#it's a constant feel of worry for no reason and its been hard to breathe my head hurts i'm nauseous im shaking constantly | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

darkmatilda · 28 days ago

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𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐨𝐟𝐟 | 𝐬. 𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: spencer takes care of you after a serious accident.

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬/𝐩𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐭𝐰: hospital, rehabilitation, neck and brain injury, nud1ty

𝐚/𝐧: this is one of the potential endings of my fanfiction "with the light off" which officialy remains open up to your own interpretation. this version written to comfort all the hearts i've broken <3

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 11k

Spencer felt embarrassed by how, just an hour after leaving the apartment, he already wanted to call her.

She had already occupied a near-constant presence in the back of his mind, slipping in like a shadow—elusive and playful—darting between his thoughts, flitting from one corner to another whenever he tried, even briefly, to forget about her. But now? After that night they had spent together?

Spencer knew a lot about obsession. He understood the weight of the word and was acutely aware of its gravity. Yet he couldn’t deny it—he was obsessed with her. Physical contact had always been a sensitive yet profoundly significant subject for him. He didn’t allow many people that close.

For him, touch was the ultimate proof of closeness and trust. Intimacy bred attachment. This wasn’t about desire in its rawest form—it was something else… though he wasn’t entirely sure what. He couldn’t define the bond they shared.

He felt bored, detached from the world when she wasn’t in it, and the only thing keeping him tethered to some semblance of normality was the thought—the imagining—that at this very moment, they were breathing the same air.

He was starting to think he might be losing his mind.

He held off on calling her precisely to avoid coming across as a lunatic in her eyes. He managed to restrain himself only once he was at work, where the seriousness of his profession demanded it. In a way, though, he felt lighter. Throughout the day, he was buoyed by the thought of their upcoming meeting, the excitement it brought—and the nerves. That mixture of emotions was enough to make the entire team glance at him with curiosity.

Garcia was handing out case files, her hair recently dyed a vibrant shade of red. Rossi, instead of opening his folder like everyone else, was watching Spencer from across the table, leaning on his elbow.

“Did you win the lottery or something?” he asked, so unexpectedly that Spencer glanced around at the others, unsure who the question was meant for.

When he realized the question was directed at him, he swallowed hard. Morgan’s raised eyebrow seemed to challenge him to a duel.

“Not that I know of. Why?”

“Because you’re practically glowing, sweetheart,” Penelope chimed in with a sly smile. “Don’t think you’re getting away without telling me everything later. I’ll get it out of you, don’t you worry. But for now, let’s get started…”

They immersed themselves in the case, but a few hours later, during a brief moment of downtime, he realized he was looking for an excuse to call her. Was a simple desire to ask what she was up to reason enough?

He wondered if she was still at his apartment. He hoped she was. He knew she’d eventually have to leave to prepare for the shift she was starting later that afternoon, but he couldn’t shake the unease gnawing at him about the whole situation with her roommate’s ex-boyfriend.

Realizing he’d been staring at his phone for far too long and that he’d soon need to get back to work, he made a snap decision and called.

But no one answered.

Logically, he reasoned that mornings were probably her time to sleep. Afterward, he tried sending a text message. But by late evening, when he finally returned to his apartment, he was starting to feel genuinely worried.

The question nagged at him: could it have been about the previous night? Maybe he’d done or said something wrong, something that had put her off completely?

Slowly, he walked into the bedroom, pausing in the doorway as his eyes landed on the perfectly made bed. It definitely hadn’t looked like that when he left it.

Then his gaze fell on the slightly ajar safe, and he froze. The combination was incredibly complicated, so he must have left it open when he took out his gun and badge. Besides those items, there was one more thing inside.

He had once again fallen into the trap of keeping Dilaudid close, even though he wasn’t using it. Was it possible she found it, and that’s why she hadn’t reached out?

It wasn’t that he had lied to her about being clean. She had seen how much effort it took for him to talk about it, so she approached the subject with incredible subtlety, never asking directly, but watching him closely, carefully, yet without pressing.

If she had really found it in his safe, she might have felt betrayed. Or maybe she decided she didn’t want to get involved with someone who had such a problem. Perhaps she had seen the whole previous night as one big mistake and then decided to throw him out of her life. Spencer, though it pained him, couldn’t help but feel that he deserved it.

He sat on the bed, crushed by his own thoughts. Something didn’t sit right with the version of events he had imagined. First and foremost, she wasn’t the type of person who would turn him away because of this. Her heart ached to help others; she couldn’t ignore someone else’s troubles. Even if he had hurt her, her immense capacity for understanding would have remained intact. Empathy was imprinted on her, like a deep, unshakable mark.

Driven by a hunch, he reached for his phone to call her again. That’s when he noticed two missed calls from an unknown number, just fifteen minutes ago.

He pressed the phone to his ear, his brow furrowing in confusion as he heard the first sound on the other end… a sob?

The sound went on and on, and Spencer was too confused to utter a single word.

“Who am I talking to?” he finally asked. Unable to stop himself, he stood up. He didn’t even know what was going on or who he was talking to, but he sprang to his feet anyway. His body compelled him, his insides twisting with unpleasant spasms.

It could just as well have been some stupid prank. The problem was, it wasn’t.

“H-hey, it’s J-Jude,” a voice came from the other end. Female, shaky, and choked with sobs so severe that if he didn’t already know her name, he would never have guessed he was speaking to her roommate. He stopped pacing the room. “I-it was me…I called earlier. S-she doesn’t have any…any family, and I didn’t know…I didn’t know who to inform…I can’t handle this on my own…they just took her away again…”

It wasn’t as if the world suddenly came to a halt. It simply became both sharper and blurrier at the same time. Spencer could see that single, bright strand of hair on the pillow with perfect clarity, yet his own legs seemed out of reach. When he looked down, all he saw was darkness stretching below him. Somehow, he was still breathing.

“What are you talking about?” he asked. Later, he couldn’t explain how his voice—those first words—had sounded so composed. “W-who took her… where… and why…?

“I have no fucking idea!” she shouted, followed by a long silence during which Jude took a desperate gasp of air. “I mean, I do, I do know! They just brought her in, but... but suddenly they took her back because there was some kind of…bleeding…”

“...ding?” he blurted out, the first syllable swallowed entirely by his panic.

“No, I don’t want anything to calm me down, I am calm, can’t you tell?” Her voice grew distant, as if she’d pulled the phone away from her mouth. Then it came back, clear and pleading. “Please, come here…”

She hung up. The phone slipped from his hand as if it burned him. In a frenzy, he bent down to grab it, only to drop it again. Finally, he fell to his knees, managing at last to pick it up. As he stood, he felt as though some substance was spreading through his brain—black, toxic, and utterly destructive. Its effects left him barely tethered to reality. He could hear and see, but everything was overlaid with Jude’s words, looping in his mind like printed text on a screen.

The next thirty minutes were a blur.

How could it be logically explained that, in a state of complete detachment from the outside world, he somehow managed to figure out, based on the map of the area imprinted in his memory, which specific hospital she was in? How did his panicked, trembling hands manage to cover that distance by car without causing an accident?

The only thing he knew was that he ended up at the nearest hospital, wearing just a shirt with no outer layer. It was shocking that he even had shoes on.

He should have been looking for the woman who had called him, demanding every bit of information she had. But somehow, instinctively, his eyes searched for someone else—a familiar face. He prayed it was all some sort of misunderstanding. Maybe he was fooling himself, hoping to spot her among the people passing by. A part of him simply refused to accept the possibility that anything could have happened to her.

Nothing had happened.

She was fine.

Her blue eyes were soaking in the surroundings, their gaze carrying that faint sparkle that always appeared at night. Maybe there was even a smile on her lips. He couldn’t—wouldn’t—allow himself to imagine what might have happened to her. It felt as though the universe itself should be ashamed for ever entertaining the thought of harming her.

"Are you family?" the man at reception asked. Spencer nodded. "I'm sorry, but I can't provide you with any information,"

"Just tell me, is she alive?"

"I can't…"

"Just fucking tell me…"

"They’re operating on her right now," a voice spoke from behind him. Spencer turned and blinked. Only then did he realize he was in a hospital. Before, he’d only had a goal—an urgent need to get there. The surroundings were just beginning to take shape in his mind. He had never seen this woman before, but he guessed it had to be Jude. Her face was swollen from crying, but she seemed less shaken than during their call. She had probably accepted the sedatives. "Again. First, they spent almost four hours working on her neck… they said she was stable, asleep, but then suddenly there was that bleeding… I watched them take her out of the room right in front of me…"

“Did you see her?”

Unexpectedly, she hid her face in her hands.

“I didn’t know who to call. She mentioned you a few times, and I had your number, and I didn’t know what to do…” she began explaining chaotically, as if it mattered at all. “It’s my fault, you know, all of this is my fucking fault…”

They were standing right in front of the receptionist, blocking his access to others who needed help. Spencer snapped back to the moment, pulling her a few steps aside.

“W-what did you say? That they operated on her for four hours?”

“Yes, the first time…”

So, she had been there for at least four hours. Longer, considering the time needed after surgery before visiting a patient. Pain spread across his chest. While he was wondering why she hadn’t answered his calls, coming to various conclusions, she had been fighting for her life?

He... had been at work, moving around, talking to others, living, while all of this was happening? He felt as if... as if he had betrayed her. It was absurd, even he knew that. Despite the state he was in—tragic, to be precise—he understood just how absurd that thought was. But he couldn’t stop the guilt and shame that washed over him every time he tried to imagine her on the operating table while he had been completely unaware of her condition.

“I need to sit down," Jude muttered, and after a moment, they found themselves on narrow chairs lined along the hospital walls. Spencer barely managed to force his knees to bend, his body to settle into the seat.

He was only beginning to adjust to the foreign gravity that was pressing down on him.

In his head, there was only one thought, one resolution, one desire. The only thing that could save him from losing his mind in this waiting room.

"I need to see her."

"We have to wait," Jude replied, pressing her hand to her forehead. More tears appeared in her eyes. She wasn’t just terrified, she was completely falling apart. "We... we once gave each other permission to access information about our health. You know, in case of an accident. The doctors told me everything. A neck sprain. A concussion. Two broken ribs and a broken forearm." Although her speech had been unclear earlier, when she listed the injuries, she sounded like a movie announcer.

Spencer quickly realized that these words must have been echoing in her head since they were first told to her. The same thing had been happening to him. Each word was like a blow delivered with full force, and his extensive medical knowledge wasn’t helping him avoid panic. He was too aware of the danger and too aware of the suffering her poor body must have endured.

They both squeezed their eyes shut tightly. Spencer felt as though his temples might explode. Waiting. Was there anything worse in the world than waiting? Being stuck in ignorance, teetering between uncertainty, relief, and utter despair? Feeling all of it at once?

"How did this even happen?" he asked the woman sitting next to him.

He was sure he already knew the answer to that question. She didn’t even need to say it. It was enough to see how she dropped her gaze, heavy with pain, and how tightly her jaw clenched.

“She... fell down the stairs.”

Spencer wanted to scoff at the understatement. The real version of events couldn’t pass Jude’s lips, but in some way, he considered that a blessing. If Jude had openly admitted that she had been pushed, he might have crumbled under the weight of the fury flooding him. But for now, his anger didn’t matter. Only the passing time did.

He felt as if he hadn’t taken a single breath since leaving his apartment. Leaning his head back in his seat, he endured what felt like two whole days, then glanced at his watch only to realize that exactly forty-seven seconds had passed.

Time—a relative concept. In physics and in human perception. Einstein had proven it, and so had that particular moment.

He started to fear that he might never leave the waiting room. Memories and emotions began to blur together. He formed a theory: that he had been trapped there for quite some time—weeks, perhaps. Back when another loved one had been on the operating table, and he’d been losing his mind in much the same way.

Could it be that, under the strain of this torturous waiting, he’d lost his sanity? That his brain, desperate for relief, had simply imagined everything that followed? The trip to the library that night, finding himself at her door, the string lights on the Christmas tree, the Venus flytrap, the bar, opening the door that night and seeing her on the stairwell—at once flushed from a night spent at the club and chilled from the December air?

And now that illusion had simply shattered, like a fragment of broken glass. He was back in the waiting room again, waiting, hurting too much—and yet feeling as though he had no right to. His pain was nothing compared to what she was going through. He should be doing something, anything, to make himself useful, to not succumb to the weight of his own helplessness.

When the doctor finally approached them, Spencer almost knocked over his chair in his haste to stand. The doctor, however, focused solely on Jude as he delivered the update, leaving Spencer questioning whether he even existed.

“We managed to stop the bleeding. That’s the good news,” he began, his dark eyes unreadable—at once cool and concerned, with the practiced composure characteristic of people in his profession.

“Thank God,” Jude whispered, rubbing her chest as if trying to calm the frantic beating of her heart.

Spencer, on the other hand, felt no relief. Not even a sliver.

"‘That’s good news,’" he repeated the doctor’s words, drawing the man’s gaze to him. ‘But… but is there something bad?’

That brief moment before the doctor answered felt longer than nearly the past two hours of waiting.

“Due to suspected brain swelling, we had to induce a coma.’

“What?’ Jude mouthed silently. “How… how could she be in a coma? Why? Was that necessary?’

“They needed to reduce the intracranial pressure,’ Spencer replied, the words spilling from his mouth without him even realizing he was speaking. ‘The coma prevents further damage and minimizes the brain’s oxygen consumption. But will she… how long will she…?’

“Only for a few days,’ the doctor assured him, understanding the question he couldn’t quite form. “As long as there are no further complications or additional bleeding. But I can reassure you for now: there’s no indication of that. Her condition seems stable. She was… incredibly lucky. It was a serious accident—a miracle, a sheer miracle—that she didn’t break her spine.’"

For a moment, he couldn’t utter a single word, his throat still tight, and the relief never came. He knew he wouldn’t feel it until he saw her, fully conscious and awake. Until that happened, he would grimace every time he heard the word miracle.

"When will I be able to see her?" he asked, surprisingly calm and composed. The question was so important to him that his voice didn’t tremble even once. In fact, it was the only thing that mattered right now.

"You’ll need to wait a few hours before visiting. We have to make sure there’s no risk of a sudden deterioration in her condition. Also, only authorized individuals can visit her."

The last part of the doctor’s statement felt almost like a slap in the face.

"How many hours?" he pressed, impatience creeping into his voice. "Two? Four? Six?"

"Please, calm down," the doctor asked, making a gesture with his hand.

“Eight?”

His voice grew increasingly sharp, desperately demanding an answer. The doctor opened his mouth to respond, but Jude interrupted with a question.

"As an authorized person, can I, on behalf of the patient, allow him to visit?" she asked, catching Spencer’s gaze for a brief moment before quickly turning away. "She would want this, I know it."

The doctor shook his head in refusal, providing them with a few more details about the surgery before turning to leave. Spencer watched him leave, something in him wavering between a sigh and a snort. So they wouldn’t even let him visit her? He understood the hospital procedures and rules perfectly well, but when it came to his own case, he hated them with all his heart. They wouldn’t allow him to see someone who meant so much to him, simply because they weren’t bound by blood or a ring on his finger. A ring on his finger… maybe he should lie and say they were engaged? Although, would it really make any difference in the eyes of the hospital staff?

Before the loose fragments in his mind began to form a plan, he noticed that Jude was staring at him. She had sat down again, pressing her back tightly against the chair's backrest. She hadn’t cried for a while now; a certain relief had settled on her face when she heard the surgery had been successful, but then the old devastation returned, stronger than ever before.

"I won’t be able to visit her," she said, her voice hollow. "Not even while she’s unconscious. And when she wakes up, look her in the eyes. Tell me, how could I do that after everything? After all of this was my fault?"

Spencer turned away and walked off.

He knew that if he didn’t, something inside him would break. He couldn’t stop the anger he felt toward Jude. From what he knew, she had repeatedly refused to report her ex-boyfriend to the police, perhaps more or less aware of the danger he posed. She had the right to do so, theoretically. But that didn’t change the fact that someone else had suffered because of her foolish decision.

In his eyes she deserved the guilt she felt.

Not knowing what to do with himself, he found a place far from her, far from anyone, where he spent the next few hours, hardly moving. Sometimes he observed the relatives of other patients in the hospital, also broken, but he had some selfish feeling that even they wouldn’t understand what he felt. He placed himself on some distant, elite orbit of suffering and felt almost embarrassed by it.

Pain always makes sure that a person feels as lonely and misunderstood as possible in it. That is when it has the most power over them.

He kept away from the windows, the darkness outside, slowly losing its intensity, putting him into a state of shock and contemplation. Maybe time was a relative concept, but that didn’t change the fact that it existed. Somewhere far away, there was light beyond this waiting room.

For some time now, he had been occupied with a certain task. He was aware of the hours passing and how, with them, his desperation grew. He felt he would go mad if he didn’t see her. The designated time during which the patient should be ensured complete rest after surgery had ended, yet he knew they wouldn’t let him in to see her. But he had a brain for a reason, right?"

He found the room where everything that mattered to him at that moment was. A young doctor was just leaving.

"Excuse me, ma'am,” he approached her politely, trying to appear calm, though his appearance and trembling hands clearly suggested otherwise. “I need to visit this patient.”

“Are you a relative?”

“No, actually…” He knew this was a desperate move and resorting to a lie, but he didn’t care. What was morality in his situation? Just a word. He reached for the badge he had with him and cleared his throat. “I’m with the FBI. I’ve been assigned to see this particular patient; it’s a matter that cannot be delayed."

Believe it or not, but people often lost their minds at the mere mention of the FBI. Spencer suspected that such a young doctor might have some gaps in experience and not know what procedures were in place in such a situation.

The surprised woman took a half step back.

“But she’s in a coma…” she said uncertainly, turning toward the room. “Are you sure it’s this patient?”

“Absolutely. And as I said, there’s no time to waste.”

He didn’t put his badge away, still holding it raised, with a serious expression on his face, as if he were interrogating someone. It was clear she was torn with doubt, but fortunately for him, she decided to give in without consulting the decision.

Spencer almost ran into the room, unable to hold back his impatience any longer. At first, he felt as if in a dream, one where you achieve your greatest goal. However, it quickly turned into a nightmare, all because of what he saw.

Whatever he had imagined, he was not prepared for this sight.

