little breathes into her ear, and she breathes too.

Fragments of the moon pass by in the sword’s reflection.

She sits.

When she’s out here, alone with Little, the cold air mopping up any tears she has left, it’s possible. Manageable. Weightless and meaningless enough to hit doable. This could be her new forever. Distant lights and the smell of fresh leaves, a lone, steady hammering lending the only noise. No wondering if her hands will go numb and her breathing will come up short when the Grimm arrive. No one yelling her name.

Sand crunches nearby. Loudly.

Ruby’s head falls into her arms like a brick.

A rasping drawl breaks the night, followed by a pebble kicked at the heel of her shoe. “If you’re going to check out on a midnight stroll, you should really let someone know. Hard enough to keep track of everyone as it is.”

Qrow’s boots come into sight, and a moment later Harbinger’s stabbed into some of the more compacted sand. Ruby keeps her head down so she doesn’t have to look at the rest of him.

He showed up a day after they did.

He was happy to see them. Thrilled. He hugged her and she was able to feel something back.

Then Yang took him aside and had a long conversation that Ruby wasn’t part of, and he was just one more person she disappointed. Too present and too careful, seeing her in all the wrong strokes that she can’t keep hidden anymore.

“What’s so important out here that you can’t get it done in your tent?”

It’s said with all the casual nonchalance of an Ursa on rampage. Worse, because the cajoling tone is familiar. From a lifetime ago in Patch, a second ago in the Tree. Her arms tighten around her knees, and she says the worst thing she can think of. “I’m not going to drop dead if I’m left alone for five minutes.”

It doesn’t win the silence back for more than a second. “Close,” he says. “Try five hours. And if you can’t pick up on someone watching you for a few of those, you lose out on walking around privileges.”

Ruby stares sullenly at his shins. “It hasn’t been that long.”

“Which one of us do you think got it closer?”

She doesn’t answer.

“Right. Bedtime, kiddo. Unless you’re up for talking about why you’re not already there.”

She doesn’t answer that, either. Her neck feels hot up against Little’s fur. The easy, simple nothingness is slipping out of her fingers, and something wrong bubbles under her skin. Something flawed and broken, jagged and painful, that leaves her eyes watering with the sting.

“I could just talk at you, if you’re that set on whatever this is.”

It’s like an invisible scale tips, a careless finger jamming one side down all the way. For a single moment, she hates him. Violently. Like a sword, like a scythe, like a burst of bright color in a dying grey that splashes all over him, so aggressive and sure that she believes it, that she could tear into him and mean it—it feels, for just that moment, like she can feel this way about someone that isn’t her, and that makes it such a relief to be cruel and unfair.

Like she doesn’t know how to stop—because she never knows how to stop these days, she just keeps going and wondering how—the words spew out.

“Are you going to tell me that it’s fine, that you’re glad I’m still here, that I should be happy to be alive when so many people are stuck being dead because of my decisions?” The sword falls into her hand and she doesn’t know how. Green, sparkling, and perfect, and all her mouth is left with is an ugly, spiteful red. “Are you going to tell me there’s nothing wrong with me? To smile? I’m still here, aren’t I? Still Ruby Rose, and that’s what Ruby Rose is supposed to do!”

No one has said that. No one dares to say it out loud. They just look at her, wary and uncertain, cautious and unreal in their soft, gentle patience. They tell her it’s okay, and they mean it’s okay because it will go away, but it’s not going away. They’re home and it’s still here, she killed so many less people than she thought and it’s still here, she has her friends and family and it’s still like every moment is a teacup pressed to her lips, asking her to be honest and give up like she was supposed to instead of coming back like a hypocrite, acting like anything’s changed.

She’s breathing too fast. Her hands shake even with the sword. They’re waiting for Crescent Rose, waiting because the adrenaline means there’s something to fight, and she fights, right? She does that, doesn’t she?

Qrow knows. He taught her. He twirled Harbinger around like a baton, slicing through leaves before they hit the ground. Smiling like the whole world turned bright when she laughed and tried to catch them. Guiding her through her stances, tickling her when she got it wrong.

Right now, there’s none of that brightness.

He looks at her through hooded, exhausted eyes. Looking at her like of course this is happening. Of course this is ruined too.

Like he wants a drink.

Renewed bitterness, twisted and sad, rears its head, and she wants to start screaming.

This is the part where he sighs, pulls out a flask, and takes a swig. This is the part where he ruffles her hair or swings her up in the air to put off talking about a mission. This is the part where he takes another swig and they all pretend it’s fine, and normal, and that he’s not fading away faster every time he comes to visit and—

Little rouses, briefly. Their furry head nuzzles her cheek. A lick follows.

Both cheeks are wet, not just the focus of Little’s attention.

Ruby blinks the blurs from her eyes.

Qrow just stands there, Harbinger jammed in the sand, hands empty but still searching for the abandoned motion. Because he wants it, and if his body knows how to wield a scythe it knows how to down a drink. Because that’s what he does.

But there’s no flask anymore.

All Ruby’s righteous, scathing hatred flips, and the numbing desert cold seeps back in. It crawls up her fingers and toes, tendrils wrapping across her shoulders like her cloak and Little might as well not even be there. Damp, horrified disgust curls down her throat.

“Well,” he says. Her Uncle Qrow says. “I’m sure not going to say any of that now.”

He does ruffle her hair. Sort of. There’s a hood in the way and she doesn’t move it.

“Hadn’t really thought it that far through, though. These conversations don’t really come up in our line of work when you’re good at avoiding them.” He finds a tooth to lounge against. He’s good at lounging. Leaning back with a casual grin that says everything is okay. Lying and lying and lying. “It’s not that hard,” he says. “One day someone you’ve known your whole life stops laughing, starts drinking too much, throws a few tantrums about how the world’s going to hell. The next they go out on assignment alone, and a few weeks later you hope there’s enough of a corpse left to identify the body.” His hands pocket themselves. “If you’re lucky, the only talking you’re stuck with is bribing your way out of informing the family. If they’ve got any left.”

It’s an obvious lead. Resentment comes easy, like the persistent nausea this whole disaster of a conversation has kicked off, and she’s not sure that there’s any point stopping it anymore. But she plays the part.

“What happens if you’re unlucky?”

A sliver of metal slips out of his pocket and rolls over his knuckles. “You start drinking too much.”

They sit. Ruby holds the sword on top of her knees, watching the moonlight drift across its surface. Reaching for the natural ‘I’m sorry,’ that’s the only answer to any of that, but not finding it.

What she finds is something else. Not an apology, not any kind of sympathy that’s supposed to follow someone saying something tragic and horrible, but also not the blaze of unjustified temper she’s growing used to. The words are quiet. Muffled by Little’s fur.

“I decided to stay. Shouldn’t I feel happy about that?”

She waits for him to say something. When he doesn’t, she keeps going.

“We made it back home. Everyone thought we were dead, but we made it back.” She blinks her eyes shut, seeing the dancing torchlight of a sea of tents behind her eyelids. “And we saved people. We saved so many people that—”

That their panic was a lightning rod for Grimm. That they were hungry and scared. That old feuds and new bickering kicked up within an hour of sunrise. That no one could possibly protect, as much as they were all fooling themselves otherwise.

A Maiden’s power doesn’t last forever.

“I thought, maybe, if things stopped going wrong… it wouldn’t be like this anymore. If we made it home, everything would be better. I don’t know why I thought that. But I wanted it to be different. I wanted something to change. I thought coming back could be enough. I thought—when I had the chance to really change, to be someone else—”

Ruby’s hands curl around all that’s left of Floating Array. It still catches reflections so easily. Ever After and Remnant are both captured in the same crystalline green. But no matter how many times she checks, the only eyes looking back are silver.

“I didn’t know how to leave everyone,” she says at a hush. “But I don’t know how to stay, either.”

Qrow’s boot knocks hers, somehow having moved closer without her noticing. She glances at him. He keeps the small bit of metal—the clover, she realizes with a panicked jerk that almost undoes the miserable melancholy—rolling over his knuckles.

“Not everything gets fixed all at once,” he says.

Ruby clutches Penny’s weapon, the weapon she chose to bring back, she chose to remember, and puts a voice to the terror that argued for something else entirely. “What if it doesn’t get fixed?” She lets go to pull her hood down further, and her teeth sink into her trembling lips. “What if it’s just like this forever?”

“Then you give it more than a week to decide that.” Qrow gives her foot another kick and slides over next to her. Their shoulders bump. He doesn’t try to hug her. He leans back against Little, who never minds. “Forever takes some time.”

They sit.

The stars pass on by.

The shiver taking over her body doesn’t.

“You know what one of the perks of being a Huntsman is?” Qrow asks.

“No,” Ruby answers.

“You can pretend that it’s all over when the monsters are gone. Leaves you with a bit of a crap mentality when it comes to people,” he says. His pin—his, now—glints. “We save the day, it’s done for us. We move on to the next problem. We don’t stick around to see all of the new problems that come up in the aftermath. We march off happy, because whatever happens, it’s got to be better than innocent people getting slaughtered.”

Ruby rests her cheek on the sword to look at him from under her hood. It mutes some of the shaking. “What does happen? After?”

He waves off in the direction of camp. “A bunch of frightened people realize that being saved means they’ve got to start all over.”

Their boots knock together.

“Sucks, doesn’t it?”

Qrow’s shoulder is warm. Warmer than the sword she can’t let go of, warmer than Little’s fur, and so much warmer than the chilled sand. Ruby nods blearily into it, biting her lip so hard it almost keeps a lid on how badly she’s shaking.