Especially because before he even noticed her face, the face he was so desperate to see, he first noticed everything else surrounding it. The hospital equipment, the machines and devices monitoring her vital signs. The wide orthopedic collar tight around her neck. The sterile whiteness of it all, obscuring her and making her almost disappear against its backdrop. It wasn’t until he approached the bed, his legs weak and unsteady, that he started to look at her, but again, not specifically at her, but at the injuries. The sight of swollen temples, the sunken eyes, pale and dry lips, skin like a sheet of paper. Every injury on her body caused him unimaginable pain, so intense it almost stopped him from breathing. He felt so much anger and injustice that she had to go through this that he almost wanted to fall to his knees and apologize to her, beg for forgiveness. For what? He couldn’t decide. It wasn’t a need driven by logic, it was something deep inside him.

And that’s what he did, even though there was a place beside the bed where he could sit. He slowly knelt down, his hands touching the edge of the bed, but not her body. After all, he wasn’t about to risk causing her any pain due to his lack of control. But he had such an overwhelming desire to take her hand, the one whose fingers shyly peeked out from under the cast.

"I should have gone with you," he said, after about five minutes spent in complete silence, undisturbed even by his breath, which he was holding back. "I should have. Walked you to the door and made sure you got inside safely. I’m sorry…"

He felt that with his pitiful apologies, he was disturbing her peace. She needed it to fully rest. So, he fell silent again, alternating between looking at her with furrowed brows in tender concern and resting his forehead against the edge of the bed whenever the sight became too painful. While before, time seemed to crawl at the slowest possible pace, now it was racing forward wildly.

In his perception, barely a minute had passed when someone’s presence appeared behind him. He turned over his shoulder, noticing the young nurse who had let him in, and it took him a long time before he even realized it. After all, he had lied to her, saying it was some professional matter, yet she had found him kneeling by the hospital bed.

He quickly got to his feet, nervously rubbing his face.

“For the patient’s well-being, no visits should last longer than twenty minutes,” the woman said surprisingly gently, leaning slightly against the door with her shoulder. An unidentified expression lingered in her eyes, making them seem...warm.

He didn’t answer, just nodded. He no longer felt the need to play that little charade that had helped him get inside. He allowed himself one last long moment, looking at her face, peaceful in sleep. He passed the doctor in the doorway, feeling her eyes turn to him, and he did the same, out of curiosity. She smiled, sadly and with compassion.

"This had nothing to do with any FBI assignment, right?”

Her understanding seemed almost touching. However, Spencer, caught in the moment, quickly withdrew, once again making his way down the hospital corridors, now completely unsure of what to do with himself. He leaned against one of the walls, slowly feeling the fatigue from the entire night spent waiting to see her. He found his phone in his pocket, realized it was already morning, and that… Hotch had called him.

It was a quick collision with the outside world. He called back, as nothing else came to mind that he could focus on.

"Reid," the serious voice of his boss came through on the other end. "Why aren’t you at work, and why aren’t you answering?"

He needed to take a breath before he could respond.

"Sorry, Hotch," he said, trying not to sound weak, but that’s exactly how he sounded. Weak, a little pitiful, and on the verge of exhaustion. "Something... something really important happened, and... I... I won’t be able to come in today..."

Spencer realized he had no idea how to explain himself in this situation.

"I can’t remember the last day you were even late. What happened?" He didn’t answer. "Where are you?" Silence. "Spencer."

"It’s... a personal matter."

There was a brief silence from his boss, and Spencer could almost imagine how he furrowed his dark brows in confusion.

"I understand." His voice was tense, but not with disapproval, which surprised Spencer. More with... concern. Had he managed to read the seriousness of the situation just from his voice? Probably, after all, he was the best profiler Spencer knew. "You’ll need to explain later, but for now... take care of yourself. Do you need any help?”

He assured him insincerely that everything was fine and found an empty chair to sit in, hunched over. A strong pressure formed in his head, amplified by the helplessness and uncertainty about what he should do next. She was in a coma, and according to the doctor, she would be in it for the next few days. And what was he supposed to do during that time? He felt that physically, he could spend another hundred hours on that specific chair. Occasionally stretching his legs. It was his plan, one that seemed more real with every passing minute. At least, until a figure cast its shadow over him.

"Reid," a familiar voice spoke.

He looked up, surprised, at Morgan. His mouth was slightly open in confusion, his forehead deeply furrowed.

"What are you doing here?"

"How... how did you know where I was?" That was the first thing that came to his mind.

"Penelope. How she knew, I have no idea, but I’m starting to suspect that her joke about having us all chipped wasn’t really a joke. But anyway, what’s going on? Hotch told me you called, and you sounded... unsettling."

His friend was watching him closely. His wrinkled clothes, his tired face.

"So... Hotch sent you to find me?"

"Reid, you’re our friend. Did you really think we wouldn’t be worried about you?"

Spencer lowered his head, listening to his words. Derek was silent for a moment, his hands resting on his hips, his tense face scanning the surroundings. After a while, he focused his gaze back on him.

"Who is the person you’re visiting?"

He hesitated before answering, not because he didn’t want to share the information, but because he wasn’t sure how to refer to her. What should he call her? After all, it wasn’t like they were in an official relationship, and the word friend seemed to leave something unsaid.

“Someone... someone very important to me. She had an accident. She has... a cervical spine injury, and the doctors, suspecting brain swelling, decided to put her into a coma for a while.”

Morgan's eyes widened.

“Damn, Reid. I’m so... I’m so sorry.”

He sat down on the empty chair beside him, his face still showing shock. Exhausted, Spencer simply rested his head on his knees, no longer able to keep his posture straight. He felt drained, yet at the same time, he couldn’t bring himself to leave—couldn’t leave her…

Morgan’s hand fell onto his back, and finally, then sighed.

“Come here, man.”

With a firm pull, he drew him into an embrace.

Spencer found it hard to admit, even to himself, how much he needed this. No words left their mouths for a long while; only that brotherly, supportive embrace remained between them.

“Have you seen her?” Morgan asked after a while.

He confirmed, but didn’t reveal the circumstances. His friend paused for a moment, as if he wanted to say something but hesitated.

“Okay, listen to me. You need to get back to yourself.”

Spencer scoffed and shook his head, ready to argue.

“Let me finish. I know you don’t want to leave her right now, but with all due respect, you look like death. You need to eat and get some sleep.”

“I can’t,” Spencer replied firmly.

“You’re going to collapse soon. You said she’ll be in a coma for a few days. You won’t make it sitting here, think realistically. No one’s asking you to go back to work, you just need to rest.” He looked at him seriously, knowing how hard it would be to convince him. Finally, he sighed once more. “Do it for her, alright? Do you really think she’d want you to wear yourself out like this?”

He had no ready answer for that. Well, he did, but it sounded like no, she wouldn’t want that.

“I’ll take you home. For God’s sake, you came here without even a coat?”

It's a strange feeling to let someone take care of you. Completely. Derek not only drove him to his apartment but also came inside with him. There was no emotional discussion between them, which he found to be a relief. Silent support, he thought.

His relationship with the other team members had been tested after Emily's death—or at least, that's what he had thought up until now. He had begun isolating himself, not wanting to intrude on their grief or burden them with his own problems. But in reality—something he hadn’t seen until now—it had been the opposite. It strengthened their bond.

The next few days revolved mainly around hospital visits. Somehow, he had managed to gain visiting rights, and the time spent by her side filled him with a certain sense of calm. He could see how stable her vital signs were, and he clung to the doctors’ reassurances that she would regain consciousness in just a few days.

He once read a series of articles and interviews with people who had been in comas. Their accounts sometimes contradicted medical facts and often included embellishments, but a significant number of them mentioned remembering the voices of loved ones and certain sounds.

He didn’t want her to remember only the sounds of medical equipment from this period. But he also wasn’t sure what he could talk to her about. Would she want to hear about the overly salted carbonara that Garcia had forced an entire pot of on him? Or about the abstract mural being painted across from his apartment—something he was sure she would have liked?

In the end, he decided to read to her, though choosing what to read proved challenging. Sleeping Beauty seemed too ironic, even though she would probably laugh about it later. She had once told him Girl, Interrupted was her favorite book, but its hospital setting made him suspect she might prefer something that let her escape this place, even if only in her imagination. The Silence of the Lambs referenced one of their past conversations, but if a doctor overheard him reading it to her, he would surely be banned from visiting altogether.

“All right,” he began one day, sitting down in the chair by her bed. “I know you’re not a big fan of fantasy. And yes, you’ll have every right to call me out on this when you wake up. But still, I hope you’ll like it.”

Arabian Nights was a collection of tales and stories originating from the Middle East, India, and Persia. Somehow, he assumed that the mysterious, often nocturnal atmosphere might resonate with her, even soothe her. After all, night had always been her favorite time of day—the backdrop to so much of her life.

That day, as he was about to leave, he leaned slightly over her bed, lowering his voice to a whisper.

"Tomorrow, I'll read you a romance, how does that sound? But I’ll have to go to the bookstore because, despite your beliefs, I don’t have any in my collection. I wish I’d had more time to get to know your reading preferences better."

During none of his previous visits had he touched her, afraid it might disturb her peace in some negative way. Besides... in the state she was in, she looked so fragile and delicate that he feared even the slightest touch could hurt her. But that time, he simply couldn’t hold back. After a long internal struggle, he placed a very brief kiss on her forehead.

Spencer couldn’t keep his promise. While he did buy a romance novel recommended to him with enthusiasm by a young bookstore clerk, he never had the chance to read it to her.

The next day, he received a message.

She had woken up.

You didn’t remember much.

Only fragmented scraps. The memories began with a brief moment of complete physical helplessness, a terrible pain in your neck, and a series of flashing lights mingling with raised voices—even shouting. Then came silence, vile and terrifying.

But that wasn’t the end. Something came after the silence.

Softly spoken stories. For some reason, they were comforting. In your mind, only a few blurred images remained—no clear events or words. What you remembered most was that soothing, calm voice. It felt like an embrace, like warm bedding, the first rays of cosmic light piercing through clouds, or the gentle chill of evening air.

It was… beautiful. But it couldn’t last forever. After an indeterminate amount of time, your body decided to reject that comfort and tried to open its eyes. It was an excruciating effort. You sighed with the strain. The first colors and surreal shapes began to appear before you. Slowly, you started to become aware of your existence, yet at the same time, you felt suspended somewhere outside your body and mind—alone and terrified.

The sensations were both faint and overwhelmingly intense, making you want to hide, to somehow cut yourself off from them. Yet you were equally afraid to close your eyes again. You muttered things that made no sense. You remained in this panicked state until two tiny brown points hovered above you, widening with concern. Only then were you able to calm down—at least enough to stop straining your body with attempts to move. Attempts, because your body seemed entirely unwilling to follow your commands.

The fear buried itself deep within you, drilling into your chest. At first, it suffocated you, but eventually, it began to weaken and fade.

This was how the first hours after waking from the coma unfolded.

Weakness, disorientation, mumbling, pain, discomfort, and light sensitivity.

It took a long time before you regained awareness of being in a hospital. Even more time passed before you remembered why. And then, your own condition and state.

You were so incredibly weak that it filled you with disgust, terrified by how much effort even the smallest movement required—like the twitch of a finger or the blink of an eye. Frustrated by it all, you cried, and he cried too. But his tears were born of relief and joy.

Those two specific emotions reached you the latest—only after they transferred you to a different ward, and your thoughts began to clear. Relief and joy. Hand in hand with fear and anxiety.

It felt so unreal, yet it was real—real like nothing else, and it held you tightly, exactly the way you needed it to.

Spencer was aware that her awakening was just another step in a very long journey.

His medical knowledge, modestly speaking, was fairly extensive, and he understood the gravity of the injuries she had sustained. Their first meeting after she had opened her eyes for the first time was nothing like a scene from a movie. She was confused, still drowsy, and as she slowly started to comprehend everything, she was primarily terrified. Her body, after the time spent in the coma, though brief, was extremely weak, and every little movement exhausted her as though she had just run a marathon.

The fear on her face pierced his chest.

He had the impression that none of the words he spoke, almost whispered in an attempt to calm her, were having any effect.

"I... I can't move," she stammered as one of the first things she said. Her eyes intensely focused on his face, searching for safety in it, and he feared he wouldn't be able to provide it for her.

"It's just temporary," he reassured her gently, leaning over her bed and trying to smile, but it came out uncertain, he was too worried about her condition. "The doctors say so, and that's the truth. Your body is just very weak right now."

"Will... will it be like this forever?"

"No, no, it will pass. I promise, it will pass," he nodded fervently. She hesitated and took a breath, as though discovering an entirely new action. But as soon as she did, out of fear, it became fast and irregular. He was terrified that his touch might cause her pain, but he didn't know what else he could do to help her. Gently, as gently as he could, he placed his hand on her cheek, barely grazing it with his thumb. "You'll feel better soon. Really, it won’t be long now. For now... just don’t overexert yourself, please, breathe."

At first, she flinched. He wanted to withdraw his hand as quickly as possible, but then he felt her press her face against it, almost nuzzling into it. A shy tear danced in one of her eyes, barely noticeable.

"It’s good to see you," she said after a brief silence, a soft sigh escaping her lips—almost like a laugh, though it didn’t quite make it. Her breath was still shallow and uneven, but with each passing moment, it seemed to steady as he held her close.

And in that moment, seeing her like that, feeling her presence so close, a smile spread across his face—a smile so genuine, so long-awaited—and with it came the tears he’d been holding back for what felt like forever.

"I feel the same," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "You have no idea how much."

The orthopedic collar pissed you off like nothing else.

It wasn’t even the discomfort that bothered you, it was just... the collar was such a painful reminder of your condition, a testament to what you had been through. And you were supposed to wear it for another six to eight weeks.

Two weeks after waking from the coma, preparations for leaving the hospital were beginning. The risk of brain swelling had subsided, the injuries were healing, and the concussion still made its presence known, but the pain was no longer as intense. You could even have a normal conversation, which you seized almost immediately, striking up a chat with the teenage girl in the bed next to you, her sad expression tugging at your heart.

Few people visited you; you preferred that the two most important ones could spend as much time with you as possible, rather than inviting coworkers or acquaintances you hadn’t spoken to in months. The two most important people.

Spencer had been with you since the moment you woke up, and as the doctor confessed to you with a small smile, he had also stayed by your side while you were in a coma. You were in shock. Not because he had done it—it made perfect sense, given his caring nature. The shock came from the simple fact that one person could care so deeply about another, about you.

It didn’t take long for you to realize that the moments when he visited you became your favorite part of the entire day. And not just because they revolved around checking your condition, tests, and the first, incredibly light rehabilitation exercises. You simply found yourself waiting for the moment he would appear in that doorway again, holding his coat in hand, smiling.

"Hello, handsome stranger," you greeted him one day, the first day you were starting to feel better.

Spencer stopped at the sound of that term, tilting his head with an even wider smile.

"How else did I used to call you?" you mused aloud. "Ah, I used to call you Mr. Mysterious. But I suppose that's no longer fitting, you smile too much to seem mysterious."

"Because I have a reason," he replied, stopping beside your bed and glancing at the flowers placed there, the ones that had greeted you when you woke up that day. "But in that case, 'Handsome stranger' doesn’t fit either, since you know me now."

"But you are handsome. Half of it fits, so I have the right to call you that. Who... who sent me these flowers?"

"Better question would be, who didn’t send you those?" he muttered, referring to their large number. You could only admire them—the beautiful, colorful arrangements—but you hadn’t had the chance to read the notes and messages attached. Spencer glanced at one of them, his smile fading, though not in a bad way... somehow, the expression that appeared on his face was even more pleasing than his smile. "This... this one’s from my team."

You were simply speechless.

"They... they even know I exist?"

"Of course they do, how could they not?" Spencer paused for a moment, looking at you thoughtfully. "They... they were with me the whole time you were in a coma. They helped me keep my head together."

"Don’t exaggerate," you tried to dispel the sudden serious mood. You didn’t want to delude yourself into thinking he had been that worried about you during that time.

"It’s not an exaggeration," he replied briefly and seriously, his face almost motionless.

For a moment, you fell silent, your hands resting on the blanket in front of you.

"Sorry, Spencer. I just realized I’ve never thanked you for this..."

"What?" he asked, surprised, his brows furrowing. "This isn’t something you have to thank me for..."

"But I feel like I have to. This... this isn’t some small, silly favor. You really did so much for me... I still don’t fully understand why..."

"You don’t understand why?"

"Yeah," you sighed uncertainly, not sure how to put it into words. "Don’t get me wrong... I’m so grateful to you, it’s just... look at it this way. We didn’t know each other that long, we saw each other rarely. We slept together once. It’s not like you were…obligated to help me."

"I didn’t have to be obligated to do it," he said after a moment of hesitation, circling your bed and sitting on the edge, just barely touching it. "And I didn’t have to know you for years. I just wanted to do it because of how much I cared about you. And if that explanation doesn’t convince you... then..." He swallowed hard. "Remember, you were there for me during one of the worst moments of my life."

“It’s not the same...”

“Oh, but it is. For me, it is. But I don’t want you to think that I was there for you because I felt like I owed you something. Or that I had to... I don’t know... repay you in some way. That’s not it at all.”

You didn’t answer, something tight gripped your throat. You just tilted your head, overwhelmed with emotion, speechless. The only thing you truly wanted to do was stretch out your arms and drape them around his neck, resting your chin on his shoulder. Spencer sighed, surprised and tense. It wasn’t until a brief moment passed that his hands gently touched your back.

“How much longer are you going to act like I’m made of glass?” you asked.

You knew his caution was justified, but Jesus. You just really wanted to hug him properly.

“Probably forever,” he replied, to which you rolled your eyes.

He was the one to break the hug, but in compensation, he quickly kissed the top of your head. You leaned back against the bed, feeling a pleasant sensation in your stomach. Spencer returned to the flowers to tell you who had sent them all.

“So these are from my team,” he picked up the lost thread, pointing to the arrangement of white and pink carnations. He chuckled. “And I’m pretty sure Penelope picked them out, not just because her name is listed first. White represents perseverance and strength. Pink stands for admiration and respect.”

“That’s really thoughtful. And beautiful. I’ll have to thank them. And these tulips?”

Spencer took the note attached to the mentioned flowers between his fingers.

“From... Jerry.”

“What? My husband sent me flowers?”

“What?” He jerked his head up in surprise.

You laughed so hard at the look on his face that it made you wince in your ribs.

“I’m fucking kidding, you fool,” you replied, clutching your side with a groan. “Jerry is the librarian. You should know him. He once asked me what flowers he should buy for his wife, and I suggested yellow tulips. By the way, it's so nice of him”.

You said it affectionately, but it sounded incredibly weak. Along with the pain in your ribs, a headache joined in, and suddenly all the energy you'd had earlier evaporated.

“What's happening? Should I call a doctor?”

“No,” you shook your head in refusal. “I just need to lie down for a moment. Come here.”

Spencer followed your request and sat beside your bed, his body a little stiff, as if in guilt.

"I'm sorry I made you laugh."

"That's probably the strangest thing you could apologize for," you muttered, lying down in the position that was best for your neck, one you almost hated as much as the orthopedic collar. "Well, I guess I could come up with something stranger. Sorry I left that million dollars in your nightstand. It won't happen again."

"I'm not sure if this kind of chatter is particularly good for your condition."

"It helps me mentally, and that's what matters most. Besides, stop complaining."

"How could I possibly dare?"

He fell silent, simply watching you with quiet concern. You closed your eyes for a moment, unsure if you might accidentally drift off. After spending a week in a coma, your sleep routine had become completely erratic. You slept through the nights, mostly because there was little else to do, and you didn’t want to disturb the other patients in the ward. During the day, Spencer would visit, and you wanted to be as rested as possible when he was around.

When he wasn’t there, you sometimes napped during the day as well. According to the doctors, it was one of the best things you could do for your recovery—sleep and rest as much as your body needed.

"Is something bothering you?" he asked.

You hesitated for a long moment, because yes, something was weighing heavily on your mind. Had he guessed, or had he read it on your face?

“It’s just…” you began with a sigh. “You know Jude barely visits me? I mean, she shows up every day, but… she’s so tense and distant when she’s here. She doesn’t say much, and she won’t look me in the eyes.”

"She’s blaming herself," Spencer said softly.

“God, that’s so stupid,” you muttered.

You had a strange relationship with the accident. You thought about it as little as possible, keeping it at arm’s length. You knew Richard had been arrested, but you didn’t want to know the details of his sentencing. In no way did you see any of it as Jude’s fault, and it hurt you deeply to think that she did.

You spent a quiet moment together before Spencer leaned over you again, intending to kiss your forehead.

“I’m sorry, but I’ll have to go now,” he said, to which you nodded in understanding.

But then you shifted your head, pulling back just enough to stop him from brushing his lips against your forehead. He looked at you, puzzled, since you’d never minded it before.

This time, though, you wanted him to kiss you on the lips.

He kissed you slowly. You had almost forgotten how he tasted.

After that, you didn’t bother opening your eyes again. You let yourself imagine that he wasn’t leaving at all, and with that comforting thought, you drifted off to sleep.

Spencer had felt strange since the morning.

Energized and excited. In the absolute best possible way.

That day, he could finally take her home. Well, to his apartment. She needed someone to take care of her, and he felt honored to be that person.

The day before, he had made a very important, yet difficult decision. He invited JJ over and confessed everything to her—about the past few weeks and his struggles with relapsing into addiction. He needed to rid himself of that burden. Besides, he had promised himself that as long as she was living with him, not even the smallest dose of Dilaudid would find its way inside. Never again.

In his worst moments, he imagined that his friend would react with disgust—pure, painful disgust—and push him away. Instead, her eyes filled with something strange the moment he began to speak about how he had felt after Emily's death. Over and over, she whispered apologies, as though she were the one responsible for it.

He still missed Emily, of course, and he knew he would always miss her. That was just the way of things—people left, and it was up to you to decide whether you would remember them with heartbreaking despair or with a wistful sigh. In fact, these were merely two ends of the same spectrum, and it was very easy to get stuck at the beginning, unable to move forward.

She was surprisingly quiet in the car and seemed depressed. Actually, it was hard not to blame her. She had spent a long time in the hospital, gotten used to that routine, and the change made her feel lost. Sitting in the passenger seat, she kept her gaze fixed ahead, but not on the road. She couldn’t see where they were headed, which made it difficult for Spencer to tell her something… at least important.

When they stopped, she furrowed her brow in surprise.

“Why are we here?”

They were parked under his apartment, and she had been under the impression they were heading to her place.

“Sorry, I should’ve told you earlier, I really apologize,” Spencer blurted out in one breath, chaotically. “I absolutely realize that this is like putting you in a situation you didn’t expect, but… but when you were in the hospital, Jude found herself a new roommate. She didn’t really know how to tell you, but she had to do it because she couldn’t afford the rent on her own.”

For a long moment, she stared at him in silence, her face a mixture of shock, followed by understanding. She took a deep breath.

“Okay,” she muttered. “I understand her, I just… I don’t understand why she didn’t tell me this herself.”

Their relationship still remained deeply complicated, put to the test by guilt. Spencer couldn’t say much about it. It was something between the two of them, and he hardly knew Jude at all.

“I’m also sorry for asking you this so late,” he continued after a moment. “But… you can’t live alone, you know that. Someone… someone needs to be with you over the next few weeks and… I’m willing to be that person.”

Her lips remained slightly parted for a moment.

“You want… no, wait, you want me to move in with you?” It was clearly a rhetorical question, because before he could answer, she started shaking her head. “Spencer, I can’t. I can’t be that burden for you.”

“A burden? You’re not…”

“But I will be. In the next few weeks, I definitely will be.”

He took his hands off the steering wheel, placing them loosely on his knees.

“Can you… can you look at me for a moment?” he asked.

It took a moment before she hesitantly met his gaze. Her eyes were filled with embarrassed tears, tears full of unjust shame. Seeing this, pain spread through his chest.

“If the accident hadn’t happened, would you want to live with me?”

Her lips remained pressed together, and she sighed.

“It’s a big decision. Aside from the fact that if it weren’t for the accident, I wouldn’t even have to consider this option…”

“I just want to know if you would want to. Don’t think of it as an option, just as… a completely normal, life decision. Do you think you’d be able to handle having me around every day?”

She couldn’t help it, and her lips curled into a slight smile.

“We could try,” she finally replied.

Spencer straightened his arms.

“In that case, let’s go inside.”

“No, wait, it’s not that simple! My opinion shouldn’t matter; it’s you who needs to think about whether you want this…”

“I do.”

She snorted, resigned, not knowing what else to say.

“I can’t even tie my own shoes,” she tried one last time.

“I’ll gladly do it for you. What’s more, I know all kinds of knots. Simple, sailor’s, Chinese…”

“Spencer Reid, you’re impossible.”

For the rest of the day, she tried every possible way to talk him out of his decision. But when she finally accepted it, she struggled to accept his help with tasks she couldn’t do on her own.

It wasn’t until later that he realized how much she had been pretending in the hospital. He had only seen her for a fraction of her day, and she seemed so positive then. But this temporary disability had really taken a toll on her mentally. He could repeat and assure her, completely sincerely, that she wasn’t a burden to him, but deep down, she still believed otherwise.

So, when two days later, she timidly appeared in the bedroom doorway with the question of whether he could help her wash her hair, Spencer felt like he had won the lottery.

“Sure,” he agreed, probably a bit too enthusiastically, jumping to his feet so quickly that he almost tripped.

She pretended not to notice.

In the bathroom, he slowly helped her pull the shirt over her head, careful not to catch it on the collar still around her neck or accidentally cause her any pain.

“Be careful not to tilt your head too much, okay?” he asked, wetting her hair with the showerhead. She closed her eyes when a few drops of water splashed onto them. “Sorry!”

“For god's sake, Spencer, you're doing it more carefully than I would have done myself.”

It was true; he was acting as if he were performing some task at work that required absolute precision. He shrugged, massaging the strawberry shampoo into her hair. Foam quickly appeared, smelling sweet.

Suddenly, her hands tightened around the front of his shirt.

“Sorry,” she whispered, loosening her grip. “I got a little dizzy.”

Spencer immediately pressed his hands, still covered in shampoo, to her waist, afraid she might fall. He stared at her face for a long moment, waiting for the dizziness to pass.

And just then, her body suddenly went limp, falling forward.

Terrified, he let out a strangled cry.

“Hold on, please, don’t fall!” he kept repeating, doing everything he could to keep her upright.

Her hands hung limply on his shoulders, the foam and water soaking into his shirt, but he didn’t care at all.

“I’m right here, hold on to me as much as you can. C-c-can you hear me at all?”

He wondered whether it would be better to stand her up or lay her down while he could get to the phone and call an ambulance, when suddenly her weak touch grew stronger, and she let out a soft groan.

“Sorry.”

“Don’t you dare apologizing. I’m still holding you, can you hear me?”

His heart was pounding incredibly fast as she gently pulled her head away from his chest. He, of course, didn’t let her stand on her own, constantly supporting her body, protecting her from a fall that could be disastrous.

Together, they left the shower cabin, her hair still covered in foam.

“Are you aware that this is how it’s going to look now?” she asked seriously.

Completely unfazed, he wiped the foam from her forehead, which was dangerously close to her eyes.

“I’d rather have you lose consciousness in my bathroom, right next to me, than risk… I don’t know, cracking your head open.”

For a moment, she was silent, the color beginning to return to her pale face, her gaze becoming more alert. He had a strange feeling that she was about to start crying, and since he really didn’t want that, he pulled her close again, in his usual protective gesture. Everything around them smelled of strawberries.

“Do you really have to be this good?”

Spencer snorted.

“I’m afraid it’s just my curse.”

“Are these people really arguing about whether a cucumber is a fruit or a vegetable?”

Sitting on the couch, you jumped when a voice spoke right behind you. At the last second, you caught your laptop before it slipped off your lap. You had been reading some absurd discussion on an online forum you stumbled upon completely by accident. And yes, these users were indeed arguing about whether a cucumber is a fruit or a vegetable.

“Damn it, Spencer!” you shouted, putting your hand over your heart, which was pounding in an agitated rhythm. You looked at your boyfriend with a scowl. “You almost gave me a heart attack. How is it possible I didn’t hear you come in?”

He shrugged. Leaning his elbows on the back of the couch, the rolled-up sleeves of his shirt revealed the skin of his forearms. In that position, he had a perfect view of the screen on your laptop. He had just returned from work, a rainy July evening, his hair slightly damp.

“I wasn’t sneaking around. You must’ve just been lost in thought. Want to tell me what’s occupying that beautiful mind of yours?” He leaned in to place a kiss on your temple.

“Beautiful mind, huh?” you repeated, raising an eyebrow. “Just a few days ago, you told me that if a 19th-century priest heard even one thought from my head, he’d go into anaphylactic shock. Whatever that was supposed to mean.”

"In a big simplification, what I meant is that even though I love you, sometimes your way of thinking scares me."

"I'll take that as a compliment."

"By the way, I bought land for Alexander."

Alexander was your new flycatcher, which had grown so much that it completely prevented the other flowers on the windowsill from growing. Due to its conqueror tendencies, you decided to name it after one of them.

"Do you want to repot it into a new pot now...?"

"No. Now you need to come to me."

You set the laptop aside and waited for him to take a seat on the couch. Before fully snuggling into him, you untied and removed the tie from his neck, then unbuttoned the first few buttons of his shirt, just the way you liked.

You sighed almost instantly; his body was more comfortable than a pillow. Warm, with your favorite scent. You rested your head on his chest as his fingers gently combed through your hair.

In the first few weeks after you were discharged from the hospital, you couldn’t even sleep in the same bed. There was a risk that, in his sleep, he might accidentally bump into your neck and cause damage. Spencer enforced that rule strictly, as he did with every precaution related to your health.

Six months had passed since the accident, and for the past four months, you hadn’t worn a neck brace or needed help with daily tasks. But that didn’t change the fact that, sometimes, when you showered together, he would wash your hair just like he used to. Anyway, you were still attending rehabilitation and would need to for a long time, but despite that, you felt like you had fully returned to normal life.

You lifted yourself slightly to look at his face.

"I was walking to the bar today," you began.

You’d been considering going back to work for a while now, and the doctors had assured you there was no reason you couldn’t. You wanted something to occupy your hands and craved the sense of purpose that came with a task. You’d mentioned it to Spencer long ago, so he didn’t seem surprised when you brought it up.

"And? Will they take you back?"

"No. I mean, it’s not that they don’t want to, I just didn’t get there. That’s why I said I was walking and not that I went to a bar. Are you following?"

"I'm trying."

"So, listen to this. I took the subway and got off at that station near the room I used to rent."

The landlord had asked for the keys back shortly after your accident. Your arrangement had been that, in exchange for using the space, you cleaned it daily. Of course, you hadn’t been able to keep up with that anymore.

"...And I don't know, I was overwhelmed by this strange feeling, like I wanted to go back to it. Helping people."

"You help people all the time," Spencer reminded you. "All our neighbors come to you to vent about everything happening in their lives."

"That's true, but I mean, you know, professional help," you said, taking a deeper breath. You couldn't decide whether you were more excited or nervous about the decision. "I've been thinking about going back to uni, Spencer."

He straightened up, almost causing you to slide off his chest. Filled with tension, you watched his reaction closely. You’d spent the entire day wondering what he might say. Would he share your enthusiasm and support your plans, or would he try to talk you out of it, reasoning that you’d dropped out of school once and might not manage it again?

These thoughts were incredibly silly. Spencer—knowledge-obsessed, ever-curious Spencer—would never say something like that.

Instead, he pulled you into a tight embrace, whispering how incredible the idea was. You melted into it completely, feeling more elated than ever and unable to stop thinking about the crazy chain of cause and effect that had led to this specific moment, this particular relationship, and above all, this exact happiness.

do you accept this overly sweet ending as my apology? :> tagging: @nightfullofparadox @lillaberry @fortheloveofgubler @opheliahotchner @cowboy1ikereid @penelopegarciaismygf

sorry if i forgot about someone!

#criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid #spencer reid criminal minds #spencer reid x oc #criminal mind #derek morgan #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fanfiction #dr spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #dr reid

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fantasylandloser · 10 months ago

Text

Not Flirting

Pairing; Rafe Cameron x Reader

Summary: You and Rafe want each other so bad.

Warnings: smut, mdni, Public sex, smoking, shotgunning, two uses of slut and one use of good girl, Rafe calling the reader kiddo in flirty way

******

You’re not flirting with Rafe Cameron. That’s what you’ve been telling yourself anyway. The casual touches, and the constant bickering that presents like foreplay is how the two of you have always been. Right?

The two of you don’t even talk outside of when you’re with your mutual friends. That’s probably why you seem so focused on each other. And the only reason the air around you is so charged with sexual tension is because- well he’s Rafe. He could have chemistry with a doorknob. It is not flirting.

You’ve told nearly every person that’s been in contact with you something similar to those words that you’ve been trying to convince yourself of. Nobody believes you, sadly you’re not even stupid enough to believe it. That doesn’t stop you from trying though.

It helps you feel less guilty about wanting his attention, and having it. He’s a known fuck boy on the island and you’ve been sort of friends since high school, but after graduating your friend group got smaller and it was hard to ignore him.

You tried to sometimes, but it never worked. The pull the two of you had on each other was too damn magnetic. Like at this party you were at. He’d found you accidentally, laughing with some people, your bikini practically melded with your skin after a dip in the water.

You don’t see him when he walks behind you, but the way the hairs stand up on the back of your neck, you know it’s him. So, you don’t panic when his arms wrap around your shoulders, or when he takes your cup and drinks out of it, even though he knows you hate that.

“Hey, kid.” You roll your eyes at the nickname he’d given you when he found out about the one year age gap between the two of you. You hate yourself a little for the smile you feel making its way onto your face.

“Don’t start.” Rafe doesn’t acknowledge that, or the people that were around you because he starts pulling you away from them. “Where are you taking me?” You wish you could sound like you actually cared but you’d go with him regardless.

“We’re smoking.” He whispers, his breath fanning the outside of his ear.

You twist your lips in apprehension and Rafe must have a sixth sense for you at this point because he eases your mind immediately.

“Don’t worry, kiddo. It’s more your speed than mine.” Again, you roll your eyes. You don’t stop him from walking you towards wherever he’s going though.

“I don’t even-”

“I know, I know. “ Rafe groans. You reach back to flick him for interrupting you and he finally lets go of you since you’re walking with him willingly. “Just trust me.” You miss his body heat the second that it’s gone but you’re going to blame it on being cold, even though it’s ninety degrees out.

You mock him childishly, to ignore the heat that crawls through your body when you look at him. You remember him saying something about cutting his hair off, and then you teasing him and saying it would look bad. You just thought his long hair added to his cuteness. You were very wrong.

“Oh you did it.” He lets you run your hand over his buzzed head, while you walk beside him.

“Mhm.” He smirks and you already know what’s coming. “Is it as bad as you thought it would be?” But he knows it isn’t because you are not subtle in checking him out and his ego is bigger than the sun.

“It’s somehow worse.”You taunt only to be met with a tug on your hair. It’s childish and violently in character for Rafe. He smiles at the squeak you let out and laughs when you push him back.

“Yeah, whatever you like it.” Your conversation is cut short when your presence is noticed by your other friends.

“Where have you been all night?” Kelce asks from the hammock he’s lying in.

“Up your butt.” You answer obnoxiously, skipping over to your friend Natalie’s lap and giving her a hug. You could tell she was a little high on something you didn’t want.

“I think that is the last place you’d wanna be.” Topper says, patting your head and you can tell he’s been drinking by the way he slurs.

The conversation between you and your friends is mindless while Rafe rolls the blunt on the patio table. You tried not to stare at his fingers as he did so. Or look at him too hard as he licked the paper. You failed.

You try not to think too much of it when he’s finally done and he beckons you over, or when he pulls you in his lap, like that's normal. Once again, you fail. It takes you all over two seconds to get comfortable once he wraps his arm around you though and you’re used to ignoring your friends' looks by now.

You’re a little nervous once he lights it but he brings it to his lips first and you really want your lips to be on that blunt all of a sudden. When he hands it to you, you try to mimic what he had done but you can tell you did it wrong immediately.

“Inhale, kid.” You try again, you kind of feel it this time.

“Lemme see.” He takes it from you and inhales the smoke, which you’re pretty sure is like illegal when it comes to rotation, but you don’t say so. You’re a little surprised when he grips your jaw firm and gentle, before blowing the smoke into your mouth.

“Inhale” You do so, trying your best to ignore the heat creeping up your neck.

“Good girl.” He says finally releasing your jaw. You choke on the smoke in your lungs as he passes off the joint. Rubbing his hand on your back, immediately reminding you how naked you are in just your bikini.