“That’s why always went with skipping town.” One of his hands reaches around and drops on her hood. “I never had the stomach for all that.” He ruffles the fabric and pulls her close. “You picked a hell of a thing, kid. Don’t fool yourself into thinking it’s something easy.”

A strangled sob escapes. Floating Array jabbing both of them, Ruby digs her way into his arms. Where it’s warm, where it’s safe, where—

—where home isn’t such a bad thing to come back to.

It’s faint. It’s buried under a flood of tears. It’s hidden away in a lonely desert outcropping of jagged teeth. It has a weaker pulse than the stars in the lightening sky, and feels just as broken as the moon.

But for a second, she feels it.

And her silver eyes flicker.

[ashseavr]

unexpected but welcomed.

a comforting silence filled a room, broken only by soft, breathless pants from the two, wrapped in each others arms. ashley’s head was resting on elle’s rising chest, her slim fingers lightly tracing absent-minded patterns across her partner’s skin. their skin damp, heat lingering between the two of them from their activities moments before. ashley’s blonde baby hair, wet with sweat, clung to her temples, while elle’s dark strands did the same. mirroring a bit of tenderness in the intensity they had shared 

ashley let out a soft sigh, her trembling body finally beginning to relax, her frame overwhelmed with emotions. she glanced up elle, her eyes still glassy from the tears she had shed during sex, a habit that had become familiar to them both. elle’s hand gently cupped ashley’s cheek, her thumb brushing away a few tears, before she kissed away the last remnants. 

“you’re okay, baby,” elle whispered, her voice filled with that tender care ashley had come to depend on. "i’ve got you.”

ashley nodded, snuggling closer to elle, feeling the warmth of her wife’s body seeping into her own. “i know,” she murmured, her voice thick with emotion. "i just… today was so much. in the best way, but… so much.”

elle smiled softly, her fingers trailing through ashley’s hair, untangling the little strands stuck to her face. “it was a lot,” she agreed, her tone light, but filled with love. “i still can’t believe we did it.”

they had a wedding date, and as life goes - it didn’t happen. they ended up running away and getting married days before their plan. 

ashley’s lips curved into a small smile as she thought back to earlier. “it was so last second,” she whispered, almost in disbelief. “but it was perfect, in it’s own way.”

she wouldn’t lie to herself. she was upset in a sense, still feeling guilty for it. she wanted her wedding. she wanted their wedding. the one she planned for months. the one she doodled in her planner about at work. she assumed that would go away one day. plans were just plans. her aunt always said ‘if you make plans, god will laugh’. ashley wasn’t religious, but those catholic sayings she grew up with seemed to stick in ways.

elle nodded, her own smile widening as she recalled the whirlwind of emotions that had led them to this moment. “it really was,” she agreed. “i know it wasn’t what you planned. what we planned.”

ashley’s heart fluttered at the memory. no, it wasn’t. but elle - her elle, was all that mattered to her right now. 

“i remember looking at you,” ashley said softly, her eyes meeting elle’s, “and just thinking, ‘why am i upset? how can i be? the love of my life is in front of me’.”

elle’s eyes softened, her hand coming to rest over ashley’s bare chest, right near her heart. “exactly,” she murmured. “i honestly couldn’t wait another second to call you my wife.”

that was true. elle had been begging daily to just do it. part of ashley felt guilty that she never agreed to just ‘do it’.

however, the word ‘wife’ sent a thrill through ashley, the blonde letting out a breathy laugh. “i love hearing that,” she admitted, her smile growing. “i love being your wife. i love being mrs.greenaway.”

elle’s smile mirrored as she leaned in to press a soft kiss to ashley’s lips after each pause. 

“ashley. wren. greenaway.,” she whispered against her mouth. “i love you.”

“i love you too,” ashley mumbled against elle, her voice trembling slightly, raspy from earlier.

they fell into a comfortable silence again, the weight of their day settling. ashley’s mind drifted back to their impromptu ceremony. then to the way they had exchanged vows on the beach alone that night, with nothing but stars surrounding them. there had been no grand event, no elaborate decorations or guest list like planned. just them, standing together, making promises that had already been in their hearts long before they ever spoke them to one another.

“i’m your wife,” ashley said, more to herself than to elle, her voice filled with a slight tenderness that came with her drowsiness each night.

ashley felt tears prickling at her eyes again, but this time she welcomed them. lying there with elle, she felt a sense of peace she had never known before. someone loved her.

elle's arms tightened around her, pulling her closer. “you are,” she whispered back, her voice tender. “you’re my sweet ashy. my wife. and also my girl, who is sleepy. i can tell it in your voice.”

ashley smiled, feeling the last of her tension melt away as she snuggled deeper into elle’s arms. she wouldn’t argue; she knew elle was right. instead of denying, she let out a quiet laugh, her heart swelling with a mix of emotions. within minutes, her body surrendered to the comfort of elle’s warmth like she did each night, her frame going limp as soft breaths escaped her lips.

elle listened to the gentle rhythm of ashley's breathing, a peaceful smile touching her own lips. she pressed a tender kiss to ashley’s temple, the soft scent of her hair, lavender and mint, lulling her into a drowsy contentment. slowly, the weight of the day faded away, and with ashley in her arms, elle found herself driving off to sleep as well, their breaths syncing into the restful patterns.

[suckitsurveys]

This time last year, what was happening in your life? It really wasn’t that much different, honestly.

Did you/will you have coffee or some other form of caffeine today? I have coffee right now..

Who did you last have a text conversation with and what was it about? My best friend Sarah was telling me she and her husband went to the mansion where they filmed The Big Lebowski and we were just quoting things back to each other lol.

Are there regular trains in and out of your town/city? Yes, and local ones as well.

Do you bathe your pets regularly? They bathe themselves.

Do you have a mailbox or do you collect your mail from the post office? We have a mailbox.

What was the last animal you saw, and was it a pet? No, it was a bunny.

Have you ever had an ear infection? I have. They’re quite unpleasant.

If you could watch any TV series right now, what would it be? I need to get into a BUNCH of shows. Succession and Severance both come to mind right now.

Would you have any clue when your best friend last got their hair cut? Nope.

Someone messages you just as you’re about to go to sleep. Do you reply? Definitely depends on who it is.

Do you grind your teeth, and if so, why do you do it? No.

Have you ever been hospitalized due to dehydration? No.

Is there anything you need to remember to do before the day ends? Get my city sticker for my car.

When you listen to music with headphones, do you keep the volume low enough to hear surrounding noise faintly, or do you blast it? It definitely depends.

What’s your favorite online radio site? Spotify.

Do your parents have any authority over who you date? No, I’m 33 and married.

How many different shades of nail polish do you have? On? Right now I have a clear iridescent polish with remnants of a french tip mani with pastels and gold glitter. A few of them broke so I had to just cut them all down. I also have a lovely mix of purple and teal on my toes from when my 4 yo niece painted them lol.

What did you have for breakfast this morning? A banana and I’m about to have two rice cakes with peanut butter.

Are you lucky enough to have an ice maker in your refrigerator door? I don’t.

Are you the type to wake up before the sun has even risen? On work days I have no choice.

Have you ever watched an anime series, start to finish? I was going to say FLCL but apparently they came out with more episodes and I was unaware, so I’ll have to watch those at some point. .

Do you feel the need to rant about anything right now? If so, go for it. I just really fucking hate my brother in law. I’m sure you all know that by now. He is the most fucking pretentious, horrible fucking person on the face of the earth. I can’t STAND being around him or listening to anything he has to say. I’d honestly rather spend the day with Trump, that’s how horrible he is. He thinks he’s so much smarter than EVERYONE and belittles my sister and her daughters and me all the fucking time and yet claims to be a feminist. Not to mention how much he fucking yells at them. And the GASLIGHTING when his daughters say he hurt their feelings by yelling oh my goddddddddddddd. His temper is off the fucking charts, especially when he drinks, and it’s WILD and terrifying. And the funny thing is, we have a lot of the same values and views and even sense of humor, but the way he talks about them makes me want to jump off a fucking cliff. Like, even if you agree with him, he will go ON AND ON AND FUCKING ON about shit. He has an opinion about fucking EVERYTHING and anything he doesn’t like is automatically stupid and not worth his time. Also, his favorite band is the Beatles and he thinks John Lennon is a god, so that right there should tell you everything you need to know about him. I want to ask my sister what the fucking god damn fuck she sees in him because he has NO fucking redeemable qualities except maybe that he’s intelligent, but he’s such an ASSHOLE about it. He also thinks no one has value unless they are educated (aka a college grad) which is such a fucking load of shit. You can read a hundred books and have a hundred degrees but that doesn’t make you a good person, which I hold up way higher than being “smart.” GODDDDDDD I fucking hate him. I am constantly torn about what to do about him because I want to go off on him SO BAD but I am so scared of what it would do to my relationship with my sister and my nieces, who I love more than anything in the fucking WORLD. But I also feel like I am not protecting them by allowing this to continue to happen to them. I also frequently feel like this is all in my head and that maybe everything is okay. But no, he’s a fucking dick It’s such a sticky, shitty fucking situation and I just wish he’d LEAVE.

Do you have a favorite towel? What color is it? Lol. Yeah, its red and blue with lobsters on it.

Have you seen any films with Judy Garland in them?: Yes, a few.

How did you feel when you woke up today? Why? So. TIRED.