“I hate you.” You say once you’ve finally gathered yourself, but it holds no weight as you lean back into him.

*****

You’re horny. That’s all you can think about by the time your friends and you stop smoking. Everyone had dispersed by now and it was just you and Rafe with you still sitting sideways across his lap.

“I can feel you.” You squint eyeing your position.

“It would be concerning if you couldn’t.” You're well aware that your skin was touching his. He shakes his head, propping his hand right to the pulse in between your legs that was only covered by the thin layer of your bikini bottoms.

“You’re fucking throbbing.” Your words are caught in your throat at the sensation of him rubbing you. Intensified by your high and how long you’ve been wanting him.

“Someone is gonna see.” You finally get out, trying to shift your legs.

‘Good for them.” When he grabs your jaw this time, it’s to kiss you and you immediately forget whatever it was that you were worried about. He lets you shift around until you’re straddling him, kissing him back with equal fervor.

“So you do like my hair.” He says panting once, you finally give him room to breathe.

“What hair?” You softly scrape your nails down the nape of his neck. He sniggers, when you begin grinding against him. And he’s a little shocked when you pull his hard dick out his shorts.

“And what’re you gonna do with that?”

“Sit on it.” Rafe moans, he’s not sure if it’s at your words or the hickey you’re currently sucking into his neck. Possessive. He finds himself noting. “Unless you don’t want me to.” You add, and he almost laughs at the fact that you’re giving him an out.

“I do.” You’re so excited to fuck him you forget how much of a stretch he would be. But it’s too late to care once you start, you brutally force yourself to take half, ignoring your own pained whimpers at the sound of Rafe gasping into your neck.

Despite himself, Rafe grabs your ass so that you can’t go any further. “Eager little slut.”

“You started it.” You accuse after catching your breath. “You’re the slut.” Your voice is whiny, which is unlike you and Rafe can’t help but wonder if that’s a result of you being out of your mind horny or high.

“You’re the one that’s making a mess all over the both of us.” He says gesturing to the slick skin in between the both of you. While he’s talking you continue to take him deeper, nipping at the skin on his neck. He stops you again from taking more of him.

“Too much for you, kiddo.” You push past his hand in an act of rebellion, your ass meeting the top of his thighs. The stinging pain only makes you regret that action a little, but the look in his eye makes it worth it.

‘Fuck” He lets you continue to bounce on him for a minute, but once you start to finally find your rhythm he starts bucking his hips back into yours. He’s pleased when you can no longer hold back your moans.

“Rafe!” And he knows that warning anywhere, especially mixed in with the way you clench around him.

“Yeah? You like that?” Your answer to him is nearly gibberish as your body begins to convulse. And initially Rafe had every intention of pulling out, but the thought washes from his memory at the feeling of you. He groans as he finishes inside you, not utterly appalled by the idea of getting you pregnant.

Once you catch your breath, you laugh a little to yourself. “I guess I like your haircut.”

#rafe cameron #fantasylandloserfic #outer banks #rafe x reader #rafe cameron smut #rafe fanfiction #outerbanks rafe #rafe imagine #rafe cameron imagine #rafe outer banks

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won4kiss · 7 months ago

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⋆ ｡⋆୨୧˚— I’M IN LOVE WITH YOU !

𝜗𝜚 ༘⋆ ⋆˙pairing. enemy! park jongseong x fem! reader synopsis. you and jay had always despised each other- at least that’s what you thought until jay got a girlfriend, your true hidden feelings making its way to the surface- uh oh.. genre. angst ,, fluff ,, wc. 2500. 𝐥u𝐧a notes ⋆.˚ this is so labyrinth coded 🫧 — 𝓵𝗂𝖻𝗋𝖺𝗋𝔂

if you enjoyed reading, please like & reblog !! <3

YOU HAD KNOWN PARK JONGSEONG FOR AS LONG AS YOU COULD REMEMBER, AND YOU HATED HIM FOR NEARLY JUST AS LONG.

from the very first moment you laid eyes on him in kindergarten, he had been nothing but a thorn in your side. it all started when you had asked the young boy to be friends- instead of a yes, you got water spat on your face as he cackled at you- yes, cackled.

you despised him. his teasing, his smirks, his constant attempts to one-up you in every single aspect of life—it all grated on your nerves, day after day.

the relationship between you and jay was well-known. your friends and family had long since accepted it as a fact of life. you couldn't bare to stand him, and he couldn't stand you. it’s as simple as that.

until it wasn't.

the first crack in your carefully constructed wall of hatred came when jay got a girlfriend. her name was minji, and she was everything you were not—soft-spoken, gentle, and sweet. she was always by his side, laughing at his jokes, holding his hand. it shouldn't have mattered to you at all. in fact, you should have been relieved. if he was busy with his girlfriend, maybe he would leave you alone for once in your years of living.

but it didn't feel like relief. it felt like something else entirely, something you knew was wrong, something sharp and painful that you couldn't quite place. you found yourself watching them more than you would care to admit, your eyes drawn to the way he looked at her, his eyes sparkling, the way he touched her. and with each passing day, the ache in your chest grew stronger, more insistent. more unbearable.

you really did try to ignore it, to push it away deep inside of you and pretend it didn't exist, but it was no use. the feelings you had harboured for so long, hidden beneath layers of anger, resentment, and pride were bubbling up to the surface. you were falling for him, and you were falling deep. it was the most terrifying thing you had ever experienced as a teenage girl.

so, you did the only reasonable thing you could think of, you avoided him. you stopped going to places where you knew he would be, you stopped engaging in the petty arguments that had once been a staple of your interactions and everyday life. you had distanced yourself as much as you possibly could, hoping that the feelings would fade away with time.

but jay noticed. of course he did. and he didn't like it one bit.

one evening after school, after yet another successful day of avoiding jay, you found yourself cornered in the hallway of your apartment building, which he knew the address of from a day where you were sick, and delivered you your missed homework and soup, which he claimed he was forced to deliver to you.

he had been waiting for you, his expression a mixture of confusion, a bit of sadness? and anger.

"what's your problem, y/n?" he demanded, his voice low and tense. "why have you been avoiding me, huh?"

you crossed your arms, shaking off the butterflies from talking to him for the first time in weeks, trying to keep your composure. "i haven't been avoiding you," you lied, your voice shaken and unsteady

"bullshit," he snapped. "you've been avoiding me for weeks. did i do something to piss you off more than usual? because if i did, ill fix it.”

you swallowed hard, your heart pounding in your chest. "it's nothing, don’t worry. just leave me alone, jay."

"no," he said, stepping closer. "i won't leave you alone until you tell me what's going on, y/n." he whispered.

his proximity made it hard to breathe, let alone think. the scent of his cologne, the intensity of his gaze—it was all way too much for you to bare. you could feel the walls you had so carefully built around your heart beginning to crumble.

"why do you care?" you shot back, your voice trembling anxiously. "you have minji now. go bother her for all i care!”

jay's eyes narrowed, his expression darkening with a frown. "this isn't about minji. this is about you and me. why are you avoiding me?"

"because i can't stand you! being around you!" you shouted angrily, the words bursting from you before you could stop them.

"why?" he demanded, his voice rising. "what did i do that's so bad you can't even be in the same room as me?"

you took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. but the emotions that have been building inside you the past few weeks were too strong, too overwhelming. you couldn't keep them bottled up any longer.

"because i’m in love with you, okay?" you yelled, tears streaming down your face. "i love you, and it hurts to see you with somebody that’s not me..”

for a moment, there was silence. jay stared at you, his eyes wide with shock. the world seemed to stand still, the only sound the pounding of your heart in your ears, as you cursed under your breathe shutting your eyes anxiously in panic.

"you… love me?" he said finally, his voice barely above a whisper.

you nodded, unable to speak. the confession had left you feeling raw and vulnerable, and you didn't know what to do next.

jay's expression hardened, and without another word, he turned and walked away, leaving you standing there, your heart shattered into a million pieces as you fell onto your knees and sobbed, you sobbed for your broken heart and for the loss of the relationship you had with jay- gone forever.

the next two weeks were a blur of constant pain and complete and utter embarrassment. jay ignored you completely, avoiding you at every turn. you threw yourself into your studies, trying to distract yourself from the aching heartbreak and void inside you. your friends noticed the change, but you couldn't bring yourself to explain. how could you tell them that the person you had hated for so long had become the one you loved? and even worse, broke your heart.

you saw jay and minji together more often than you would have liked. each time, it felt like a knife twisting in your heart. but you forced yourself to smile, to act like everything was fine. it was the only way you knew how to cope.

one day, while you were sitting in the campus courtyard, lost in your thoughts, someone sat down next to you. you looked up to see taehyun, one of your friends from class. his presence was a welcome distraction from the feelings inside you.

"hey," he said, patting your shoulder giving you a warm smile. "you look like you could use some company."

you smiled back, grateful for his kindness. "yeah, i guess i could."

taehyun was easy to talk to, he was kind and understanding, and before long, you found yourself laughing and joking with him. it was a relief to feel something other than pain for the first time in the last few weeks, even if it was only for a little while. he pulled you into a hug, after you had finally opened up about your situation and you let yourself relax in his embrace, closing your eyes and taking a deep breath, sniffling away your tears.

unbeknownst to you, jay was watching from a distance. he had come to the courtyard to clear his head from everything, from the confusion and the dull feeling in his heart, but the sight of you with taehyun stopped him in his tracks. the way you laughed, the way you hugged him—it should have made him happy to see you smiling again after breaking your heart. but instead, it filled him with a burning jealousy and sadness.

seeing you with taehyun brought everything into sharp focus. and it suddenly hit him- he realized that he had been a fool, pushing you away when he should have been holding you close. he couldn't deny it anymore longer—he was deeply in love with you. and he couldn't stand the thought of losing you to somebody else.

jay knew what he had to do- that evening, jay broke up with minji. it was one of the hardest things he had ever done, she was a kind and sweet girl, but he knew it was the right thing. minji deserved someone who could love her- and that wasn’t him. his heart had always belonged to you.

the next day, jay found you sitting alone in the library, studying and deep in focus. he approached anxiously and cautiously, his heart feeling like it was about to explode in his chest.

"can we talk please?" he asked, his voice quiet.

you looked up, surprise and shock flickering in your eyes before looking down again. "kinda busy- what do you want, jay?"

he took a deep breath, steeling himself. "i'm sorry. for everything, y/n. i never should have ignored you. i was in denial, i was scared and confused, but that's no excuse."

you stayed silent anxiously playing with your fingers, waiting for him to continue.

"i broke up with minji," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "because i realized something that took a while for me to realize but i’m here now- i realized that i'm in love with you."

your breath caught in your throat, your heart pounding in your chest. "you… you what?”

"i'm in love with you, y/n. i’m so in love with you" he repeated, his voice breaking as his eyes shined with sincerity. "i've been in love with you for a long time, but i was too stupid to see it. and when you told me how you felt, it scared the hell out of me. i didn't know how to handle it, so i pushed you away. but i can't do that anymore."

tears welled up in your eyes as you looked at him, your heart aching with a mixture of hope and fear. "do you really mean it?" you whispered.

jay nodded, his gaze unwavering. "i mean it. i love you. and if you'll give me a chance, i promise i'll do everything i can to make it up to you, please y/n.”

you searched his eyes, looking for any sign of deception. but all you saw was honesty, a raw vulnerability that took your breath away.

"i don't know if i can trust you," you said quietly, your voice trembling. "you hurt me, jay. a lot."

"i know," he said, his voice breaking as he cups your cheek, leaning his forehead against yours. "and i'm so, so sorry. but i'll spend the rest of my life proving to you that you can trust me. i promise."

for a long moment, you stayed silent, the weight of his words sinking in. and then, slowly, you nodded. "okay," you said, your voice barely above a whisper. "one chance, jay. but if you hurt me again, that's it. i'm done."

jay's face lit up with a mixture of relief and joy. he reached out, taking your hand in his, looking into your eyes for permission as you nodded with a soft grin.

jays lips feel soft against yours, you spent many nights wondering what it would be like to be like to kiss jay, and it’s even better than you could’ve imagined.

and for the first time, you allowed yourself to believe that maybe, just maybe, things could be different.

the weeks that followed were a whirlwind of emotions. jay was true to his word, doing everything in his power to prove himself to you. he showed up at your door with your favourite coffee order every morning, walked you to your classes with your hand in his, and spent every spare moment with you. he was attentive, kind, thoughtful, and for the first time, truly present.

your friends noticed the change in him too. they saw the way he looked at you, hearts in his eyes and the way he treated you with a newfound gentleness and adoration. it was clear to everyone that park jay was a changed man, and it was all because of you.

but there were still moments of where you were in denial, times when the past hurt you felt would come back, casting a shadow over your happiness. the moment came to you on a rainy afternoon, the weather complimenting your mood as you sat together in a quiet café. the rain pattered against the windows, creating a soothing backdrop to your conversation.

jay gave you a knowing look as he reached across the table, taking your hand in his.

"i love you," he said, his voice filled with emotion. "i know i've said it before, but i need you to know how much you mean to me. you're my everything, so get those thoughts out of your head, mmh?”

he said pulling you into a soft kiss across the table.

tears welled up in your eyes at his words. it was everything you had ever wanted to hear, but the fear still lingered, a dark cloud over your heart.

"i love you too," you whispered, your voice trembling. "but i'm scared, jay. i'm scared of getting hurt again- it was so bad.” you said as you closed your eyes with a trembling voice.

jay's grip on your hand tightened, his eyes shining with determination and love. "i know," he said. "and i will spend the rest of my life proving to you that you have nothing to fear. i will never hurt you again, i promise baby.”

time passed, and true to his word, jay continued to be the man you deserved. he was patient, understanding, and never once pressured you. he was there for you in ways he had never been before, and slowly but surely, the trust and reassurance began to appear.

one warm night, as you sat together on the same playground jay had rejected you on as kids, he pulled you into his arms, his lips brushing against your forehead.

"i can’t bare losing you," he whispered, his voice filled with emotion. "you're my everything."

you looked up at him, your heart overflowing with love. "you won't," you said, your voice steady and sure. "we're in this together, you can’t get rid of me that easily."

you both threw your heads back, laughing together as the moonlight shined down on you.

and as he held you close, you knew that no matter what pain he had caused you before- you knew that your love for each other was stronger than anything else.

@won4kiss 2024

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vettelsvee · 8 months ago

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I DON'T APOLOGIZE FOR WINNING | Sebastian Vettel

f1 masterlist | wattpad | ao3 | instagram

rbr sebastian vettel x schumacher!reader | part 2 here

summary: y/n thinks she's sick from f1 traveling stress, but what if that's not the reason of her sickness?

word count: 992

warnings: hints of having sex. mentions of wishing to die (because reader is sick af). use of y/n

you can send your one shots requests here! feedback, as well as comments and reblogs, are truly appreciated!

It was barely five in the morning, and the sun was beginning to rise on the horizon of the city of Berlin. Sebastian and you, without having been able to rest after the German Grand Prix that had taken place just hours ago, were at the airport of the German capital, ready to head to Hungary, where the next Formula 1 competition would be held.

You were aware that following the lifestyle of a high-level racing driver was not easy. However, you didn't think that getting eight hours of sleep or having free time would become privileges that you would have, in part, during the holiday period. Despite the excitement that filled you every time you embarked on a new destination, you had been feeling unwell for several days, and no matter how hard you tried to remedy it, all you did was worsen it.

Seb, who knew you well enough to know that something was wrong, tried not to make a big deal out of it. He knew that you tended to get sick frequently, although the fact that you was quieter than usual and didn't have as much energy as usual started to worry the blonde who, at the moment of takeoff, observed carefully as your face grew paler, while you gripped the armrest of the seat tightly.

"Y/N, are you okay?" Sebastian asked with concern.

You tried to breathe deeply to calm the wave of nausea you were feeling right now.

"Yes," you simply replied, faking a smile. "I just feel a little uncomfortable with takeoff, you know airplanes and I are not friends. Stop worrying, love. You'll see it'll pass soon."

Despite your multiple reassurances, Seb couldn't convince himself. Your eyes reflected how you felt, and he had no doubt that you were hiding something from him to avoid worrying him.To try to relax you, he leaned towards you to leave a kiss on your cheek.

"Sweetheart, I know you've told me you're okay, but if you start feeling worse, let me know, okay?"

You nodded, silently thanking the German for his concern.

Although he tried not to make a big deal out of it, the truth was that as the flight progressed towards its destination, you felt worse, even reaching the point where nausea turned into frequent trips to the bathroom to vomit, and constant dizziness into a desire to faint and not wake up for a few days.

"Seb, I swear… I can't deal with this anymore."

After suddenly getting up from your seat, hurrying to the bathroom trying not to cause too much commotion among the other passengers, you quickly locked yourself in the small cubicle, bending over the toilet to empty everything you didn't know you had inside yourself. Sebastian watched with concern as you fled, trying not to lose his composure under the curious gaze of those present, including a few Red Bull engineers.

“Y/N!”, Seb called out as quietly as he could, anxious because you weren’t responding. “Are you okay? Please, open the door.”

You didn't answer him, which only heightened Vettel's anxiety. He fixed his gaze on the bathroom door, waiting for you to come out and give him some explanation of what was happening.

After what felt like an eternity, you emerged from the bathroom with a completely pale face and a tired look. Sebastian simply pulled her close to his chest and held her tightly in an embrace.

"Love, what's wrong?" he said anxiously. "I need to know what's going on. Things can't continue like this if you're going to keep accompanying me. I'm sure it's getting to you: everything is overwhelming you and..."

Suddenly, you began to cry from the helplessness you were feeling, causing Sebastian to hold you even tighter, stroking your back to help you relax as much as possible.

"I can't take it anymore, Seb. I feel awful. I want to die right now."

"We should seek help," he said, wiping your tears away. "We'll see what we can do now to keep you as relaxed as possible for the remainder of the flight, okay? And when we land, we'll go to an emergency room to see what's wrong with you."

Sebastian then called one of the flight attendants in their area and explained the distressing situation, emphasizing that he wouldn't want anyone to find out to avoid conflicts with both the media and his team. The flight attendant simply nodded and informed them to return to their seats, immediately assisting the world champion's partner.

"Mrs. Vettel, here's some water and an aspirin," the woman kindly offered you. "Additionally, I've informed the crew about your wife's situation," she said, now looking at the blonde, "and they confirmed that if she gets worse, there's no problem in making an emergency landing at the nearest airport."

"I'm not Sebastian's wife..."

"Thank you very much," the driver interrupted, thanking the flight attendant for her assistance.

The German began to laugh at your reaction as soon as the woman left.

"You should have seen your face, Y/N. You can't deny that you didn't mind being referred to as my wife," Seb said, stroking your hair and opening the water bottle for you to take a sip.

The flight continued, and although the nausea had been brought under control, the discomfort persisted. The couple was aware that there was only, thankfully, about half an hour of travel left.

"Darling," Sebastian whispered sweetly. "Close your eyes and focus on your breathing: inhale through your nose, and exhale through your mouth. I'm here, hold my hand."

You followed your partner's instructions, allowing yourself to be guided by his voice, which was truly comforting in those moments, in each inhalation and exhalation. Gradually, you began to feel calmer, and you would even swear that you hadn't felt this way in several days.

Finally, the plane reached its destination. You felt greatly relieved that the flight, which had caused you so much distress, had come to an end as it had left her physically and mentally exhausted.

As soon as your feet touched Hungarian soil, Sebastian made sure that you felt as comfortable as possible before heading to the hotel. Despite the rush Britta, Sebastian's PR, took a moment in some small seats to rest and, as much as possible, recover from the turbulent journey they had just endured.

Although he knew he might hurt your feelings, Sebastian decided to broach the subject with a mischievous smile:

"Love, don't you think we've had enough intense Sunday nights celebrating my victories? Because I think it's led to something good."

At first, you were a bit confused, but a few seconds later you let out a shy and sweet laugh. The driver wasn't lying: sex had become your ritual to bid farewell to the weekend and, above all, as a celebration of Seb's victories that season. Now that you remembered, there were quite a few occasions where you didn’t use protection, so you thought that the possibility was even more up in the air now.

"It could be, Seb," you said with a knowing smile. "If I am, we could have a pretty big problem..."

"Please, love, don't say that," Vettel drew closer to you, taking your hand and gently tracing small circles on it with his fingers. "If you're pregnant, I'm sure you'll be an amazing mother. Besides, I know we haven't talked about this, but I've always wanted to be a father and I can't imagine anyone better than you to fulfill this dream."

Tears began to form in your eyes, and you hurried to wipe them away to prevent your boyfriend from noticing.

"So, what do you say? Should we tell Britta that we need to go to the pharmacy and buy a test? That way we can find out, and if it's a no, we can keep trying," you clarified eagerly. "What do you think about tonight?"

Feeling excited, after you explained the situation to the woman who had become another member of the family, and who, obviously, had been thrilled at the possible news, headed to the nearest pharmacy to avoid arousing suspicions among the journalists and paparazzi, who were lurking around with the intention of getting the latest scoop on the man of the moment.

Alone together and holding the small bag containing the test, you began to feel nervous as they approached their room. Upon entering the suite, you both sat on the edge of the bed, taking a moment to calm themselves before checking whether you would become parents.

"Okay," you said, taking a deep breath, "I'm ready."

After that, you opened the box containing the test and went to the bathroom, where you followed the instructions carefully. Once finished, you placed it on the surface of the sink and returned to where Seb was, waiting for the indicated time to pass to see the result.

You approached your boyfriend, who gently stroked your back once again to comfort you. He knew you were nervous and scared. He felt the same way.

"Whatever the result is, I'm grateful to have a woman like you in my life. I'll be by your side no matter what, ok?" Sebastian reassured you.

Tears filled the your eyes again, and as you looked at your watch and saw that the waiting time was over, you ran as fast as you could to the bathroom, followed by an anxious Sebastian.

Quickly, you took the test in your hands and saw the result:

"It's positive!" you shouted, your voice trembling. "I'm pregnant, Sebastian!"

A wave of emotions engulfed you both, not knowing what to do except to embrace tightly as you felt a mixture of astonishment and joy, as well as uncertainties about what could happen from that moment on.

"Well, it turns out that in the end I'm not just good at pointing with my index finger when I win," Sebastian teased you mischievously.

"I find it surreal that you're making dirty jokes after finding out we're going to have a child."

"I guess," the driver continued playfully, "we'll have to tell this little one that his dad is a two-time, for now, Formula 1 world champion, and that his mother is a champion in other aspects."

You laughed at your boyfriend's quips, finding them unbelievable.

"Come on, Seb, don't act modest now saying you didn't have merit. You know perfectly well that I motivated you quite a bit during those baby-making sessions."

"Of course, I'm not saying otherwise," the German continued jokingly. "I'm sure the baby will become the royalty of Formula 1. Who wouldn't want to have Vettel and Schumacher genes?"

Both of you burst into laughter, filling the room, giving way your thoughts on how you would tell your families, the media, your respective coworkers... Especially, you spent a few minutes sharing your expectations about what your life would be like from that day on.

"Miss Schumacher and future Mrs. Vettel, let me tell you that now that we know we're expecting a little miracle, I propose we celebrate it in a more... intimate way."

"You can't even give me a day's break, can you? I don't know about you, but I'm convinced my father wouldn't find it amusing to hear his daughter screaming to ask her boyfriend for more," you said, knowing your father would be in the adjacent rooms.

"I know," Seb simply said, "but I’ve won in life, and I don't apologize for winning."

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moonpascal · 4 months ago

Text

IN THE SHADOW OF MEMORY

CHAPTER TWO series masterlist

SUMMARY II WC: 2.1k

After the tense encounter with Theo, you’re unsettled and distracted.

WARNINGS

angst, migraines, anxiety, feelings of emptiness

AUTHORS NOTE

this is more of a filler chapter. this took many rewrites and i’m hoping this is good enough! (although this plays into deathly hollows it will not follow it. mostly used it for the room of requirement scene). thank you for all the love on the first chapter!

Thank you thank you @amiableness for reading this and listening to me stress over it all! i love you! 🤎

You sat at the Gryffindor table, staring blankly at your plate. The usual warmth of the Great Hall—its lively morning chatter and clinking dishes—felt distant, like a scene observed through a glass wall. Harry and Hermione were talking softly beside you, but their words barely registered. Your mind kept circling back to the hallway, replaying the way Theo had looked at you.

The cruel words you’d hurled at him still echoed in your mind. Theo’s eyes, filled with anger and hurt, kept flashing in your memory. You couldn’t shake the image, nor could you understand why it affected you so deeply. It was just Theodore Nott-a Slytherin you barely knew. So why did the thought of him in pain twist your insides with guilt?

“Harry, why was Nott so mad at you?” Your voice cut through their conversation, drawing startled looks from both Harry and Hermione. They exchanged a brief, tense glance.

Before Harry could respond, Ron interjected. “Doesn’t take much to set that lot off. Probably thought he looked at him funny.”

While Ron’s words had a grain of truth, they didn’t fully explain Theo’s reaction. Although Theo wasn’t innocent, you’d noticed he rarely got into fights unless provoked—though no one deserved to be hit regardless of their reasoning. Yet, with Harry involved, and given the Slytherins’ usual treatment of him, it was hard to dismiss Ron’s comment. Theo often stayed in the background, smirking as others were bullied, but he rarely got his hands dirty.

The way Theo treated the other years was something you despised, and you always stood up for the victims of Slytherin cruelty. The frustration bubbling inside you mixed with an unsettling feeling you couldn’t quite place. So you simply hummed in agreement.

Your head throbbed, a constant reminder of the earlier events of the past 24 hours. As you pushed your food around your plate, you kept glancing at the doors to the Great Hall, expecting someone or something to happen. Hermione must have noticed because she nudged you, pulling you back into the conversation.

But you didn’t catch Harry and Hermione’s silent exchange, too lost in your own thoughts. Everything felt off today, your emotions were raw, on edge. Whenever you tried to pinpoint the source of your unease, it slipped away, leaving you more confused.

It didn’t make sense. Nothing had happened to make you feel this way—at least, nothing you could recall. You’d woken up in the hospital wing with a headache and a vague sense of confusion, Theo strangely sitting nearby. But Madam Pomfrey had assured you it was nothing serious—a bump on the head, perhaps a little too much stress. As she gave you a sleeping draught to take later.

So why did it feel like something was missing? Like a piece of your heart had been taken, leaving behind a hollow space?

Harry was speaking again, his voice soft with concern, but you barely heard him. You nodded automatically, forcing a smile that didn’t reach your eyes. You just needed some fresh air, some time to clear your head. Maybe then the tightness in your chest would ease, and the world would stop closing in on you.

You excused yourself from the table, ignoring the worried glances from your friends as you slipped out of the Great Hall. The cool air in the corridor was a relief, and you took a deep breath, trying to calm your racing heart.

But even as you walked aimlessly through the castle, the unease persisted. It was like an itch you couldn’t scratch, a sense of dread that clung to you.

You leaned your forehead against the cool glass of a window, closing your eyes. You just needed to rest, to give your mind a break. Maybe you’d take that draught soon.

As you walked into class, a wave of whispers followed you, accompanied by fleeting glances. Normally, you were used to blending in—not exactly shy, but not someone who sought the spotlight either. Today, though, it felt like everyone had something to say about you, twisting your stomach with discomfort.

You kept your head down, heading for a seat in the back, hoping to escape the attention. You set your bag on the table, pulling out your parchment and quill with slightly trembling hands. The pounding in your head was getting worse, each throb making you consider skipping the rest of your classes.

You rubbed your temples, trying to soothe the ache, so focused on your discomfort that you didn’t notice Theo slipping into the seat beside you.

When you finally looked up, your body tensed. Theo’s jaw was tight, his expression hard. You knew why—your argument had been harsh, and the guilt that had been gnawing at you all morning flared up again.

You were surprised he sat beside you, thinking he wouldn’t want anything to do with you now, especially after this morning’s exchange. Let alone being this close to anyone outside of Slytherin. But you knew you had to apologize for saying those awful words in the heat of the moment. Just as you lifted your arm to nudge him, Lavender turned in her seat, her eyes landing on you with concern.

“Hey Trouble, how are you feeling?” she asked softly, nervously glancing at Theo. “I heard you were in an accident. I was worried, but was told no visitors.”

You blinked, confusion flickering in your mind before you forced a response. “I’m… okay, I think. It must’ve been a pretty bad fall since I’ve had this migraine all day,” you tried to joke, but the weak attempt didn’t erase the worry in her eyes.

Before Lavender could say more, Theo cleared his throat, shooting her a look that made her quickly turn back to the front just as the professor began the lesson.

You struggled to focus on the lecture, as the pounding in your head intensified. You sighed in frustration, squeezing your eyes shut to block out the lights and noise. The migraine was worse than any you’d had before, leaving you anxious, wondering if there was more to your accident than you remembered.

Just as you were about to spiral into worry, you felt a subtle pressure at your side. Theo had leaned closer, his arm brushing against yours as he reached for some ink.

Normally, you would’ve tensed at the invasion of your personal space, but instead, the warmth of his presence was oddly grounding. The anxiety and pain that had been building all day eased just a fraction, allowing you to take a breath that didn’t feel so tight in your chest.

Whether intentional or not, Theo stayed close, his side pressed against yours, a silent connection that gave you a fleeting sense of calm.

As the lesson dragged on, the professor’s words blurred together, becoming an indistinct hum in the background of your thoughts. Despite Theo’s comforting presence, the tension in your body refused to fully release. You could feel his gaze on you from time to time, a mix of concern and something you couldn’t quite identify.

When the class finally ended, students began gathering their things, eager to leave. You remained seated, reluctant to move, still grappling with the persistent ache in your head and the knot of emotions in your chest. Theo didn’t make a move to leave either. Instead, he waited, his presence steady beside you.

Finally, he broke the silence, his voice low and concerned. “Are you okay?”

You hesitated, wondering why you felt so vulnerable around Theodore of all people. “I don’t know,” you replied quietly, your voice tinged with exhaustion. “I feel like something is wrong, but I can’t quite pinpoint it.”

Theo’s eyes softened, and he slowly turned to face you fully in his chair. His hand hesitantly moved to rest on top of yours, his touch soft and anchoring. It made you feel worse, knowing you’d said such harsh things to him, and yet here he was, comforting you—someone you never expected to show this kind of care, let alone toward you.

You took a deep breath, gathering the courage to say what had been weighing on you all day. “Theodore, I’m sorry,” you began, your voice soft but sincere. “I’m sorry for what I said earlier. I was scared and angry, but that doesn’t make it right. It wasn’t fair, and you didn’t deserve it.”

You could see him visibly deflate, as if your apology wasn’t what he was hoping for. But he quickly masked his emotions, sitting straighter with a blank expression.

“It’s fine,” he said your name, like it pained him to say it. “I shouldn’t have reacted like that.”

His dejected tone caused an ache in your chest. You’d never had a one-on-one conversation with Nott until today, and it felt off.

You wanted to say something to comfort him in return, but a sharp pain in your right temple made you recoil, and Theo quickly caught you before you could fall from your chair. His touch sent another wave of warmth through you.

“Woah easier there, what’s happening?” Theo’s words cut through as you blinked, trying to focus.

“I’m fine. I think I just need some rest. I’ll see you around, Theodore. Thank you,” you murmured, gathering your things and half haphazardly shoving them into your bag. You walked out of the class, feeling his gaze on you the entire time.

The further you got to your dorm, the more uneasy you felt, your mind racing trying to grasp at something.

When you finally reached your room, you immediately collapsed onto your bed, your bag dropping with a thud as a vial rolled out.

You’d completely forgotten Madam Pomfrey had given you a sleeping draught and took it without hesitation and settled into bed, too tired to notice the faint vanilla and cigarette scent lingering.

The sleeping draught did its job, but only for a few hours. You woke up feeling empty, at least your headache had subsided. The dreams that had visited you were oddly vivid—filled with a gentle comfort and a loving presence—but no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t place where they came from.

In your dream, a faceless figure held you close, murmuring sweet nothings into your ear, placing delicate kisses on your shoulder. The love you felt in the dream was almost overwhelming, as if it was something you’d known for years. But every time you tried to focus on the details, a sharp jolt in the back of your head pulled you away, leaving you more confused.

You tried to fall back asleep after noticing it was well past midnight, meaning you’d missed the rest of your classes and dinner. Feeling restless, and knowing your dormmates slept like the dead—or with silencing charms—you decided to tidy up your side of the room. It was messier than you remembered.

As you gathered your clothes into a neat pile, you spotted some jumpers and hoodies you didn’t recognize. Frowning, you folded them and placed them next to your trunk, deciding to ask about them later. Then you noticed a green tie peeking out from under your bed. You sighed, assuming it was one of Grace’s latest conquests leaving their things behind, and tossed it onto her side of the room.

Once everything was in order, you turned your attention to the blank picture frames scattered across your desk. Which was odd not recalling when you bought so many. You’d just have to take some photos to fill those soon.

As you undressed for a shower, your fingers brushed against a cool metal object resting against your chest. You hadn’t noticed it before, and a sense of unease settled over you. Gently lifting it into view, you realized it was a locket—intricately detailed, with your favorite flowers etched in gold on the surface and your initials engraved on the back.

You tried to open it, but it wouldn’t budge. Maybe it was just designed that way, you thought, but the fact that you couldn’t recall ever owning it puzzled you. Curiosity piqued, you took it off, intending to examine it later. But as soon as the chain slipped from your neck, a sudden wave of emptiness washed over you, leaving you breathless.

Without thinking, you clasped it back on, and the feeling slowly faded. You decided to leave it there, too tired to worry about it out now. You’d ask your friends about it in the morning.

After a long, hot shower, you finally climbed into bed, wishing for more dreams of the faceless figure who had brought you such a profound sense of comfort and safety.

If you enjoyed, please reblog or comment! Your words keep me motivated to write.

dividers from @saradika-graphics

#theodore nott #theodore nott x reader #theo nott #theo nott x reader #theodore nott fanfic #theo nott fanfic #slytherin boys #theodore nott angst #theo nott angst #theo nott x you #theodore nott x you #theodore nott imagine #theo nott imagine #theodore nott series #theo nott series #moons writing ☾

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madhatterbri · 7 months ago

Text

You | D.P.

Summary: hello ^^ is it okay if i request Damian Priest x Fem!Reader where she feels secretly jealous of the constant attention Damian gets from women ever since he became World Heavyweight Champion and they just keep flirting with him. So the reader kind of like distancing herself, and it makes Damian wonder why. When another new week of Monday Night Raw came and Damian finally caught the reader before the show starts and brought her to the locker room backstage. Reader explains the reason why and then Damian just goes on to prove how much he loves only her and then they make love in the locker room :3 i'd like it to be a fluffy smut, please if its ok hehe. Smut. 18+.

Other Damian Priest fics can be found here.

Requested by anon

Taglist: @plentyoffandoms @brideofinfamy @mrsarcherofinfamy @theworldofotps

Y/N wasn't a jealous girlfriend. At least she didn't think so until he won his championship. She was so excited for him. All his hard work finally paid off. Damian was finally getting the recognition he deserved. Nothing could rain on their parade until it the other women decided they wanted to entertain him.

He was friendly to them. It was part of his job to not be a jerk to the fans. Yet they started bothering them even when it wasn't when they were at the arenas. Even date nights, the fans would talk to him. He kept the conversations brief at first. Then he started having full conversations with them. She would just keep walking to not just stand around. As time wore on, Y/N felt ignored.

Y/N started to build a wall between them. She would talk to Damian, but her mind was elsewhere. The sting of being inadvertently hurt by him sucked. He brought it up a couple of times, but she blew it off. It wasn't until he hadn't seen her at all before an episode of Monday Night RAW that he had to talk to her.

"There you are," Damian smiled upon seeing her. The show had a few hours before they aired.

"Here I am," she chuckled. Damian grabbed his fingers and linked them together.

"Let's have a chat. I feel like I haven't seen you all day," he urged. Before she could turn him down for a talk, he led her inside a locker room. It was away from everyone else to give them privacy. He locked the door behind him. "Talk to me. You have been distancing yourself and suddenly I have to look for you,"

"I'm just feeling a little jealous, I guess," Y/N sighed and sat on the bench. Damian took a step back. He didn't know where this was coming from.

"Why, mi amor? What happened?" He asked and took a seat next to her. He rubbed her back softly. She rolled her head around and took a deep breath.

"All the women that throw themselves at you now. They are so pretty, and I just miss when it was the two of us, D. Now I feel like I have to compete for your attention," she sighed and nibbled her bottom lip nervously.