Who was the last person you messaged on Facebook? My husband.

When was the last time you saw them? This morning.

Do you have a friend named Nick? What’s his favourite food? No.

What are you listening to? Nothing.

What year are you/did you graduate high school? I graduated high school in 2007.

Are you obsessed with anything? Oh yes.

Do you prefer waffles or pancakes? Waffles.

Do you prefer non-diet or diet soda? Non-diet.

Do you like seafood? Yes, it’s my favorite.

Are you craving anything right now? Sushi now, lol.

Do you dress appropriately for your age? Whatever.

If McDonald’s sold hot dogs, would you buy them? Probably not.  

How long is your hair? To my shoulders.

Do you like your neighbors? Yeah.

What’s your school motto? –

Has a bird ever flown into your window? No.

Which word did you say first, mama or dada? I have no idea.

How old were you when you learned to walk? A year.

What was your first pet’s name? Featherbrain and Lucky. Two Parakeets that were my 2nd grade class’ pet that we ended up taking for the summer and then keeping.

How many kids were in your class in kindergarten? Like 20-30 I think? I don’t remember.

Who was your best friend in elementary? I didn’t really have a “best�� friend in grade school. They changed frequently.

Who was the best athlete in your freshman class? I don’t know.

What teacher did all the high school boys/girls have a crush on? All the boys thought the Spanish teacher was hot.

Where do you see yourself in a year? Healthier.

If you were able to change one thing about yourself, what would it be? ^I’d be healthier.

Are you content just blending in with the crowd? Yes. I hate being the center of attention.

[1kook]

new parent syndrome

— kim namjoon x (f) reader

SUMMARY You love Namjoon, honest. But you love your daughter Hyejoo even more— it’s not a controversial sentiment when you know he’s the same way! —and going back to a regular adult life sans kids absolutely sucks. (Or so you thought.) WARNINGS dilf!joon, dreamy husband joon, loving parents au, jimin is also a dad, bathtub sexy times, exhibitionism 😳 kinda sorta, tiny praise kink, joon calls her wifey TT, fingering, cunninglingus, doggy style, it’s kinda cheesy n romantic /.\, unprotected sex, …. impreg kink RATINGS m (18+) WC 9.5k 

NOTES writing parent fics is harder than i thought :/ i had this idea last week n was like yes, lets write this fic that absolutely no one asked for... except me! <3 so here we are, fantasizing about dreamy dad joon.... as always i have to thank rumu ( @kigurumu​ ) who is kind enough to edit these n b like that don't make no sense -_- anyway lemme know what u think !! enjoy !!

No matter how hard you try, the letter f refuses to fit itself into Hyejoo’s phonemic understanding. She’s a growing toddler so it’s only normal that there are sounds she still can’t pronounce, words she doesn’t quite get. But her inability to say food or family or friends, which are undoubtedly the three most important things in her three year-old world right now, is definitely a setback you didn’t see coming. 

Your worrywart husband has taken matters into his own hands, using the power of Google and about twelve parenting books to create an extensive, one-hour-a-day, mini lesson to try and increase her pronunciation skills. Of course, Hyejoo already attends daycare in the mornings while you and Namjoon are off at work, and gets sufficient learning done there. So she can’t exactly sit through Joon’s lectures, no matter how pretty he tries to decorate her flashcards. She’s still tiny— she’s still your baby, and you want her to enjoy the last of her daycare years before you’re forced to submit her to the worst twelve years of her life (also known as compulsory education). 

But as you’ve mentioned before, Namjoon doesn’t quite feel the same way. 

“She can’t sound out the letter,” he mopes in bed that night. He’s laying down beside you, face smushed against your thigh. The lamp on your side of the bed is the only thing on, casting a faint golden hue on his cheeks.

This conversation has occurred a variety of times these past few weeks, and you’ve just about ran out of every comforting reassurance possible. You settle on stroking a hand through his hair. There are emails to respond to and clients to check in with, but there’s also a huffy husband in bed beside you who quite pitifully crawls up into your arms. 

It’s with his face between your boobs that he speaks again. “What if she’s getting made fun of at school? Or her teachers think she’s dumb?” You roll your eyes. “My baby is not dumb, __,” he says, as if you don’t know. “Her IQ came back above average when I took her to the development specialist that one time, remember?” You have half the mind to tell him an IQ test on a three year old isn’t exactly valid, but there’s already enough stacked on his plate. Finding out he wasted a hundred bucks for an invalid test would just be the cherry on top of all his worries. 

Water clings to the very tips of his hair, remnants of his bath with Hyejoo. Namjoon is getting older now, nothing like the dashing grad student you had met what feels like a lifetime ago. There’s bags under his eyes, bags that surpass any all-nighter-pulling college student’s, induced by none other than the sheer power of becoming a parent. And still, he retains his beauty, looks like a doll with his skin so dewy from his skincare routine, lips puffy and red and kissable. 

He looks up, and you take the opportunity to place a kiss on his lips, his familiar scent making you melt into his arms. When he pulls away, there’s still a subtle furrow between his brows. 

“Hyejoo is fine,” you reassure him, carding his brown hair out of his face. He leans into the touch, eyes falling shut. “Our girl is the smartest three year-old out there,” you huff, feeling the slightest bit annoyed that he could even insinuate otherwise. “And if she was having problems at school, you know I would be the first one in there, fighting all the other moms.” 

Namjoon relents, face falling back into its haven between your tits. “Okay,” he mumbles, muffled from the way his plush lips drag against the soft skin over your sternum. 

The subject of Namjoon’s worries is in the other room sound asleep, not the least bit concerned with measly letters and sounds. It’s really only Namjoon who is, his stack of letter flashcards glaring at you from on top of the dresser. “Your mother hen is showing,” you tease as he slips beneath the covers, leaning over you to flick off your lamp. Just like everything else in your house, his t-shirt smells like him. It’s a natural, woodsy scent that floods your nostrils and makes your toes curl when he comes so close. 

Namjoon snorts as he settles beside you, beefy arm pillowing your head as he pulls you close. “I’m not a mother hen,” he says, hand on your waist, the tantalizing expanse of his neck before your eyes. “I’m the rooster— the cock,” he snickers, and you reward his terrible attempt at a joke with a pinch to his side that has him retreating to the other end of the bed. 

Hyejoo’s best friend in the entire world— or, as she says, her best pren in the entire world —is none other than Park Yerin from daycare. As the universe would have it, Park Yerin is also the one and only daughter of your college philosophy seat neighbor, Park Jimin. 

Crossing paths with him later down the road was not something you could ever anticipate, especially when you and Jimin were never that close in college to begin with. It was the only class you had with him in all four years, one where you had quietly acknowledged his charisma and occasionally shared homework answers, before never speaking to him again. You could have greeted him on campus, as you often crossed paths. But Park Jimin was a walking friendship magnet who seemed to bring with him a parade of followers everywhere he went, and approaching him required three layers of strategic planning if you wanted to catch him alone. 

So bumping into him at the entrance of Hyejoo’s daycare six years later comes as a bit of a shock. You had never pegged him as the type to settle down so quickly— you don’t mean to label him, but there were certain college stereotypes that he fit like a glove —but there he was, carrying the tiny love of his life who’s currently dressed in a bright pink Minnie Mouse dress. 

Unsurprisingly, just like her father, Park Yerin has the same enthralling personality that makes everyone in the three to four year-old daycare class want to be her friend, and your sweet little Hyejoo is not exempt. 

Long story short, out of all the kids at Sunny Side Daycare, Yerin is Hyejoo’s favorite, and Hyejoo is Yerin’s favorite. 

So now it’s been a little over a year since the two girls have established their friendship, which means it’s been a little over a year of acquainting yourself with Jimin again. He’s a house husband, something you never expected, and he loves his daughter like no other. Some afternoons after daycare are spent with Jimin and Yerin at the nearest coffee shop, watching the girls haphazardly scribble over every piece of paper they can get their hands on while the two of you catch up. 

Overall, you’re happy Hyejoo can have a friend like Yerin, and secretly, you're also happy you can finally befriend a fellow parent as nice and put together as Jimin. On top of that, Namjoon’s liked him on the few occasions he’s met him; the two have even gone out for drinks. 

However, befriending Jimin and Yerin comes at a cost, and that cost is seeing your little girl grow up.  

It’s your turn to mope. 

“Yerin asked her to sleepover,” you groan, sadly patting in your skincare routine the next night. Namjoon is somewhere behind you, his naked back glaring at you through the reflection of your vanity mirror. He’s so broad and big, sleep shorts clinging to his waist as he lotions up his body post-shower. There’s a thin gold chain around his neck that glints everytime he moves around, biceps flexing and bulging in plain view until he finally slips his shirt on. There was a time in your life where his back could not go more than two days unscathed, your rabid (read: horny) claw marks painting rosy trails down his spine. These days, you can barely remember the last time he’s held your hand. 

“Who?” he asks once he’s settled beneath the covers with whatever book he’s reading now and his thick-rimmed reading glasses. 

“Who else,” you say, tugging your night robe closer to your chest as if it’ll prevent your heart from breaking anymore than it already was. “Hyejoo’s first sleepover,” you sigh. 

You take it harder than you imagined. In the back of your mind, you’ve always known your little girl was growing up— hello, you were literally watching her grow more and more inches every single day —but you had convinced yourself she would stay your baby for a little while longer. As much as you wanted her to see and learn about the world, you selfishly wanted to keep her home too. She was your baby, your only one at that.