He chuckled softly and shook his head. "There is no other woman, Y/N. You were here from the beginning to the end. Trust me when I lose that title they will be gone. But you know who is still going to be here? Y/N,"

Tears welled in her eyes. She cleared her throat and blinked them away. All the doubts and questions seemed so silly now. Damian loved her and only her. She leaned in and kissed him.

"I want to be here, Damian, always," she promised. He pulled her closer to him. Their sweet kisses turned into something more. She straddled his lap. Their make-out session started to heat up. Damian shifted, so she lay on the bench.

He complimented her as he placed kisses against her face and neck. She sighed happily once she felt him reaching for her underwear underneath her skirt. He threw her underwear behind him and teased her clit. Y/N gasped and moaned in his mouth.

"Don't worry, I got you," he assured her. He ran his fingers between her folds before sliding them inside her entrance. "The only woman that can make me feel like this. I want to spend my life with you,"

Y/N moaned in agreement. She didn't remember life before him. When they met, they instantly connected. Nights on the road were spent together. Times when they were away were filled with phone calls and text messages.

He curled his fingers inside of her. She gasped and balled her fists to keep quiet. The roster would have a field day in knowing they got caught having sex. He smirked and slid his fingers out of her. The archer of infamy slid his pants and underwear down. He positioned himself at her entrance.

"Now you shy?" He teased and slid inside of her. She bit her lip and whined. Damian grabbed her legs and wrapped them around his waist. He was gentle, wanting to prove to this woman that she was his everything.

More compliments were lavished on her. All her doubts were now gone. He picked up his pace once they were getting closer.

"Come on, sweetheart. I'm here. I got you," he promised. With one more thrust, their bodies were joined in utter bliss. He waited until he was ready to pull out.

"That was perfect," she blushed.

"You are perfect,"

#wwe fanfiction #wwe fanfic #damian priest fanfiction #damian priest fanfic #damian priest x reader #damian priest x y/n

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unreleasedwrites · 22 days ago

Note

heyy im the anon in the prev ask! i want to request a fluff smut with Jake, like a quickie in the morning (with spooning position) to deal with his morning wood problem hehe 😉 thank you in advance 🩷

First Thing In The Morning

content: Spooning with your boyfriend on an empty weekend has its perks. One of which is how you get to be there when he’s pent up first thing in the morning.

contains: Jake Kim x fem!reader [ Lookism ]

cw: MDNI— implied smut, slight somnophilia at first, nicknames (baby), morning wood, some plot w fluff, reader consented!! slight ooc (depends on you haha), kissing, established relationship

— Saturday Night, Nov 30, 2024 • Sunday Evening, Dec 1 2024

You were fast asleep in your boyfriend’s arms, who was hugging you ever so tightly. You could feel his toned arms wrapped around your figure, holding on like a little boy.

You were in a relatively deep sleep as you were tired from the events that took place during the past few days.

To make matters worse, you were so busy that you couldn’t make time to hang out with your boyfriend— until now, that is. You knew that he was busy as well with big deal and so you chose not to bother him throughout the week— not that you could even do so…considering your packed schedule.

But nonetheless, you two were able to make time on this Saturday and that was all that mattered now. You guys met up and spent the day on a little date together and now you were wrapped in his arms. He had his arms wrapped around you from behind and had his face buried in the crook of your neck. It was such a peaceful moment, he could hear your shallow breathing and his steady breathing was also the last thing you heard before you drifted into a deep slumber, with not a single care for anything else in the world now that Jake has you in his arms again— not worrying about big deal or a certain someone just as he usually is.

So why did he wake up with a hard on? He couldn’t remember what he was dreaming about before he suddenly woke up but all that was occupying his mind was you. He was unbearably hard, which caused him this constant, intense pain and was probably why his body woke him up at 9 in the morning when he wanted to sleep in. His dick was stretching his boxers out so much, to the point that it was uncomfortable and tight in all the worst ways.

If you were awake at the moment, you definitely would have been able to feel the tent formed in his boxers, poking at your ass with such intrusion. But you weren’t awake so you were completely unaware of your boyfriend’s member poking you from behind, impatiently aching and desperate for some attention.

He groaned lowly, “shit. right now? seriously..?” He felt so desperate and yet helpless, he didn’t want to wake you but he seriously needed some help from his pretty little girlfriend who doesn’t know it yet, but will definitely be helping him out a whole lot.

He looked at your sleeping figure, so peaceful that it for some reason made his dick twitch. You were wearing his shirt along with some small, tight shorts that hugged your ass in the best way possible. And Jake absolutely loves your ass, to the extent that he takes any chance he gets to fondle with it. So your cute little outfit really wasn’t helping with his growing problem. He sighed to himself as he looked at your sleeping figure, you looked incredibly gorgeous and he kept his eyes locked on you. He then gently caressed your shoulder and stroked your soft skin with such genuine care. But he knew what he had to do, and so he decided he would do it.

He managed to slowly slip his boxers off his dick, leaving it exposed underneath the blanket you two were wrapped in. He slowly pulled your bottoms off and pushed your panties to the side, looking down at his mischievous act. He almost hated himself for doing this while you were asleep and unaware but with his aching member, he really wasn’t focused on that part as much.

He gently lined himself up at your entrance and didn’t have to lubricate you beforehand with how much his dick was leaking precum despite being untouched.

He knew what he was doing was wrong, so he was silently hoping you wouldn’t be mad at him.

He slowly pushed himself in, groaning as he felt the pain lift and the pleasure immediately began running through his body. He started pushing it in— centimeter by centimeter while still caressing your soft skin in hopes that you wouldn’t wake up. But you did, almost immediately too. You slightly groaned as you did so and your walls tightened at the sudden feeling of bring so full— earning a groan from Jake.

“Fuuuck…. don’t do that, baby” He suddenly whispered in your ear, you involuntarily clenched around his girth again from hearing his raspy morning voice right in your ear. His grasp on your shoulder tightened and he started to move in and out, trying to get any friction that he can while you were still trying to stir up what’s happening.

“Jake?? What’r you doing..?” You managed to utter out despite the constant distraction going on under the blanket.

“Couldn’t help m’self, baby.. needed this so bad,” He responded directly in your ear, earning the same goosebumps to form on your skin from the seemingly innocent gesture that somehow riled you up over and over again, “needed you so bad, please.” He added with his voice starting to get more labored and his breathing becoming more strenuous. He continued to push himself into your hole repeatedly, chasing his climax.

You were still a bit dazy but felt comfortable nonetheless with how he was spooning you while helping himself. You’ve been with Jake long enough to know that he is such a sweetheart in bed, all gentle and loving with you. And at this moment, he still was despite being desperate to solve his problem.

You decided to help him out by subtly grinding your ass on his cock which almost pushed him over the edge, but he didn’t want to cum just yet. He wanted to drag this for as long as he can because it just felt that good.

“Mmhh, Jake.. S’deep,” You whispered, earning another groan from him. You knew he was close with how his pace was increasing and his groans were getting louder.

“You feel so good, baby.. Hugging me so tight, so perfect and warm f’me…” He spoke into your ear, pulling yet another moan out of you. He trailed his hand down into your shirt and started fondling with your boobs. He buried his head even further into your neck, only to start kissing and sucking on your skin harshly yet sweetly.

His thrusts started to get sloppy and his dick started to twitch in your pussy, earning pointless babbling from you. He only shushed you in response, whispering sweet nothings in your ear to get you even more aroused—which definitely worked because you could feel yourself getting closer to your climax as well.

He continued to thrust his dick into you, sloppy yet harshly— producing slapping sounds from your guys’ skin hitting each other repeatedly. He moved his hand over to your ass and groped it hard. As he kept thrusting in and out of you, he fondled with your ass and sucked on your soft skin.

It was all too much and the room was filled with your moaning and babbling about your boyfriend, paired with his low groans that progressively got louder as the moment went on.

You were in absolute ecstasy with how much pleasure was given to you in such short time, and Jake was trying his best not to turn you over and fuck you roughly right then and there. He held his composure while pounding into you.

“Shi..t, shit. shit.. I-I’m close,” He spoke out, obviously struggling not to lose his mind right there, “can I cum inside, pre..tty please, please. please,” He immediately added, and boy was he was desperate. You frantically nodded and spoke, “m’cumming—!!”

“Then cum with me, pretty girl,” and you did. Almost immediately after he said that, too. He buried himself as deep as he could in your guys’ position and squeezed your ass tightly.

You were in absolute ecstasy while being filled up, both of your guys’ breathing was intense and all that you could understand at that moment was just how deep he was, you could practically feel his bulge on your stomach and the vibrations as his dick twitched and released in you was pure bliss. Your walls squeezed him ever so tightly as you came, causing him to feel even more euphoric.

“Sorry to wake you, baby..” Jake said once he was able to catch his breath. You replied, “it’s mkay baby, anything for you.”

“Such a sweet girl, aren’t you?” He responded, stroking your hair.

You only giggled in response and he gave you a kiss on the cheek. He continued to stroke your hair ever so gently as both of your heartbeats slowed down, going back to its normal rate.

What a way to start the day, right?

notes: yes i disappeared for so long.. ive been busy and i really wasn’t in the mood to write at all, or even if i was i just didn’t have time.. so im very sorry for all the unanswered requests and pending works..

I’ve also decided to just make my layout simple with this one divider that I made and no more extras, since that’s a lot of unnecessary work for me hehe and its just been bothering me, if i could archive my works w/o deleting them, i would because id like a fresh start because there are works im not proud of but they have a bunch of notes so it doesn’t feel right to just delete 😓 (how to archive help)

anyways, thank you for the request and sorry for it taking so long!! I appreciate all interactions with my works and as per usual, please don’t copy or steal my work in any way <3

#lookism #lookism fandom #lookism imagines #unreleasedwrites #Jake Kim #jake kim lookism #lookism jake kim #kim gimyung #kim gimyung lookism #lookism kim gimyung #lookism smut #lookism fluff #smut #fluff #lookism jake

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ghostwise · 21 days ago

Note

oooh 51 for the touch prompts :)c

51. caressing the other’s cheek, 1k tags: rook x harding, male laidir, act 2 spoilers

Acute lyrium toxicity, reads the header across Emmrich’s handwritten notes. It is not something he is often called upon to treat, so he’s spent the past couple of evenings brushing up on the subject.

He’s read about lyrium’s use in dwarven runecraft, its application in the Circle of Magi as well as the Templar order, and, most intriguing to him, its susceptibility to Blight. He has even reviewed first-hand reports of red lyrium from the Inquisition, courtesy of their very own Inquisition scout, whose interest in the subject has become an all-consuming drive as of late. And for good reason, following her encounter with the Titan’s shadow.

Emmrich has read enough to feel reassured. By all accounts, Rook received a lyrium dosage several times greater than that given to a mage during their Harrowing, and yet, he is still breathing. Whatever Harding did to him down there worked. Usually non-lethal, once the substance is cleared from the blood, so say the texts.

But for Lace Harding, such words hold little weight. She won’t rest until she sees Rook open his eyes.

So Emmrich waits with her. He brings her another cup of tea and Manfred hovers close by, sugar tongs in hand.

“Thank you,” Harding whispers. She smiles weakly as Manfred sweetens her tea. One cube, two cubes, three. Four.

“That’s quite enough, Manfred,” Emmrich murmurs.

“It’s alright. I need all the sweetness I can get,” Harding says, and, for Manfred’s sake, sips at the sugary tea.

The skeleton utters a pleased, gurgling hiss before returning to Laidir’s side, sitting opposite Harding.

“You know, Harding,” Emmrich says carefully, “You should rest. His condition is stable. And I dare say, Manfred has been as constant a caregiver as you and I have.”

“Thank you for your concern,” Harding says evenly. “I’m fine.”

“Lace-” Emmrich sighs.

“Really, Emmrich.” She looks up at him, a puffy and dark quality to the skin under her eyes. “I’m fine. You forget, I’ve spent the last decade… dealing with crisis. Finding solutions.” She shifts and sets her teacup upon the bedside table. “With the Inquisition, I set up new outposts and explored places I’d never dreamed of seeing. Since then, I’ve traveled everywhere—tracking Solas, fighting Venatori, slavers, mercenaries—so, sitting here beside him? It’s easy, Emmrich. Too easy, maybe. This isn’t a problem I can aim an arrow at. It’s…”

Emmrich watches her lapse into silence. She’d done a good job putting things into words, up until she hit a feeling she couldn’t name. He’s a romantic himself; he’s well aware of the tangled paths hearts can take.

“When you first became aware of this… complication, between your emotions and your new-found abilities,” he says slowly, “You mentioned feeling somewhat responsible. And I told you-”

“To be patient,” Harding completes.

On the bed, Lirio lets out a raspy breath. She looks at him for a moment, waiting for his breathing to relax again, before continuing.

“I appreciated that, you know. It was good advice. Everyone else kept saying, don’t worry. But why wouldn’t I worry? I had no clue what was happening to me, and I worse, I was hurting someone I cared about. Or they’d say, it’s not your fault. But it wasn’t about it being my fault, it was about…”

Another pause. Emmrich let his mind wander for a moment, down a hypothetical path: if he had changed, unexpectedly, completely, in such a way that he inadvertently hurt those dearest to him, what would he think?

“It was about understanding yourself,” he guesses. “Making peace with the power.”

“Yeah,” Lace nods. “Yeah, I never felt it was my fault. But I knew it was my responsibility to figure it out. Maybe I never would. And would he be okay with that? Would I?” She glances away, recalling the conversation. “He said he would. I’m inclined to believe him.”

“And now?” Emmrich prompts.

“Now…” Lace shakes her head at the wonder that is her life. “I didn’t ask for this gift, but I have it anyway. The pain the Titans experienced eons upon eons ago… to me, it feels like it happened just yesterday. That’s not my fault. That’s not anyone’s fault. I don’t think it’s something the Titan did to me purposefully, anyway.”

She hesitates, gathering her next words. She still finds it challenging to explain some pieces of what she experienced, but she tries anyway, knowing Emmrich will try to understand.

“Their sense of time is different… a continent could take a lifetime to form, mountains and forests blinking in and out of view. They don’t exist, quick and isolated from others, like we do. And I’m not sure if Titans feel love like we feel love. But they feel connection, through the lyrium. And without connection, there’s just… nothing. The most horrible nothing. A complete inversion of the connection they need to survive.”

“Isatunoll,” Emmrich says with a smile.

“Isatunoll,” Harding echoes softly. “I’m not a Titan. I have to feel like a person feels. Lirio helped me see that.”

“Ah, yes. By exposing himself to the Titan’s lyrium fully!”

Harding glances up at him. Suddenly, she laughs; the clearest sound of laughter he’s heard from her in days.

“You are looking at me with the biggest, cheesiest smile, Emmrich,” she says. “You’re all… mushy and sappy…”

“It’s terribly romantic, Harding,” Emmrich sighs. “I’m happy for you. That’s all.”

“Um. Thank you.” She giggles. “Really, thank you. For all your help. I’m happy too. Or, I will be. Just as soon as I can speak to him. As soon as I know I can…”

Across the bed, Manfred clatters his ribs. A shiver of bones lends way to a happy hiss. Emmrich and Lace look up, conversation forgotten, as Lirio stirs; all stiff muscles and post-lyrium aches.

Lirio cracks open his eyes and blinks as the world around him comes into focus, slowly. All he can see is a bloom of red, the exact shade of which immediately thrills him. “Lace,” he murmurs, though he can’t quite see her yet.

“Lirio,” she breathes. “I’m here.”

She reaches a trembling hand to cup his cheek. She watches for that characteristic blue glow, but it doesn’t come. Then Rook reaches up to cover her hand with his own, leaning into the touch as naturally as rain falls on the windward side of a mountain.

“I’ll fetch more tea,” Emmrich says hurriedly. He pulls Manfred along, away from the two.

As he goes, he thinks to himself again, isatunoll. And wonders whether mountains and people have more in common than Harding had guessed.

#thank youuu <3 this is quite rambly but i wanted to fluff up that act 2 scene bc it wrapped up far too quickly for my liking #rinnywrites #dragon age #datv #lace harding #rook x harding #laidir #oc: lirio laidir

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moonsandmobilityaids · 3 months ago

Text

To Walk In Part 2

Pairings: Remus Lupin x disabled!reader (Part of my poly!marauders x disabled!reader universe) Summary: You and Remus talk about the night before. Warnings: Mentions of catheters, self-worth issues Series Masterlist | Part 1

Your eyes flutter open to a new day, the weight of last night's revelation pressing down on you like a lead blanket. It's difficult to think of anything else but the dread that sits heavy in your stomach, churning with every thought of what Remus might be thinking now.

You remain still in bed, the soft pillow beneath your head offering little comfort for the turmoil within. Remus is there, propped up against the headboard with a book in his hands. The morning light filters through the window, casting an ethereal glow upon him and accentuating the worry lines etched around his eyes. His presence should soothe you, yet it only serves to remind you of your vulnerability.

The memory of the catheter from last night is still fresh, too fresh, and you can't help but shift under the sheets, causing Remus to look up.

"Love, you're awake," he says softly, closing his book and setting it aside. His voice is gentle, a stark contrast to the harsh reality of your situation, and for a moment, you want nothing more than to lose yourself in its warmth. But your anxiety refuses to be quelled, and you attempt a small smile, though it wavers at the edges.

“Mmm,” you hum in response, a noncommittal sound that does little to mask your unease. You draw the blanket up higher, a thin shield from the weight of his scrutiny. It's not that you don't trust him—it's just that right now, you can't trust yourself.

He doesn't miss the small gesture, the way you retreat further into the cocoon of fabric. His brow furrows slightly, concern etching lines onto his usually smooth forehead. He has always been perceptive, able to read between the lines of your carefully composed facade. It's one of the reasons you've always felt safe with him, why his presence has been a constant source of reassurance. But today, even his steadying influence can't quell the storm raging inside you.

"Would you like to speak about what happened last night?" His voice is so soft, a low murmur that barely disturbs the silence of the room. He's cautious, careful not to push too hard, but the question hangs heavy in the air between you, reminding you of the reality you're trying to keep at bay.

Your heart stutters in your chest, skipping a beat, and for a moment, you can't breathe. You don't want to talk about it—not because you don't trust him, but because speaking it aloud feels like an admission. An admission that things are different now, that *you* are different. And you're terrified of what will happen if you give voice to the fear that's been gnawing at your insides.

"I..." Your voice is barely audible, a whisper lost among the rustling sheets. "I don’t want you to see me...differently." The confession hangs heavy in the air, a secret shared in the quiet of the dawning day.

His frown deepens, his gaze never leaving yours as he leans closer. There’s a tension in the way he moves, like a string pulled taut, ready to snap at any moment. "What do you mean?"

You sigh, the sound aching with the weight of unspoken fears and frustration. "It's just... everything." Your hands move in vague gestures, encompassing the catheter, the wheelchair, everything. "I don't want you to think I'm not—" The words are there on the tip of your tongue, but they're too raw, too real to release into the world.

"That I'm not... attractive anymore," you finally whisper.

Saying it aloud feels like admitting defeat, and you instantly regret it. You turn your head away, cheeks flushed with embarrassment, suddenly aware of how absurd your concerns must seem when stacked against the reality of your condition. How can you think about attraction when your body is a battlefield, when even the simplest tasks leave you breathless and weak?

Remus blinks, his brow furrowing as he tries to decipher the tangle of emotions behind your words. He doesn't laugh or dismiss your fears as trivial; instead, his hand reaches out, fingertips brushing gently against your cheek. It's a silent plea for you to look at him, to let him see you.

"Sweetheart," he murmurs, and it's such a familiar term, one James often uses. But when Remus says it, it's different—softer, more personal, imbued with an intimacy born of shared secrets and quiet understanding. "You're not—You're still you. You're the woman I'm mad about, and nothing can change that."

His words weave a thread of comfort through the fabric of your thoughts, but it frays against the rough edges of self-doubt. "But last night... you saw me... struggling to use a catheter and then helped. That's not something I ever wanted you to see."

His hand leaves your cheek, warm fingers curling around your own, grounding you in their steadiness. "What I saw last night," he begins, voice firm yet gentle, like the caress of a summer breeze, "was strength. More strength than you realise you possess. And not a single moment of it—not one—made me think any less of you."

His words strike at the heart of your insecurities, each syllable a challenge to the doubts you've nursed in silence. You search his face for any sign of pity, but there is none—only the steady glow of sincerity.

"This isn't about pretending to be perfect," he continues, voice firm with conviction. "You're perfect for me, for us. Last night... it didn't change the way I feel about you. If anything, it made me love you more because I wish you'd let me in sooner. You don't have to bear this burden alone."

Your throat tightens, making speech impossible. His gaze holds yours, unwavering and sure. He means it—all of it. There's no hesitation, no shadow of doubt lurking behind his words.

"But... what if it becomes too much?" Your voice barely rises above a whisper, fear creeping into the spaces between your words. "What if one day, you decide it's too much to handle?"

Remus's hold on your hand tightens, his thumb tracing reassuring circles over your knuckles. A small smile plays at the corners of his mouth, not out of amusement, but a quiet sort of confidence. "I'm not going anywhere, love. I'm in this with you, for better or worse. We've already faced so much together. I'm not afraid of this—and neither should you be."

His words crack the shell you've formed, seeping into spaces within your heart that you'd forgotten existed. You feel a slow and steady release of tension from your shoulders, the burden of the previous night lifting ever so slightly at his touch. He speaks no more, simply holding you with a gentleness that only Remus Lupin seems to possess.

"I... I don't want you to think I'm weak," you confess, your voice no louder than the rustle of sheets beneath you.

"You're the farthest thing from weak," he assures you, the certainty in his tone wrapping around you like a warm blanket. "You've faced things others can't even imagine, and you're still here, still fighting. That's not weakness. It's strength."

Something shifts within you, something small but significant. His words echo in the hollows of your mind, filling them with a truth you've long denied yourself. Perhaps he's right—perhaps you are stronger than you've allowed yourself to believe.

"And remember," Remus adds, his voice low and soothing as a lullaby, "if you ever need help with anything, don't hesitate to ask. I'll be there. James and Sirius too."

Your throat tightens, and for a moment, all you can do is nod. Then, slowly, you find your voice again. "They don't know... about the catheter. Not yet."

Remus's eyes soften in understanding. "That's your decision to make, love. When you're ready to tell them, they'll understand. They care for you as deeply as I do."

His voice is a balm to your ragged nerves, making the promise ring true in spite of everything. The fear isn't completely gone, but it's quieter now, overshadowed by Remus's unwavering presence.

You look up at him and finally allow the ghost of a smile to touch your lips—a small victory, but a significant one. "Thank you," you whisper, the gratitude heavy in your voice.

Remus's own smile is gentle, the lines around his eyes crinkling in response. He leans in, pressing a light kiss to your forehead. "Anytime, love. Always."

#remus lupin x reader #poly!marauders x reader #poly!marauders x you #remus lupin x you

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fawnsflowerbed · 2 years ago

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hi! if it’s alright could I ask about leon x reader where reader thinks leon still has feelings for ada (angst with fluff ending), it's a lot of worries and insecurities and something like "I'm sorry I can't be her" well, in the end leon comforts reader

English is not my first language sorry ahaha I hope I correctly conveyed to you what I wanted <3

So what you're saying is you WANT ME to make you cry.

Challenge accepted.

A night out with friends means a trip down memory lane. But a certain stop on that trip has you anxious, and it's about time Leon said something.

Word count: 1,825

Warnings/content: GN reader, 2nd person (your, yours), swearing, ANGST, sweet ending. re6 Leon onwards shit cause I love that man.

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“More like well over 8 years.”

When Chris had blurted those words out drunkenly at a meetup downtown, you could see the colour drain from Leon’s face in mere seconds.

Shit was about to go down.

After a few months of nonstop working to no end, you all figured it was about time for a few drinks and a good chat with your fellow B.O.W experts. There was no harm in that, right?

What you didn’t realise was Chris was the most blunt and truthful man when his alcohol started to hit him.

It was a simple conversation in the beginning, nothing more than reminiscing over the old times.

But then someone brought up Ada. You could’ve sworn half the room saw you physically tense.

“God, we don’t need to talk about that.” Leon laughed. “I had a hopeless fling with a woman I chased for a while. Nothing else to be said.”

And then Chris gave that oh so helpful comment.

His statement had you and Leon stealing one solid, tense stare at each other before you excused yourself to the bathroom. Leon swore under his breath, watching your hurried steps over stained floorboards. You went in search of a safe spot, likely to cry. Helena gave you both a look of sympathy.

“They didn’t know?”

He stirred the ice in his drink, mind running a million miles a second through a soft haze of alcohol. “They knew about her. They didn’t have to know about how complicated it was, not yet anyway.”

Once they finally wrestled you out of the bathroom - your excuse for being in there for a solid 20 minutes was that you were okay, you just felt sick - the ride back home was tense. The heavy hum of the heater was all to be heard, neither of you choosing to speak. Not yet, anyway. There was nothing to say.

But when the car pulled up into the driveway and you slammed the door a bit too hard, Leon knew it was about time he said something.

“Love-”

“Don’t. Do not.” You hissed. “The neighbours don’t need to hear what I’m about to say.”

He sucked in a breath, watching as you stormed towards the front door. You were never one to show your anger publicly. He followed suit a few steps behind, mind trying to piece together a coherent answer to the questions you definitely had.

As soon as the door was closed behind you both, he watched you charge for the hallway to pace back and forth. Quick steps in anger. He bit the inside of his cheek. How could he explain this so easily? You already knew about his work in the DSO, and the countless missions he went on. He was just hoping he’d have more time to tell you about Ada. The years of back and forth they’d both agreed to discard. It wasn’t working for either of them, a constant cat and mouse that led to someone getting hurt. Funny enough, a few months after their agreement, he’d met you. And his entire world had been flipped on its back.

It was happening at this very moment, his world tumbling. But not for the right reasons.

“Sweetheart.”

“Eight years? You devoted eight years to a woman, and told me it was just ‘some kind of fling’?” Your voice boomed off of the walls, shoulders squared in defense. “Put your life on the line, put other people’s lives on the line for her? A mere YEAR before we started dating?!”

All he could do was sigh. “Just give me a minute to explain, alright.”

He watched as you folded your arms with a scowl.

“What I’d told you was true. We met in Raccoon City, she saved my ass before ditching me for the G-virus sample. I presumed she was dead. Then she saved me again in Spain. We’d met time after time on the field, but it never really became an actual thing. We were just looking for some kind of distraction, I guess.”

“Oh so that kiss on the tram was nothing to you?”

“That was well over six years ago, hon.”

“And so was you risking your fucking life twice to save her during Tall Oaks and Tatchi.”

Leon stiffened just a bit. “You cannot get upset with me for building a connection with someone before even meeting you, Y/N.”

“I can get upset with you for lying to me about this stuff! Like that you fucked her and DIDN’T TELL ME!”

Leon’s voice caught in the back of his throat. Clearly someone had run their mouth.

You laughed bitterly, tears threatening to fall but you choked them down.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought. So much for a fling.” You couldn’t meet his eyes as you spoke. “You think the girls at the office don’t whisper? Don’t gossip about the DSO’s golden boy and his affairs to try and piss me off? Bringing up photos of her file, bitching about our differences. I already know you’re well out of my league, but being constantly reminded doesn’t exactly make me feel any better.”

It was true. Settling in had never been harder when you had such big shoes to fill. You felt like a complete opposite in comparison to Ada, and that hurt. You already had bad self esteem, Leon knew that much. Nights of holding you close as you asked over and over why he was with you.

But shit, he had no idea this had been happening. Bitching behind your back, these people who were meant to be your coworkers. You’d only just started working for the DSO, about 2 months after dating Leon. You’d met during a recon mission in your hometown. There were rumours that a drug dealer nearby was potentially trying to recreate old B.O.W strands, and whilst doing his rounds of the civilians he’d spotted you. He was almost winded. But he tried his best to keep his cool, going through the usual questions he gave everyone else. Your soft eye contact and gentle demeanour wasn’t helping him focus, though. Like a soft breeze after a storm. Helena couldn’t help but laugh, watching him step away after questioning you with a strained smile. Once you were out of view she slapped him lightly upside the head, still smirking.

“Oh you’re fucked.”

Leon rubbed the spot she’d swatted with a sigh. “Yeah, that’s for sure.”

And how it was so true. After years of anger and agony, he’d found a sweet sunbeam in the shape of a human being. A human who dragged him out shopping, forcing him to pick out new clothes because they refused to let him wear the same t-shirt for a week. A human built from broken beginnings that somehow threw his world into reverse, bringing that joy from his 20’s back to his battered body. Someone to hold and caress and kiss, to dance with in the kitchen and pillow fight with and take to formal events. Someone who stole his blue RPD hoodie and constantly teased him over his academy photos. Pointing out how scrawny he used to be before trying to arm wrestle him (and losing instantly). A human sculpted for him by the hand of whatever gods there were, every one from every religion took turns touching up your edges and carving out a person he felt unworthy of calling his. A flower left untouched by the horrors of the world he was forced to face. He needed to protect you, craved it, would starve himself if it meant you thrived.

He should’ve told you more often how much he loved you.

“Sweetheart.”

"And its no wonder. I mean, I barely knew you. For all I know you still love her!"

Your voice broke into pieces. Fists balled as if fighting for your love, body rigid and tears falling.

“So I’m sorry, Leon! I’m sorry that I’m not- I don’t know. That I’m not some mysterious woman you can spend year after year chasing. I’m sorry I’m not confident, I’m not cunning, and I’m an eyesore next to you. I’m sorry if I’m too boring for you and that you settled because you two were always on different sides. I’m sorry I’m not her.”

He’d never known the feeling of true heartbreak until he’d heard you say that. He’d felt something close to this when his ex left him before Raccoon, but not this heavy. Not a weight pulling him into the water to drown him.

You were drowning too. He could see it.

Leon watched as your once defensive demeanour shattered. Your body caved inwards, leaning against the nearest wall for some type of support. He couldn’t stand it anymore. He took two strong steps towards you, taking gentle hold of your tear-streaked face with a look of nothing short of love.

“Look at me.”

You couldn’t bear it.

“Come on, sunshine. Please.”

It was an internal battle, trying to gaze upon the one you love when you had so many conflicting feelings in that moment. Still, you did. Dewed eyelashes took their time to open, bloodshot eyes finally focusing on Leon.

“You are the most beautiful thing I have ever set eyes on. And if anyone has at any point made you feel like an eyesore, then I only hope they go blind. They don’t deserve to look at you, okay?”

His voice was hushed and sweet, as if that of a prayer spoken to some holier being.

But to him, there was nothing holier than you.

“I had no idea what love ever felt like. At first I thought it was my ex before Raccoon, but god knows that was bad. So many people around me seemed to have it all figured out. I thought I’d never find it. But fuck. I have never felt this way for any other person in my life. It never felt like this. If you’d told my younger self that I’d found the person I want to spend the rest of my life with, I think he’d be stunned to see it's someone like you. Hell, I’m still stunned by you.” His mouth blurting words of affirmation quirked into a quick smile. “You’re not her. And that’s why I love you. Because I know you’re here to stay. You won’t run off. Or at least, I hope you won’t.”

Bruised over fingertips swept the running tears out from under your eyes. His touch was something sacred, something warm and giving that kept the tears flowing. Every bottled emotion came tumbling out.

“You are my anchor. You are my rock. You are my shelter after years of chasing broken promises and hopeless dreams of a rookie cop on his first day.” His boyish laugh recalling the day everything went south hit your ears, making you look deeper into him. “And I am so sorry if I ever made you feel like anything less than that. But you need to trust me on this. You are mine, and I am yours. I would not trade you for any person, any object, any sum or wish or miracle in the world. I’m not settling with you, love. I’ve stopped running because I’ve found a place to stay. And I’m staying, forever. You got that?”

Fighting with teeth and tongue to force out a sentence, there was nothing more than a question playing on your lips.

“Even if I can’t pull off red?”

His own lips curled up into a soft smile. His head tilted forward, pressing his forehead against yours that was creased with worry.

His voice made you smile too.

"I was always more of a blue guy anyway."

#leon s kennedy x reader #leon x reader #leon kennedy #leon s kennedy #leon s. kennedy #leon scott kennedy #resident evil x reader #leon kennedy x reader #requests #x reader #IM SORRY FOR HURTING Y'ALL IT HAD TO BE DONE #works ✎₊˚⊹

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alaydabug2 · 7 months ago

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I feel like being angsty

This is while Keefe is in the Forbidden Cities

Enjoy ☺️

It was getting late in the chilly evening. The sun was slowly dipping over the horizon. If Keefe wasn't about to do what he was thinking of, he would've reveled in its beauty.

He took a deep breath and swung one leg over the railing. Then the other. He balanced on the small ledge.

He had to do this. There was no debating it. It wasn't safe -for him or others- to be around anymore. The longer he was breathing, the longer his mom was able to manipulate him and use him for awful, horrendous things.

Keefe already knew he was never going back to the Lost Cities. He would never see his friends again. It didn't matter if he did this or not. He. Wouldn't. Go. Back.

Tears pricked his eyes as he stared down at the water below. It was a long fall. His heart picked up pace

He'd heard before that falling on water was the equivalent of falling on concrete. He just hoped that it would take him out quickly, and he wouldn't have to suffer through too much of the pain.

But...it'd be worth it. That short amount of time, to never have to feel it again. It strengthened his resolve.

Everything hurt enough as it was. The human emotions cut straight to his gut. The choked back words burned his throat. His head pounded from the constant stress it all caused. His skin ached from his emotions slowly going numb, leaving behind almost a hum from its lack of presence. His heart squeezed against his ribs from knowing how many times he'd hurt his friends before.

He was making sure it never happened again.

Keefe Sencen had officially hit rock bottom. And no matter how hard and long he tried, he didn't have the strength or energy to climb back up. It was too steep.

He'd been fighting for so long. His entire life. At least soon, he would be able to rest.

A few more deep breaths to calm his nerves. Just when he planted his feet for the jump, a panicked voice spoke out behind him.

"What are you doing?"

Keefe turned his head to be face to face with a woman who was likely to be in her late twenties. His eyes widened.

Her face was pale and terror filled her eyes. The man beside her, who Keefe assumed was her husband, had a similar appearance.

"Oh, ummm." How was he supposed to get himself out of this one? He could always just jump off and not have to worry about it, but that would probably traumatize the poor couple. Plus...for some odd reason, he felt compelled to stay on the bridge for a little longer. "I'm just... looking out at the view. The water looks nice this evening. Doesn't it?"

The man nodded. "It does, but...that doesn't seem very safe."

Keefe shrugged. "It'll be fine." He threw in a nervous laugh. "I've always wanted to cross high diving off my bucket list anyhow." He was trying to be convincing, but he couldn't quite meet their eyes.

The woman didn't seem to be buying it. She whispered, "You don't have to do this, you know?" She placed a hand on one of his wrists. Probably to make sure he couldn't try to jump off as easily. "It's not going to be like this forever."

Keefe didn't know why he was saying this, but the next thing that came out of his mouth was, "It's been like this my entire life."

The woman's heartache sliced straight to his core with the contact. He could feel her husband’s in the background as well. It was making his head bleary.

"What's your name?" The man asked him.

"I'm Keefe," he murmured.

"Keefe," the man repeated. "I'm Maverick, that's my wife, Ruby." He seemed to hesitate a moment before asking, "How... How old are you?"

His voice was almost inaudible, "Sixteen."

Both of the couple's eyes teared up. Keefe didn't dare to face them. He squeezed his eyes shut. There was a slight pressure of a hand on his shoulder. He willed himself not to cry.

"Why would you want to do something like this? You have your entire life ahead of you. Why cut it so short?" Ruby whispered.

Keefe shook his head and laughed darkly. "You have zero idea on how messed up my life's been from the start. It's just not worth saving anymore, and I'd rather it be on my own terms than someone making the decision for me. You wouldn't understand. No one does."

"Well," Maverick said, "help us understand." When Keefe didn't say anything, he continued. "We don't have anywhere to be. We're able to listen."

Keefe couldn't help shedding a few tears as he explained, "My parents are pieces of absolute garbage. They don't care about me. My mom has made me do awful, awful things that I don't even remember doing. I've pushed my friends away so many times that they all probably hate me by now. I keep, quite litterly, running away from all of my problems. I keep putting my friends in danger. Everything just keeps spiraling into a dark pit of doom, and," his voice cracked, "I just can't deal with it anymore. It's too much for me to handle."

The hand from his shoulder moved to run up and down his back in slow, soothing movements. Ruby spoke, "What has your mom made you do? And why would your friends be in danger?" When he didn't say, she added, "It might make you feel better to get it off your chest."