At least Namjoon feels the same way. “Absolutely not,” he squawks, abruptly slamming his book shut. He’s usually really meticulous about lining up his fancy bookmark right on the line he left off on, so his sudden carelessness tells you all you need to know about how he feels. 

You sit down beside him, hand over his. “It’s Yerin’s birthday,” you inform him in what you hope is a comforting tone; unbeknownst to him, you’re trying to reassure yourself as well. “And Jimin said he and his wife are gonna be there the whole night.” You trust Jimin, you really do. If there’s anyone who’s more in love with their kid than you and Namjoon, it’s Jimin. He would never let anything happen to his Yerin, and by extension, he would never let anything happen to your Hyejoo. He’s a good dad. 

Namjoon rubs at his eyes. In the span of two minutes, he’s aged about five years. “No,” he sighs softly, squeezing your hand tightly. “Once she starts going to sleepovers she’ll start wearing makeup and getting into relationships and having her heart broken—“ 

A kiss is enough to silence him when he gets like this, his warm breath fanning across your bottom lip when you pull away. “She just wants to wear tutus and sing Baby Shark right now,” you murmur, hand creeping up over his chest. His heart is beating fast as hell beneath his t-shirt, feels like it’ll burst straight out of his chest if you don’t calm him down. 

He’s the bigger worrier out of the two of you, has a classic case of paranoid parent syndrome. 

It’s no secret that Namjoon has a big brain; he’s an educated man with a respectable job. For every problem he encounters, he can procure a variety of solutions with different approaches. He’s always prepared and part of you thinks he’s a huge reason you managed to survive those first few weeks as a mom. Unlike you, who had attended a whopping two mommy classes in preparation for your upcoming child, Namjoon had studied up on parenting. A lot. He had read books and reviewed scientific studies, had learned about development on the chemistry level and the social level, did all he could until he was confident in his own dad abilities. 

But, for every solution Namjoon can find, there are always twenty-eight other factors to worry about. 

“What if she has an allergic reaction and Jimin doesn’t know what to do,” he pales, death grip on your hand. His matching wedding band digs into your skin and you have to wrestle his hand away before he accidentally breaks your finger. He nearly broke your neck once when you were in college, had almost sent you to the ER mid-thrust because he had underestimated his own strength while trying to choke you.

“Hyejoo doesn’t have any allergies,” you remind him, giving up on your awkward half-seated position as you clamber over him. His thighs are full beneath you, tense up as you move over him and he manhandles you into his chest. 

He’s not done. “What if she asks Jimin for a fizzy drink and he can’t understand her?” His eyes are owlish beneath his glasses, covered in what you can only describe as a visible sheen of absolute terror. “What if he thinks she’s saying ‘pissy’ not ‘fizzy,’ __— what then?” It’s amazing, really, how a man who graduated cum laude can hypothesize this many disasters pertaining to a four year-old’s sleepover. 

In the other room, Hyejoo calls for you, so you gladly take the opportunity to remove yourself from Namjoon and his spiraling thoughts. “Look,” you say, tightening the sash of your robe as you get back up. “I’m gonna go tell her that she can go to Yerin’s sleepover tomorrow,” you tell him, giving him exactly three seconds to groan dramatically, before continuing, “and you figure out how to turn that big brain off by the time I come back.” 

Luckily, the cause of Hyejoo’s sudden wake up is a tiny bug bite she got from playing outside that just won’t stop itching. “Mommy, it hurts,” she whines, digging her nails into the tiny red mark by her knee. 

“Uh huh, lemme see,” you order, turning on her bedside lamp to illuminate the space. Her room is the prettiest shade of yellow, fitting for a ball of sunshine such as herself. “Were you playing by the flowerbeds?” You ask, running a finger over the mark a little too weird looking to simply be another mosquito bite. 

She knows she’s not supposed to play near the flowers— the bugs like her a little too much. It’s with a hesitant little nod that she confesses to it. You give her a pointed look. “You’re not supposed to play too close to the flowers,” you remind her, a tiny scolding for now. 

With a sniffle she responds, “not by the plowers.” 

A little bit of anti-itch cream has her settling, and by the time you return to your bedroom, Namjoon is out cold. 

“How old is Yerin turning?” Namjoon asks her at the door, heartbreak clearly painting his features as you help Hyejoo into her shoes. 

“Pour,” she beams, her tiny hand held up to show four stubby fingers. She has Namjoon’s pretty smile, an honest look in her eyes that makes you want to put her in your pocket and never let her go. Alas, Yerin’s sleepover party starts at five and Hyejoo has been trying to leave since noon. 

“Pour,” Namjoon repeats, shooting you a pointed look as if to say see. He had fought the decision up until the end, had even tried to tactically convince your daughter to stay home by getting a head start on preparing her favorite food. And well. She said no. So now the two of you are stuck having dinosaur chicken nuggets for dinner without her. 

She’s got her little travel bag on now, tiny feet stuffed into her ladybug rain boots because it had rained last night and she’s awfully addicted to jumping in muddy puddles. She’s absolutely adorable, your little girl, and you think Namjoon might’ve let out a tiny sob earlier. (Or maybe it was you.)

Namjoon joins you at the front door. “Be good,” he warns her. His eyes are suspiciously wet, but you don’t say anything because yours are too. You’re both crouched in front of her, her big eyes glancing back and forth between the two of you without a care in the world. Mixing your self-assured personality with Namjoon’s (mostly) composed attitude was quite possibly the worst genetic crossover to ever happen; Hyejoo doesn’t even seem remotely bothered by the fact she’s spending her first night away from home. Meanwhile, you and Namjoon are on the verge of a joint breakdown. 

Anyway, Namjoon gives in first. “Love you forever, princess,” he tells her, their ritual expression, and kisses her forehead. 

She accepts it and then, in an unexpected turn of events, surges forward to hug him around the neck. “Love you pporever, daddy,” she repeats, and your heart feels so painfully full at the sight, like you just unlocked a new life achievement from seeing your daughter and her father be so cute together. You don’t get to coo at them for long, because then she’s giving you a warm hug as well, the same phrase muttered in your ear. 

It’s the hardest thing about parenting. 

Seeing your kid slowly broaden their horizons, meeting new people and learning new things. Leaving home. (Granted, she’ll be back by tomorrow afternoon but even that feels like an eternity away to the dramatic parents you and Namjoon have become.) The second goodbye on Jimin’s doorstep isn’t any easier, especially when Hyejoo tugs on your arm and asks you to “say night to daddy please” for her, and your heart breaks just a little more. Jimin flashes you an understanding smile but all you want to do is punch him in the nose for ever telling Yerin what a sleepover is. 

You get home and Namjoon is in a calmer state by now, some old sitcom he hates playing on the TV. Usually, this time of day is reserved for his daily phonemic lessons with Hyejoo, drilling the f sound into her tiny brain, so you guess this is his preferred method of coping in its place: torturing himself with some boring television show. 

“Hey,” he says, and you crawl into his lap with a sad sniffle. “Shh,” he soothes, hand on the back of your head as he guides you into his chest. You’re actually crying now, which is super embarrassing in itself considering you scolded Namjoon for this exact behavior last night. He doesn’t mention it as he pats your back, stupid sitcom paused in favor of soothing you with the deep vibrations of his voice. “Hye’s gonna be back tomorrow, baby.”

“I want her back now,” you huff, vaguely aware of how childish and silly you sound. The tables have turned, and you find yourself wishing you had the same emotional fortitude as Namjoon now. All those parenting books have clearly amounted for something. Somehow, you will the feeling back into your body and pull away from his chest. You must look a mess because he doesn’t even try to hide the amusement on his face. “This is the worst day of my life.” 

Namjoon laughs, deep and hearty, with his eyes squeezing shut from the force. “Come on, wifey, those chicken nuggets aren’t gonna eat themselves.”

It’s quite possibly the most boring evening you’ve had in years. 

(The internet calls it new parent syndrome, where you’re so undeniably in love with your first child and the parenting experience that the rest of the world is put on pause.)

You love Namjoon, honest. But you love your daughter Hyejoo even more— it’s not a controversial sentiment when you know he’s the same way! —and going back to a regular adult life sans kids absolutely sucks. (Or so you thought.)

Kids are prone to asking weirdly philosophical questions, a fact that had greatly delighted you when Hyejoo first started speaking. Who am I? What’s money? Why not? It could get annoying sometimes, trying to answer all of Hyejoo’s curiosities. But as you begin on your second batch of dinosaur chicken nuggets, all you can think about is how Jimin gets to answer them tonight. 

Anyway, seven rolls around and you and Namjoon are bored. You can only watch so many episodes of Seinfield before you get tired of feigning interest, so you retire from the living room for the night. “I’m gonna take a bath,” you tell him, but he’s as brain dead as you by now. 

A second later, “lemme join.” 

It’s been a while since the two of you have squeezed into the bathtub together, usually assigning each other days to individually join Hyejoo. So it’s really not either of your faults when you realize a second too late how small the space is. One on each end, feet bumping into each other with every movement, it’s like trying to squeeze two feet into one shoe. You try to readjust yourself, but the bath flooring is slippery and you nearly take away Namjoon’s procreative abilities with a mighty kick. 

To make a long story short, you end up pressed against his chest, Namjoon’s thick thighs framing you as you relax into the steaming water. Instinctively, he reaches for Hyejoo’s bottle of baby shampoo that sits on the tub’s ledge and only catches himself just as the first droplet is meeting his palm. “Oh, fuck,” he sighs, quickly closing the lid before he can waste any more precious product. “Shit, I’m so sad.”

You snort, sinking farther back into his chest. He’s warm and soft in all the right ways, the hot water making him slippery. “What did we even do before Hyejoo?” you ask, reaching into the deepest crevices of your mind for answers. Namjoon’s hand comes around, fingers sprawled out over your knee, the one you have propped up and breaking the water’s surface 

He makes a rather vague sound, something like I don’t know, as he lolls forward, forehead on your shoulder. “Go on dates,” he responds eventually. “Fuck like crazy.” 

You roll your eyes. “Besides that,” you chide, pinching the back of his palm. “Don’t we have any hobbies? Any interests?” He doesn’t answer, which is all the answer you need. Why didn’t you get into puzzle solving back when it was a trend? “Is this what our life has become? Crying in a bathtub at seven pm because our emotional support child isn’t here?”

“Our only child,” he corrects. Namjoon tries to placate your looming existential crisis with a kiss to your shoulder, lips against wet skin, that he trails up to your neck. “And what’s wrong with going on dates and fucking?” he murmurs, hands around your stomach. “That’s how we got here,” he teases, and you’re not sure if it’s the warm water or the way his voice is like melted chocolate dripping down your body, but you become all too aware of his presence at that moment. Particularly, of the plush lips mindlessly kissing your shoulder, the wet smack of their motions. 

Another kiss, this time right below your ear. It has your head rolling to the side, exposing more skin for him to kiss up on. There’s still that overwhelming cloud of worry in the back of your mind, but it’s gradually nudged away by Namjoon’s warm hands on your skin. Sensing your weakening resolve, Namjoon strikes again. A hand slips down over your stomach, brushes over your belly button and finds itself between your thighs. “You used to love date nights, baby,” he says, the pad of his pointer finger grazing your clit. 

It’s been so long since you and Namjoon have been alone like this, months since you’ve been able to touch him beyond a simple make out session, a halfhearted grope beneath the sheets. Your daughter, as much as you loved her, made intimacy impossible for the two of you. She was always around, always looking for one or the both of you, so there was never time to even think about getting frisky. 

Only now, with his finger circling your clit, do you realize the blessing in disguise that was your daughter’s first slumber party away from home. 

His finger nudges your clit, flicks it teasingly. “Why don’t you let me take care of you, hm?” he hums, the hand that had been soothingly stroking the inside of your thigh coming up to rub at your breasts. 

“Yes, please,” you whine. Resting your head on his shoulder leaves Namjoon with a clear view down your front, lips kissing and sucking along your neck. His huge hand palms your breast, massaging the sensitive skin. You hadn’t realized how sore you’d been until now, his nimble fingers pressing deliciously into the skin. If your nipples weren’t already hard before, they certainly were now. 

He traps one pearled nipple between two fingers, the sudden pinch making you hiss. “Easy, now,” he chuckles, his low tenor paired with his wandering hands making your eyes roll back. 

Namjoon liked to use a higher tone around the house. He read somewhere that children prefer lighter, sweeter tones, so the last few years have been spent listening to him lighten the tone of his voice for the sake of your daughter. The deeper, growlier voice that had first made you fall in love with him became a rarity in your household, reserved for quiet nights in the living room or long drives where Hyejoo was asleep in the backseat. Only then does he unleash the gravelly qualities of his voice. 

Then, and apparently, now. 

His doll-like lips press against your jaw, suck lightly enough to make your body tingle. “Do you remember how it was the first time?” he says suddenly, his hot breath against your neck. 

Namjoon’s got your clit trapped between two wandering fingers, has your pussy twitching with the vibrations of his voice alone. And for some reason, he’s trying to reminisce about your first time sleeping together. 

“N- Not really,” you confess, subtly reaching down. You cover his palm with yours, hoping your touch will encourage him to carry on with his actions. It doesn’t. It just leaves both your hands hovering over your pussy, your thighs instinctively closing in on them to keep him there. Namjoon responds to that, releasing the breast he had been gently massaging in order to pry your legs apart. He does it so easily, despite the way your legs feel tight as hell, and the fact makes you whimper. 

Once he’s got his hands back between your thighs— this time, he uses one hand to carefully part your quivering lips, the other one gingerly pressing down against your clit to draw the most heavenly sensations out of you —Namjoon feels the need to dive into a recap of your first fuck. “You were so cute,” he laughs, and you don’t know if you should take offense. Well, considering you're married and have a kid now, it’s probably too late to say anything anyway. His hand suddenly switches gears, three fingers joining together to begin caressing them over your throbbing clit. “Kept talking to me so politely, even when you were creaming my cock.”

You scoff, but it gets cancelled out by the moan he draws out of you. “D- Didn’t know you that well,” you remind him, your thighs twitching. You desperately want to buck forward into his giving hands, want to feel the true power of those long, pretty fingers on your cunt. 

Behind you, Namjoon’s cock grows thick, his breathing a slow and steady pace by your ear. You can already imagine how heavy he is, the vein that runs along the underside and throbs with each new bit of stimulus he receives. Normally you would reach back and try to offer him the same helping hand he gives you, but your thighs feel wobbly already. Your libido has been dormant for so long that even just the barest flick of his thumb has you dissolving into his arms like this is your first time. 

It’s as if Namjoon’s sensing your inner battle, a muffled laugh against the side of your neck. “This is about you,” he reminds you. As much as you want to protest, a sudden hard rub against your quivering lips has you gasping for breath. “Give me a kiss,” he commands softly, nudging his nose against the side of your face. It takes a second for you to ground yourself, draw yourself away from your building pleasure, to turn toward his waiting lips. 

Namjoon kisses you slowly, like he’s taking his time with you. For the first time in a long time, he truly can. He doesn’t have to worry about a certain someone waking up in the middle of the night or walking in or anything along those lines, lips molding against yours. Plush as always, the faint taste of dinosaur chicken nuggets clinging to his lips. It makes you laugh a little, drawing away with an airy giggle. Namjoon smiles at your reaction, murmuring a soft, “what is it?”

You shake your head, eyes fluttering shut as he continues his circular motions against your clit. “Nothing,” you pant, finally getting in your first thrust against his fingers. “I just really need you,” you say instead, pushing his hand harder down against you. 

You’re feeling a little antsy, having been deprived of this sensation for so long. Namjoon knows this, which is why he very purposely slows down. “There’s no rush,” he smirks, placing a kiss against your chin. “How do you want it, baby?”

The inside of your brain is a scrambled mess, filled with fantasies and ideas that have been plaguing you for months. There’s so much you want to do, want to try, but it’s like your brain completely blanks out when he asks. It’s just as you’re beginning to formulate a thought that you’re interrupted by the sound of your ringtone in the other room. Your husband’s arms tighten around you. “Don’t go,” he says quietly, the tip of his nose running along your neck. It’s so tempting to stay here, to let yourself go in his arms and chase the pleasure you’ve been craving for so long. 

But the endless possibilities of who exactly could be calling wins over. Was it work? Was it your parents? Jimin?

It is with a heavy sigh that you reach for Namjoon’s hand, slowly pushing him away from your cunt. “I’m sorry, honey,” you frown, standing up out of the tub. Your legs really do feel like jelly, and you nearly slip and crack your skull on the porcelain edge. Luckily, Namjoon is there to steady you with two secure hands on your waist. “I’ll make it quick,” you reassure him, dropping a kiss on his pouty lips as you fasten a towel around your body. 

The phone is just starting up its final ring when you reach it. It’s Jimin, and you’re torn between being thankful that you’re getting word on Hyejoo and full blown panic from the fact Jimin is calling you while Hyejoo is in his care. The unease has you accepting the call without a second more to waste. “Hello?” you say, hand tightening on the front of your towel. Stray water droplets trace ticklish trails down the backs of your thighs.

“__?” comes Jimin’s sweet voice. It’s normally soothing, but right now it has every hair on your body standing on end. Before you can even respond, Jimin is jumping headfirst into a whirlwind of a conversation. “Sorry for calling so late, but I just wanted to check in on you, babe. I know you were really panicked about Hye’s first night away from home, but don’t worry! Me and the missus are doing everything we can to make sure she’s fine.”

His confidence reassures you, lessens the weight that had been sitting on your chest all afternoon. But at the same time, you find yourself wanting to throttle him. 

Your gorgeous, sexy hunk of a husband is sitting in the other room, cock at full mast and ready to pleasure you to the moon and back, and here you are listening to Jimin brag about how good of a caretaker he is. You were definitely going to make Jimin pay for this. 

Deep breaths, you tell yourself, toying with a stray thread on your towel. “Really,” you drawl, and you can practically see Jimin’s ego swell over the line. 

“Yup,” Jimin agrees, and by the sounds of it, doesn’t seem like he’s hoping to end this call anytime soon. You want to shoulder part of the blame; you had been extra sad and mopey when you dropped your daughter off. On top of being a good dad, Jimin was also a good friend. It was only naturally he wanted to reassure you when he could. 

Still, the memory of Namjoon’s wet chest was calling out to you. 

“The girls are playing princess in the living room with the missus right now,” Jimin chats on. “New dresses and everything— the Yerin Birthday Special —and they asked me to be their handsome prince!” You sincerely cannot wait for the day you get to introduce Jimin to your right fist. 

“That’s great,” you offer, not that he’s really listening. He’s too busy talking about Yerin (and making sure to include Hyejoo in for your sake) and how amazing it is to watch your kids grow up before your very eyes. And while you agree with the sentiment, you really wish he had called you and told you this earlier, when you were at the peak of your motherly meltdown. Not now with Namjoon waiting for you in the bathtub. Was the water even warm anymore? 

The mind blowing orgasm practically slips from your fingertips the longer Jimin talks. “Anyway! Enough about them. I’m thinking of trying out that blueberry bread recipe that aired on TV last night. You know, the one they had that actress make.”

You’ve just about resigned yourself to listening to Jimin talk about his love for pastries for the next thirty minutes when something brushes up behind you. “What the fu—“

He’s so tall and broad, practically covers your entire frame when he stands so close. And his smile is so pretty when he aims it your way. “Sh,” Namjoon murmurs, gesturing towards your phone.  

“__?” Jimin calls. “Everything alright?” 

Namjoon nods eagerly, the hands on your waist properly positioning you in front of him. It’s with a shudder running down your spine that you respond. “I’m fine,” you tell Jimin, letting go of the front of your towel when Namjoon abruptly pushes you over. The white comforter infused with both of your scents comes all too close, your elbow barely managing to reach out in time to catch you.  

Wide eyed, you turn to throw Namjoon a scandalized look over your shoulder. He meets you with a close-mouthed smile, the dimples in his cheeks making themselves known. His chest is drier now, the smooth planes covered in a thin dewy glow and a spattering of droplets he missed. There’s a towel around his waist that’s barely doing its job, especially when you catch sight of the erection tenting beneath it. 

“As I was saying,” Jimin rambles on. Namjoon nods towards the device, refusing to move again until you finally turn back around to finish your conversation with Jimin. “That actress fucked it up so bad. They really give anyone with a pretty face screen time these days, huh? At least I know how to properly preheat an oven.”

You nod. “You do make the best cookies in town,” you respond, a ball of anticipation building in your throat from the mere fact Namjoon is standing behind you. 

It’s completely warranted once you feel two cold fingers trail up the back of your thigh, your towel gradually pushed up to drape around your waist. The air in your room is a little chilly, and the goosebumps that raise on your skin are partly due to that, as well as the ghostlike touch of Namjoon’s fingers. “Pretty,” he murmurs, so deep and gravelly it has you shuddering.  

Two fingers dance along your skin, and you subconsciously jolt away when they meet the tender skin around your pussy. By your ear, Jimin says, “if I completely fuck it up, we’ll just pretend this conversation never happened. Deal?”

Using your own body against you, Namjoon lets one finger dip just the smallest bit into your quivering hole. You clench up, thighs trembling when he eventually pulls it back out and traces your own wetness over your folds. “Perfect,” you bite out, clutching at the sheets beneath you as Namjoon reaches for your forgotten clit. It’s still so sensitive from your little fun in the bath, and it takes every ounce of strength in you to hold back the whiny gasp in your throat. 

Behind you, Namjoon suddenly presses in close. One hand on your hip, he gently encourages you onto the bed. Your knees sink into the mattress, one less strain on your legs. “Good girl,” he praises quietly, rewarding your behavior with a finger sinking into your cunt. 

“Joo—“ you almost slip, burying your face into the sheets just in time. 

A devastatingly slow pace, his finger just barely moving in and out of you. The bulk of your pleasure is coming from that bundle of nerves towards your front, but the teasing gesture isn’t appreciated anyway. When he leans over you, breath against your neck, you feel the length of his cock against your thigh. “He’s asking you a question,” Namjoon whispers, “answer him, baby.”

You nod, eyes rolling to the back of your head when he presses himself closer. Jimin hasn’t even noticed your lack of participation, mindlessly humming a song. The sounds of a running sink highlight his vocals. “Oh, absolutely,” you babble. “I wouldn’t tell a soul.” 

“Ha!” Jimin scoffs. “I knew I could always count on you, Miss __,” he snarks playfully. 

The hand toying with your clit comes around your waist, fingers stroking against your folds from this new angle. A silent moan has you writhing forward, unconsciously away from him as Jimin babbles on the other end of the line. He’s none the wiser to the lewd acts happening on the line, listening to the sound of his own voice. Namjoon lands a mean little bite against your shoulder, plunging his finger deeper inside of your clenching hole. 

Paired with his teasing fingers, it’s nearly impossible to withhold your moans, biting your lip until it stings. “Fuck, fuck,” you whimper against the sheets, holding your phone as far away as possible from your mouth as a litany of curse words spill from your lips. Namjoon chuckles at your dramatics, not like he has his fingers deep inside of you right now or anything. 

“So cute,” he hums, removing his hand from your clit to snatch your towel away. It gives way too easily, messily thrown over the edge of the bed. With your back completely exposed now, Namjoon wastes no time trailing a line of kisses up your spine, finishing off with an especially wet and hard one behind your ear. “Hang up now.”

His permission sets your body on edge, drawing your phone close again. Jimin is talking about dinner or something, you don’t even know. Not an ounce of remorse fills you when you clear your throat and hurriedly announce, “I have to—“ Namjoon’s cock, finally uncovered by his towel, presses against your folds and you nearly lose it. “—I have to go now, Jimin,” you say, leveling your breathing as best as you can. 

“Wait, what the fuck?” Jimin says, thrown off by your sudden departure. 

The mushroom tip of his cock kisses your clit. “Fuck— I really have to go.” And you hang up, chucking the phone off to the side hastily. With your hands both freed, you scramble onto your back, meeting the amused gaze of your husband behind you. “Fuck me, now.”

Namjoon laughs, reaching for the towel barely clinging onto his waist. One suave swoop later and it joins yours on the floor. “You did good,” he praises, lowering himself between your spread thighs. You roll your eyes, grabby hands reaching for his hips until he’s sitting snugly against you, cock resting over your throbbing cunt. 

“Yeah, yeah,” you snap, the tight feeling in your tummy growing with every second that passes. Namjoon isn’t as unaffected as he pretends to be, a pearly bead of cum appearing at the tip of his engorged cock. “Just fuck me now.”

He raises a brow. “Missionary?” As if it’s the first time. 

“Is there something wrong with it?” you ask anyway, self-consciously reaching an arm over yourself to cover your naked breasts. They’ve pebbled over just from his stare alone. 

Namjoon hesitates, the hand on your hip drawing slow circles with his thumb. Eventually, he responds with a halfhearted shrug. “It’s not the best.” This is news to you, and you find yourself sitting up at the sudden bomb he’s dropped. 

He’s still hard as rock between you, his dick laying almost artfully against your slit. You really just want to throw aside all reservations and begin grinding against him, penetration be damned, but now Namjoon’s got that thoughtful quirk to his lips. The one that usually accompanies any big brained idea, so you settle down, nudging him with your thigh until he’s looking at you again. “Penny for your thoughts?” What you really want to say is please fuck me like I’m just another cum rag of yours and make it hurt, but alas. 

Namjoon sits back on his haunches. “I read somewhere that on your hands and knees is the best way to get pregnant.” You choke on your own tongue, face ablaze from his forward statement. Meanwhile, Namjoon is looking as relaxed as ever. 

You hadn’t really discussed children after Hyejoo. The wordless agreement had been that sure, you were both down for another kid sometime in the future. But the exact date had sort of been murky. Hyejoo is three now, and you heard from another mom that it’s difficult for children with wide age gaps to get along. You don’t want her growing up being far removed from another sibling. 

But also, now?

It’s like Namjoon knows your thoughts before you even do. “Alright, wifey, say no more,” he says, leaning down to place a kiss against your lips. “I’ll get the condom, alright?”

And then he’s stepping off the bed, every muscle of his toned body flexing as he swaggers over towards the dresser. He’s a walking dream, the physical embodiment of all your crazy sex fantasies, and he wants to fuck a baby into you. Your pussy says yes, but your rationality is still on the fence. 

You roll onto your side, head propped into your open palm. “You want another baby?” you ask tentatively. Namjoon shrugs, carefully opening the new box of condoms you had bought half a year ago. 

“It wouldn’t hurt to have another kid,” he answers, procuring a tiny foil packet from the box and returning to his spot between your legs. It’s like staring at a marble statue from this angle, the defined planes of his chest and abdomen, the gorgeous slope of his nose, the sharp angles of his face. You really lucked out. 

Your decision comes just as he’s easing the rubber over the tip of his cock, the swollen head just barely enveloped. You place a hand against his wrist, earning his attention. “Take it off,” you mumble, and you swear on your entire life he swells another inch. 

“Oh, baby,” he groans, hastily throwing the condom somewhere across the room. He rolls over you, bulging arms sweeping you up into his embrace, lips capturing yours in a sloppy kiss. You whimper, letting his tongue push itself past your lips. When he pulls away, it’s with a wet pop and glistening lips. They’re so puffy now, flushed a nice rosy color, that makes him look even more handsome when he smiles down at you. “Gonna look so pretty all pregnant,” he beams, placing a chaste kiss against you one last time before he’s hurriedly rolling you onto your stomach. 

You hide your bashful expression against the sheets, suddenly feeling very shy before him. But then Namjoon’s cock is running along your lips and you’re left a shivering mess. “Please just fuck me,” you beg hoarsely, and Namjoon obeys. 

“Whatever you want, wifey,” he teases, and before you can call him out for his cheesiness, he’s pressing his thumb into your aching hole once more. “Is this okay?” he asks, somberly for the first time in what seems like forever. 

“I’m okay,” you confess, a little shyly now that you know his true motives.  

Namjoon chuckles, quickly removing his finger from inside of you to give your ass one soothing pat. “Going in,” he warns you, and finally, you’re rewarded for all your struggles. It’s only as his mushroom head squeezes in that you realize you could have done with a bit more stretching, but that thought fades away the more and more he pushes in. “Fuck,” he groans, the low intonation of his voice making your toes curl.

If it’s not his voice, it’s the sheer length of his cock inside of you. The girth makes your spine tingle, has you muffling a pitiful whimper into the comforter beneath you. “Relax for me,” he directs, and then suddenly he’s placing a palm against your back, pushing you further down. “Hips up.” 

You groan. The normally soft fabric of the blanket feels like hell on your sensitive breasts. “I’m trying,” you whine, pushing back onto him in an effort to familiarize yourself with his cock again. It’s been so long since he’s been inside of you like this, since he’s filled you so well, that your body acts a little stupid now. He hasn’t even begun thrusting and you already feel like you’ll cum just from this.  

The angle is different than your usual style, has him moving along every inch of you as he sinks in. Two big hands grab at your waist, manhandling you closer to him until you’re just like he wants you to be. “There we go,” he sighs, and with him motionless, you finally relax. It’s about a two second pause before he begins to draw himself back out. “How do you want it?” he grunts, but it’s lost beneath the moan that escapes you. It’s the same question he asked you in the tub, right before Jimin called, except this time you have an answer. 

“Fast,” you gasp, the pain from the stretch finally, finally, melting away as your body grows accustomed to his presence inside of you. “Do it fast, please.”

Namjoon does as he’s told, waiting until he’s pulled out until the tip to satisfy your requests. And then he’s off. 

Your body isn’t as young as it once was, left a little worn from the entire child-bearing process. Sometimes you wonder how exactly you and Namjoon would fuck until sunrise before, how your sex drive was so high that it allowed such a thing to happen. Admittedly, there’s currently a stiffness inside of you that has been there for a while now, and you barely remember how you got rid of it before. Apparently, this is how.

Namjoon’s hard cock rams into you once, makes you release the most embarrassingly loud moan at the sudden intrusion, and it’s like all those months of tension that built up in your body are melted away. His cock pushes past your folds, creating a lewd squelching sound that would otherwise leave you mortified to learn it came from your body. You shudder, desperately pushing your ass back against him in a feeble attempt to feel it again. 

“Still so fucking tight for me,” he growls, snapping his hips forwards. His skin slaps against yours, leaves you feeling tender from the brutal movements of his body. But at the same time, it feels absolutely terrific. 

Your lips are still coated in your own wetness, have him noisily moving in and out. “J- Joon,” you whimper softly, but you doubt he hears it over the sound of his own labored breathing. “More.”

He responds with a sudden piston inside of you that has the tip of his cock nearly kissing your cervix. “More?” he huffs, the hand on your back pressing down until you fear you’ll become one with the mattress. “You want more?” You nod hurriedly, somehow managing to stretch a hand down between you to toy with your clit. The brush of your own fingers has you bucking back onto him in surprise.

Wordlessly, he speeds up his pace, thrusting his hips into your velvety walls at a faster speed than before. It’s a weird sensation, a sort of ticklish feeling m that makes you tremble with each roll forward. You can’t say the two of you have done it in this position a lot, always preferring the more romantic missionary position to anything else, but this experience was quickly making you an avid believer of its validity as a top tier sex position. 

You swirl your pointer finger around your clit, trying to sync up your shaky touch with his steady thrusts. It’s useless, because every time you feel like you’ve gotten into the same groove, Namjoon one ups you by hauling you back against him. “Oh, f- fuck,” you sob, clawing at the sheets beneath you. 

Namjoon groans, momentarily pausing his rapid thrusts to roll his buried cock against you. “Come on, baby,” he husks, the hilt of his cock kissing your folds. 

There’s a lot of built up sexual tension inside of you, months on top of months of nothingness. Not to mention that little scene in the bathtub just now. So you’re not really surprised that your orgasm rears its head so early, curling up tightly in your stomach the longer Namjoon fucks you. He’s back to thrusting now, shallow little movements that make you see stars every time his cock glides inside of you. “Joon, I'm gonna...” you rasp out pitifully, grinding back against him. 

“Whenever you want,” he murmurs, leaning forward to press a kiss against your shoulder. It’s sweet, but on top of that, it has him pushing in further than before, finally pressed against that sensitive spot inside of you that makes your entire body lock up. You sob, thighs quivering when he reaches an arm around you. It’s almost romantic how your hands meet, his fingers covering yours as he guides them over your clit slowly. “Give it to me, baby,” he croons, lips pressed securely against your neck. He leaves soft kisses there, smooches really, that make you melt. 

Another shallow buck of his hips forward and you’re cumming, breaths picking up until they accumulate into a choked wail against the sheets. “Fuck— oh, fuck,” you cry, your thighs spasming from the force of your first satisfying orgasm in months. Namjoon holds you through it, slowly thrusting inside of you until he’s drawn out your entire orgasm.

The new added pleasure makes his movements sound even wetter, dirtier even. “That’s it,” he purrs, pushing himself back up to his full height behind you. You feel absolutely boneless beneath him, laying limply against the mattress as Namjoon repositions your hips for himself. “Can I finish like this, sweetheart?” he asks anyway, thumbs drawing a soothing pattern along your hip. 

You can barely catch your breath, so you settle on a halfhearted nod that has him huffing out a laugh. 

For some reason, Namjoon fucks you harder once he knows you’ve had your fill. Like he’s trying to draw another orgasm out of you, but is also the least bit concerned with you. Honestly, it works. He moves fast and hard, like he has no regard for your pleasure, and for some reason that turns you on more than it should. It’s this weird fantasy of yours, to be mistreated by a man as respectful as Namjoon, and you find yourself weirdly fulfilling it now as he fucks his cock into you. 

His fingers dig into your skin, wildly bucking into you as he chases his own high, and it’s embarrassing how quickly a second one builds up for you. You moan at one particular thrust, body sensitive all over. “Oh,” you whimper, “Namjoon.”

He grunts, your cries fueling him on as he continues his mad race to the end. “Gonna cum with me again?” he pants, his quick pace rocking you forward. You nod, using your killer grip on the sheets to ground yourself as you weakly attempt to meet his thrusts. “Aren’t you the sweetest,” he hums, and doesn’t let you respond as he continues to jackhammer his way into your pussy at a bruising pace. 

It takes a few more thrusts, and one whiny cry of his name— “come on, Joonie,” you whimper, turning to throw him a teary-eyed gaze over your shoulder; he shudders at the sight —until Namjoon is finally tipped over the edge, shooting his pleasure deep into you on the next thrust. It’s warm, paints your walls and threatens to spill out when he finally pulls out. 

But Namjoon has read up, using those big strong arms of his to keep you from collapsing onto your tummy as he scrambles around for something to keep your hips up. “It sticks better this way,” he says, a sheen of sweat against his temples when he flops down beside you. 

“What sticks better,” you groan, the achy feeling of just having your world rocked quickly settling into your bones. 

Namjoon leans forward and places a kiss against your lips, as if saying here, for all your hard work. “You know... it,” he shrugs, hands behind his head as he prepares himself to supervise your post-sex nap, just to make sure you don’t accidentally move around and let his cum leak out. “You did good, wifey,” he praises with another smooch. “Maybe we should let Hyejoo sleep over at Jimin’s more.”

Hyejoo’s return is the highlight of the year. 

You pick her up around noon, and your heart nearly grows ten sizes when you see her come running down Jimin’s front steps and into your arms. “Hi, mommy,” she beams, the same smile as Namjoon. And just like Namjoon, you can’t stop yourself from covering her face in tiny kisses. She says they tickle and squirms and squeals in your embrace. 

Jimin’s at the door with this weirdly blank look on his face. “Hey, Jimin,” you call out, helping Hyejoo load her bag into the backseat.

“Hey…” he greets, just as Hyejoo frantically begins calling for you to buckle her in. “Um, __,” Jimin says, but you’re a little busy securing the tiny love of your life into her booster seat, so you just throw him a quick glance to let him know you’re listening. Kinda. “There’s something I have to tell you—“

“I wanna see daddy!” Hyejoo babbles from the backseat, wildly waving her hands around as you finally close the door on her. With it shut, her loud voice is drowned out and you’re left raising a brow at Jimin as you round the front of the car. 

“What’s up?” you ask. 

Jimin comes down the steps, awkwardly hovering by the front of your car. “Um, when we were on the phone—“ Hyejoo knocks her tiny hands against the window, gesturing for you to hurry up. You flash Jimin an apologetic frown at the interruption. “Well, you see. She kinda heard us— well, me—” 

Another flurry of knocks, and you can’t wait to relay to Namjoon how excited your daughter had been to see him again. It’ll boost his ego, not that he really needs it to be any bigger. “That’s fine,” you tell Jimin, swinging your door open. Immediately, Hyejoo’s high-pitched voice fills the space between you and Jimin. “You know I don’t mind talking to the missus,” you joke, nudging his side. “She’s my friend too, ya know.”

“Gotta show daddy something!” Hyejoo shouts from the backseat, has this big smile on her face that makes you smile as well. 

Beside you, Jimin is quickly falling apart. “No, well—” you drop down into your seat “it wasn’t her who heard—“ You shut the door, lowering the window to thank Jimin one more time. Hyejoo beats you to it.

“Bye, Mr. Jimin!” she says, tiny legs kicking around all wildly in her excitement. You shake your head with a grin, waving goodbye to Jimin one last time as you pull out of his driveway. 

“Daddy!” Hyejoo shrieks upon entering your home. Her tiny overnight bag is tossed down at the entryway, ladybug rain boots haphazardly kicked towards the general direction of the shoe closet. Namjoon had been upstairs in his study when you left, but he now comes bounding down the steps at the sound of your daughter’s voice. He cries out a dopey, “princess”, as he scoops her up in his big arms. He does a twirl and everything, so dramatic. But it makes Hyejoo giggle like crazy. 

She allows one big fat kiss against her chubby cheeks before she’s shushing him with the news of her announcement. “Daddy, look,” she beams, holding his face between her tiny hands. “I can say the f sound now!”

Namjoon has been avidly working towards this ability for months now. Namjoon, who has spent nights reading every page of every child development book possible, who has spent hours decorating pretty flashcards for her, who has sectioned off time from his busy schedule everyday just to go over lessons with her. Well, Namjoon looks over the goddamn moon at the news. 

“Let’s hear it, honey,” you urge, stepping in when his happiness renders him incapable of speech. So he just nods along, looks like a bobblehead doll beside you. 

And with both of her proud, sometimes overprotective, parents standing before her, Hyejoo puts on a big grin and says, “fuck.”

Copyright © 2020, 1kook on tumblr. absolutely NO reposts allowed.

[lovelybarnes]

stood up- b. barnes

pairings: bucky barnes x reader, anderson x reader (?) warnings: angst, getting stood up, language, unrequited feelings about: prompts (DA29) “i got stood up.” + (DF30) “i think you’re my soulmate.” +(DF41) “are you going to cry? please don’t cry. a/n: i love to hurt but dw it’s a happy ending, i actually like this fjsk, a the time i finished this, i just posted another imagine, so i can’t wait for you guys to read this one in a couple days

every passing second makes you hyperaware of all the sympathetic stares that are currently directed at you. the feeling of pity is enveloping you whole, wrapping you in a thin layer of shame that you think must be related to the careful makeup you caked on your face for this date. your recently manicured nails scratch at the tablecloth, trying to avoid your new expensive dress, deep midnight color clinging to your nervous self. teeth stress your dark wine bottom lip, anxious eyes darting across the restaurant.

with each face that enters the place, none of them being his, the presumption that he isn’t coming solidifies. with it, comes the embarrassment. you can feel the warnings of tears, already threatening to ruin the mascara you had applied so carefully, not bothering to choose the waterproof one because why would you be crying on your date?

you suppose it’s your own fault- how dare you attempt to get over bucky? how dare you trust the words of a shield agent? you pick at your nails, gathering up the courage to stand up and leave. your waitress, however, beats you to it, a faux apologetic look on her face. “oh, so you’ve been here for, like, half an hour and it seems no one is coming, and we kind of need the table, so…”

you hold back an uncomfortable cringe, nodding stiffly as you stand. “right. i’m sorry. i don’t need to… pay for the water, right?” you ask dumbly, ducking your head when she shakes her head condescendingly.

pushing the door open, you step into the brisk air of the night, clouded over with an uneasy disappointment that you’re sure is because of you. you stand for a second to look at the stars, realizing how pretty of a night this would be if you weren’t so damn frustrated. the upset hasn’t passed yet, although the beginnings of anger are peeking up in your stomach.

while you stare up at the moon, the universe decides your getting stood up wasn’t enough, choosing to gift you with cold droplets of water that make your mascara run. it’s unbelievable, you nearly scoff tearily.

you walk to your car then, the moonlight that should have been romantic when you walked out of the restaurant now only making you feel lonely. you don’t let the tears come yet, having enough pride to not let the smitten couples appreciating the romance of the rain see you cry, deciding to put that off until you’re in the quietness of your room.

you drive in the sound of the pattering rain, concentrated on keeping your breathing even so as to push back the tears, not wanting to have an accident on the way back home because your vision was clouded over with sadness.

-

the relief you feel when you arrive at the compound is immeasurable; the knowledge that all you have to do is walk quietly to your room, and you can release the pent up emotions that eat you whole is unbelievably satisfying. the horrible itching feeling that comes with the tears arrives again when you notice your reflection in the impressively clean windows of the stark compound. through the stains of your ruined makeup, you can see the remnants of how dolled up you were, how much time was spent with the intricate details that made you smile when you looked at yourself in the mirror.

you swallow back the painful lump in your throat, opening the doors and sniffling at the dimly-lit room. your heels click tiredly on the floor, precious bracelet lightly jangling when you move. you can’t find it in yourself to care when you realize you’re dragging water inside, resigning to letting stark lecture you in the morning.

as you stand in the elevator, waiting for it to reach your floor, the emotions you’ve pushed so far down decide to spring back up in the form of an overwhelming dejected exhaustion that makes you physically slump. you lean against the cool of the metal railing, shutting your eyes hard to avoid looking at yourself. you only pry your eyes open when you hear the soft ding of the elevator, surprised and once again embarrassed to see bucky standing between the open doors.

“y/n?” he asks quietly. his demeanor immediately changes when he takes you in, body softer in the way it always is when you’re with him. his reaction makes you fall deeper, which reminds you exactly why you were going on your failed date. you straighten, clearing your throat, “um- i have to get to my room.”

your voice is thin, heightening his worries and stopping you with a gentle hand to your arm before you step off the elevator, “what’s wrong? what happened? are you okay?” he asks, and you nod blindly at all of his questions, realizing that the longer you stay with him- with his warm hand that you can’t help but lean into pressed against your cold arm- the more you really want to cry and scream because it’s not fair that he’s been given to you, yet you can’t have him, even if he has you.

“i’m fine,” you lie obviously, forcing your eyes again from his. “y/n, what happened? you’re clearly not fine,” bucky pushes, the hand on your arm beginning to rub stressed circles into your skin. you give up then, looking back at him. “i got stood up,” you say finally, words cracked. you shake your head, “and i just spent so much time on everything and-”

“that’s stupid. who would stand you up?” bucky interrupts, eyes genuinely confused while you scoff. “apparently anderson from security,” you respond bitterly, looking away. “he’s stupid, y/n. he has to be to not go to a date with you.”

you exhale frustratedly, “maybe not. maybe there’s something wrong with me and i’m the stupid one for even thinking someone would want to go out with me,” you countered. “hey, no, you are- you are amazing, y/n. amazing and stunning and intelligent and he missed his chance to be the luckiest guy in the world,” he insisted, gently pulling your attention back to him with a gentle hand on your cheek. you give him a watery laugh through the loud, unfair questions in your head: why don’t you love me like i love you, then?

you don’t realize the tears that run down the streaks of already ruined mascara until bucky points them out, wiping them away with his fingers, “no, no, don’t cry, please don’t cry,” he begs. you can’t help it, though, biting your lip to hold back your unrequited confessions of love.

“nobody wants me. i don’t even think i want me anymore,” you weep, oblivious to the breaking of bucky’s heart when he hears your words, pulling you flush against his chest. “don’t say that, doll. that’s not true-”

“it is. what other reasons can you think of that explain why i��m the only one that’s shown up to the rare dates i’ve been on? why have i had to go on those stupid dates just to forget how pathetic i am that i can’t get over you?”

you’re too deep in the ocean of your thoughts to realize what you’ve said, too little light available in the dark to let you realize the hints you have and will undoubtedly let out if you continue blubbering into bucky’s shoulder like the mess you are. your feelings are scattered, words so disorganized that any way you piece them together will be a mistake. “why else does the one person who i actually want to love me back not want me?”

bucky can make sense of the words you’re saying, the heavy weight they carry when he realizes exactly what they mean, and what you imply. he’s frozen, heart simultaneously fluttering at the mere thought of his feelings being returned and breaking at the cries you’re letting out because of him.

he’s refused to ever be the source of your pain, restricting his own poems of confessions because he didn’t want to hurt you, never wanting to be the reason you cried. he supposes now it was the wrong choice, one he needs to fix.

the bead of insecurity buried stubbornly in his mind shrieks, however, because he’s as clueless as you are and can’t possibly imagine someone like you- so kind and pure and good- loving him back. so he needs to make sure, needs to hear you say it in your voice.

“what?” you let out a watery scoff, full of embarrassment rather than annoyance at him, “don’t make me say it, bucky, please-”

“please say it- i- i need you to say it.”

a beat of silence passes before you sniffle, pulling away from the man you’ve called your best friend and wanted nothing but to be able to call him more. “i love you, bucky. in a way that makes me pretty sure you’re my soulmate because i don’t even believe in that but you make me feel like i should.”

bucky’s storm clouds lighten, doubts dissolving when he listens to what you said, tasting your words and examining each one just to remember it. he pulls your lips to his when they’ve barely processed. “you should,” he says when he pulls away for a second, only to make you lose your breath again when he aches for you immediately, kissing you again, “believe in soulmates.”

“why is that?” you ask breathlessly, letting him pull you back in because you both have been waiting- dreaming about this for so damn long, and he isn’t sure he’ll ever be able to keep away from you now that he has you. he presses a sloppy kiss to your lips, so perfectly imperfect when your teeth clash and you both laugh gently, noses nudging each other when he leans his forehead on yours, “because we’re meant to be, y/n. in that way that soulmates are.”