It was clear they weren't going to be leaving anytime soon, so he gave in. "My mom is part of..." He trailed off. How was he supposed to explain this without them thinking he was crazy. "My mom is apart of...a cult like gang. And she wants me to join, saying that the whole reason I was born is to take her place. And...one night she...gave me some sort of drug so I wouldn't remember what happened. And had me go out in the street to distract this man and his daughter. And..." he hung his head. "They got hit by a bus and died. I learned about this a couple of days ago, and it's been eating me up since. And with my friends, they keep getting hurt from my mom. And I'm not able to stop her. So I ran away and skipped town. I don't plan on ever going back. It's better for them this way. Better for me."

"I'm sure your friends are worried about you, though," Maverick murmured. You don't want them to try and find you, then have to figure out you jumped off a bridge."

Keefe shrugged. "This is the second time I've run away. I'm not counting on them waiting up for me. I've caused them so much trouble. They'll be glad to get rid of."

"What about your dad? I know your mom is bad, but what about him?"

He snorted. "Yeah, I'm sure he's up looking all over the planet for me as we speak. Worried sick. It's not like I'm his only child or anything." The raw truth of that stung. He blinked the tears away from his eyes. He wasn't going to break down in front of them. He just wasn't. He'd at least like to keep a little dignity he had left.

"What about your future?" Ruby's voice was soft. "Don't you want to find love? Get married. Have kids of your own."

The girl he'd been trying very hard not to think about since stepping onto the bridge flashed through his mind. Her blond hair and beautiful brown eyes hurt to think about.

"I've already found it." WHY was he admitting this? "But...she likes my best friend. I don't want to interfere with that. She deserves to be happy, and I'm no good for her. I've hurt her so many times. And as long as my mom is around, I'd never have kids. That's just another person I care about she can hurt. I don't want to become like her or my dad anyhow."

"You have a lot to deal with for a sixteen year old," she noted. "But... there are still reasons to keep going."

"Like what?"

Ruby shared a look with her husband, probably struggling with trying to figure out what to say. Finally, Maverick pointed to the sky. "That's a beautiful sunset, isn't it?" The sun was sinking below the water. It filled the sky with vibrant yellows and pinks and reds. Keefe nodded. "Would you be sad if you were never able to see it again?"

"Yeah."

"Ok. Just... focus on going long enough each day to see the sun set. Then, the day is over. You can try again in the morning, clean slate."

Both Ruby and Maverick waited for him to process it. Finally, something inside him clicked, putting him back into a clearer head space as a gust of wind chilled his body.

"What am I doing?" Keefe muttered. He'd gotten so far. Survived for that long. He couldn't just give up.

He looked around frantically, trying to find a way back off the ledge. Tears pooled in his eyes, blurring his vision. His breath quickened.

"Easy," Ruby whispered. "We'll help you up."

Ruby pulled him up as Maverick made sure he didn't topple backward as he stepped over the rail. He collapsed in their arms, clinging as tight as he could. He shook from the adrenaline and the wind that he had just realized was biting at his skin. He couldn't hold back his tears anymore, and the floodgates broke free.

Neither of them seemed to mind. They held onto him just as tight. Their relief poured off of them in waves. He was pretty sure they were crying, too.

A warm hand squeezed his shoulder. Another one rubbed his back. A third cupped the back of his neck, holding him close to a body. Whose, he wasn't sure. Was this how caring parents were supposed to feel?

After being able to collect himself, they rushed to get him away from the railing and off the bridge. Maverick took off his jacket and placed it over Keefe's shoulders. It blocked some of the bitter wind from reaching his body.

They brought him inside a small, warm café and sat him down at a table. Ruby placed a cup in front of him. Something she called 'hot cocoa'.

He took a sip. It was warm and had mini marshmallows floating in it. It reminded him almost of cinnamcreme, except instead of cinnamon, it was chocolate. It warmed him up from the inside out.

They continued to sit and talk with him until the cafe closed. Even when it did, the owners didn't try to kick them out. They must've known it was important.

He'd seen some awful things from humans, but...they weren't all bad. Humans were still people, too. They had feelings and compassion. And two of them had just saved his life

For some reason, the council couldn't see that. It wasn't even the humans' fault they were separated from the lost cities!

If, by some miracle, he made it back home, he'd have to find a way to explain that to the council

Until then, he took another sip of his hot chocolate and explained the best he could about his mom without giving away the elves. Oddly enough, talking about his problems did actually make him feel a tad better. He'd have to figure out a way to use that to his advantage.

#keeper of the lost cities #kotlc #kotlc keefe sencen #tw #suicidal thoughts #my baby 😭#fanfic #btw #the part about hom killing those humans #is part of my theory for unraveled

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hmshermitcraft · 2 months ago

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pearldaph anon here with somethint other than pearldaph for once 😝

weekly theme submission : magic

this is goldenmoon / jimpearltyn btw (jimmy x pearl x martyn ) 🕊️🌙🌲 ~ 💛💙💚

UMMM TW FOR PARANOIA, FEELING OF BEING WATCHED, AND VAGUELY GOREY THOUGHTS !! 🦎

so martyn's never been one to believe in magic. all those folklore tales, stories of wizards and fairies and mermaids and bla bla bla. he really didnt bother with it. he much rather worry about his next rent payment than some magical hobo cursing him and his generations.

that all changed one night.

see, he's not a very anxious person. not very paranoid. he's got a degree of somewhat (read:debatable) reasonable thinking that tends to cancel out any fear or anxiety that might spark. however, that reasonable thinking doesn't account for the constant feeling of being watched by something. what that something is constantly evades him, however. as soon as he makes any sign of noticing, a suspicious look on his face, a glance around, the feeling and all with it disappears.

it got to the point where that feeling was driving him insane. it felt like something crawling in his skin, making him wish he could just tear it all off. it simmered, pumped through his veins like blood. he could almost taste the dry bile he could feel rising whenever he went outside.

it didnt help that nearly no one believed him, excluding his sweetheart of a roommate jimmy. he was so concerned when he told him, paying extra attention to him martyn swore that sometimes he could see golden wings on jimmys back whenever he came home or felt uneasy.

everything changed, however, when he saw the wolf. on his front doorstep.

for some reason, despite every hair and inch of skin that screamed run run run he stayed there. stayed watching it. the wolf was eerily pale, its fur coat a unnatural-but-beautiful shade of marble white. it seemed to almost glow under the shine of the full moon wasnt the moon only in waxing gibbous yesterday, it drew him in. it felt almost familiar.

as he stepped closer, the wolf ran to the forest. now, a smart, rational person like martyn would normally absolutely not follow this random wolf into the forest. however, at the state he was in, all rationality was thrown away. so he followed the wolf, chasing it as fast as his wobbly legs could carry. as he ran, he could hear wolves howling in the distance, his blood pumping faster with every note they sung.

at some point, the wolf stopped. so did martyn. his vision was fading out. his breath was harsh, heaving, his body screaming with soreness and aches from extertion, and he was pretty certain he'd sprained a foot or too. falling to the ground, he looked up his chest heaving his vision spotty and-

...and...

...oh.

oh.

[ - even now, martyn would be hard struck trying to recall what he'd saw. the memories were blurry and the night air was cold and harsh, and he might've been just a bit parched and maybe had some adrenaline still in his system, but he knows for sure, surer than he'd even been, that that night was the night he fell in love. - ]

she must have been a angel. a god, even.

her appearance, unassuming, meager, maybe one would even say plain, looked just that of a regular human woman. he couldnt be fooled, though. not with those eyes. oh gods, her eyes.

they reminded him of the night sky. of the cosmos. so much bigger. so much... greater. so... much…

brighter?¿ ..?

he was pretty sure he almost passed out. twice maybe. pushing on three times. nonetheless, he snapped out of that daze relatively fast, ignoring his head pounding he greeted the woman half heartedly, pointedly avoiding her eyes. she was smiling. she seemed rather amused at the mess of a display (read:martyn) and how chaotic his entrance was. she greeted him back and oh. she was going to be the death of him.

the woman's name seemed indecipherable, with how it was pronounced. it seemed impossible to speak via human tongue (because let's be honest, do we REALLY believe this lady is human?) and she seemed terribly aware of that fact. instead, she left that up to martyn. the man in question, very determined to not die, and maybe make the pretty lady happy came up with 'pearl.’

"like your eyes!" he'd said. "they're- er, really bright. real shimmery? kinda glowy. like a pearl, you know?"

not the best name he could've chosen, but hey. the lady liked it, so ha! nailed the first impression.

hopefully jimmy wouldnt mind the new guest?

[ - he did in fact not mind. in fact, as soon as martyn turned up to their front door with the woman, jimmy wrenching it it open with enough force to make him jump, he'd interrogated martyn immediately on where he'd been all night. though as soon as he saw pearl, all his fight left, a spark of something he couldn't quite decipher lighting up his expression. pearl’s grin widened. martyn had no idea what was going on. jimmy glanced back between the two, seemingly debating something, before turning to pearl and saying "does this mean I don’t have to bind my wings anymore?" - ]

anon notes - this turned out WAY longer than i meant for it to. woops.

um anyway hope this feeds the starving pearltyn solidarpearl and solidarwood fans ehe. sorry the jimmy content was actually very minimal maybe i should’ve put his as implied instead. oops

signing off,

~ 🌙🌾 (i get an emoji now right? right?!?)

Pearl politely doesn't mention how Martyn passed out part way home and she had to carry him until he woke again. That'll make perfect blackmail in the future (as if his introduction wasn't enough.) Because she will be staying. They can't get rid of her now.

Martyn also passes out again before he's able to properly process Jimmy's comment. Jimmy's kind of relieved - he knows Martyn's been struggling lately. Pearl carries him to bed, and Jimmy brushes through his hair.

He already looks softer. Like a weight has been taken from his shoulders. Maybe Pearl is the charm they need to keep whatever's been watching Martyn away...

#trafficshipping #ask #jimmy tag #martyn tag #pearl tag #jimpearltyn #mod 🎀#🌙🌾 anon #weekly theme: magic

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ink4spots · 6 months ago

Text

Breathe, breathe, breathe

In which: Tomoko comforts young Ryoma after a nightmare

Characters: (DIU) Ryoma Román, Tomoko Higashikata.

Genre: Hurt/Comfort.

TW: Domestic Abuse. (No harm happens in-text, but it's not subtle.)

* includes mention if Tomoko having twins in reference to @/bioeiectricity’s oc! Go follow him!

Ryoma ran through a dilapidated house. Trash, both in and out of bags, were scattered throughout the ground. She was conscious not to step on it as the consequences weighed heavy in her mind. Dangerously close, a loud rush of footsteps echoed her own as a constant reminder to quicken her pace.

There was no need for her to glance behind. She already knew her pursuer, just as she instinctively knew where to hide. Safety was close, just down the hall and to the second door to the right.

They burst inside the familiar room, their room, slamming the door shut behind them. Their next steps were practiced, almost automatic. They grabbed a chair, and jammed it underneath the door knob. It wobbled worryingly, still attached but loose in its cavity.

There was no time to think, however. Soon, yelling and banging overshadowed the pounding of her racing heart. The door knob rattled so hard they thought it would pop off. Summoning her strength, Ryoma braced against the battered door, their body jolting with every impact it took. With no other course of action, they shut their eyes tight, sobbed and prayed for it to end.

Ryoma abruptly sat up, sweaty and out of breath. The cold grip of fear had crossed over, along with the tears. It was less a dream, but a memory. It was all too real.

They stifled their sobs with their palm, so as not to wake the sleeping family. Even in their panicked state, they worried about inconveniencing others, though it was already too late for that.

“Ryo?”

“...M-Ms Tomoko.”

They turned to see the woman emerging from a dark doorway. Moonlight highlighted her exhaustion laden features. The front pieces of her hair that were usually pulled back were now dangling in front of her face. They swayed gently as she moved closer.

Along with everything else, Ryoma felt an acute pang of guilt. She sniffled.

Tomoko sat beside Ryoma on the opposite end of the couch, leaving about a foot’s space between them. She reached over to place her hand over theirs. Despite having several other sleeping options, they had declined to sleep anywhere else. Now, she was starting to believe this was part of the reason why.

“Did you have a nightmare?” She asked, though she knew the answer.

They nodded, salty tears trickling down their cheeks at the mention. They swiped them away with the back of their free hand.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Ryoma shook their head.

Another door creaked, louder. This time, an alarmed Ryohei had stomped down from his room. At the top of the steps, his worries were assuaged when he saw the both of them sitting together. Tomoko peered up at him, and dismissed him with a wave of her hand. She's got this.

The older man's brief appearance had stirred up another wave of tears. Ryohei slept upstairs. They must've been loud, Ryoma thought, feeling even guiltier still.

“Wait a sec, I'll get you some tissues, okay?”

Tomoko rose and made her way to the bathroom. It was pretty close by, and she knew how to find her way in the dark. It's a skill she’d acquired after many late nursing shifts. She would oftentimes have to navigate the house at night, with no lights on to avoid waking the kids. She recalled fond memories of kissing her children goodnight before heading out. It was a rough patch, certainly, but it wasn't all bad. A soft sob from the living room put a stop to her reminiscing.

She quickly fetched a box of tissues from the bathroom cabinet and she was back. At 16 years of age, Ryoma was already much taller than Tomoko, yet… there, on the couch, they had never looked smaller. She retook her seat next to them, placing the tissues in the space between them.

“Here you go.”

Ryoma dried her tears and emitted a sad, little sound that was probably a thank you.

“Can I get you anything else? Water?"

Ryoma said nothing for a bit. They stared down at their hands, wringing them.

“C-can..I…have a hug?” They hiccuped.

Hearing those words, her heart squeezed painfully, tears welling up in her own eyes. “Yes, of course. Come here.”

They embraced, and Ryoma released all that they were holding back. Tomoko rode it out, rocked her gently, interspersing warm assurances here and there. Back and forth, back and forth. At first, they clung to her tightly, as if Tomoko would vanish at any moment, leaving them desolate on the couch. But as time passed, her hold slackened with it.

Their sobs eased, and they were left sniffling, worn out. They were still with the exception of the occasional hiccup. Tomoko combed her fingers through their long hair. It was a surefire way to get Ryoma to fall asleep. When she brushed their hair, they always did, really no matter how short the session was…but Tomoko was willing to accept that outcome. Even if it meant being stuck in an uncomfortable position until Ryoma woke up. And she'd do it again.

None of them spoke for a long while, but they didn't need to. At that moment, resting her chin on Tomoko’s shoulder, there was no question they were loved.

Then, Ryoma spoke. It was very quiet, and marred by sleep, but due to their proximity she was able to hear it. Tomoko swore she heard her say ‘mom’. She felt ready to cry again.

“Yes?”

A little more awake now, they broke away from her and spoke up. “You should go to bed. It's late.”

Tomoko felt a little silly hearing that after using the same line so many times on her twins. Ryoma, though hardly ever gave her an occasion to. Such a hard worker, always so tired. It worried her, truthfully, but Ryoma would never let up.

She smiled. “Okay, but you should come with me.”

Ryoma was too sleepy to disagree.

With a decent deal of effort, Tomoko managed to hoist Ryoma onto her back, and started towards her bedroom. Short as she was, the young mother was strong. It also helped that Ryoma was thin as she was tall, so the transition was fairly smooth. Tomoko laid them down on one side of the bed, and she took up the other.

“Goodnight.”

Ryoma didn't answer. Tomoko looked to the side to find Ryoma already asleep. She was having another dream, but this time it would be much nicer.

#ryoma #jjba oc #diamond is unbreakable #drabble #?? fic?? qhat would you classify this as #tomoko higashikata #if you see typos no you didnt #i finished this early yesterday but i wanted to wait and draw for it #domestic abuse mention #physical abuse mention #diu #griffic posting

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sequinsmile-x · 1 year ago

Text

Everywhere, Everything

Ever since they started trying for a baby she’d felt this pressure that it had to work. That sex was no longer one of the things they did to express how much they loved each other, but it had a functional purpose too. One that so far, didn’t seem to be working.

AKA - The one where Aaron overhears Emily talk about her concerns about their sex life as they are trying to conceive, and he assures her they have nothing to worry about.

-x-

Hi friends!!

This is a very so slightly early birthday present for the lovely @cloudlessly-light!! It's her birthday tomorrow, and it seemed fitting that I'd write her some filth to mark the occasion.

Thank you for being my friend, for putting up with the constant snippets of fics and photos of my cat, and for generally just being such a lovely amazing person <3 Love you very much!

I hope you enjoy this, I purposely attempted to make it my filthiest fic yet (but with the classic Vic twist of all the feelings)

-x-

Words: 4.7k (we all know I can't control myself)

Warnings: Smut, 18+, pregnancy, discussion around trying to conceive

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

It was starting to get to her.

She and Aaron were trying for a baby. It was something they’d spoken about for a little while, both of them aware it was something they wanted and something they didn’t have a whole lot of time to make happen. Emily could practically hear her biological clock ticking, every negative test and arrival of her period making the sound louder, reverberating around her head in a way she was struggling to ignore.

Before she’d allowed herself to get her hopes up she’d spoken to her doctor, Aaron’s hand wrapped tightly around hers as she went through a barrage of tests, to find out if she could have children. If the damage Ian had left behind had impacted her ability to conceive or carry a child, a thought that in her worst moments would make her chuckle darkly, the heavy irony of it not lost on her as it sat on her chest.

The doctor had assured her that everything looked good, that there was no physical reason why she couldn’t get pregnant, and she let hope take over. She let herself start to imagine it, a little boy or girl who was half her and half Aaron, doomed to be the most stubborn person to ever walk the planet.

She threw away her contraceptive pills two weeks before they got married. She gets carried away with fairytale thoughts of falling pregnant on her honeymoon, of coming home with more than they’d left with.

She hadn’t been that lucky.

It had only been four months since their wedding, and she knew she was being hard on herself, that in the grand scheme of things it really hadn’t been that long, but she could feel the hope start to fade. Sadness starting to creep its way in when she took a test only for it to be negative, her period only ever a few hours behind her making the decision to pee on a stick as if her body was mocking her.

She’d fallen pregnant the first time she’d ever had sex. A quick fumble with a boy who later blamed her for it all, leaving the decision he’d got to walk away from solely on her 15-year-old shoulders. It felt wrong, almost cruel, that the same wasn’t true now. That it was proving more difficult now she was married to the love of her life, now this was something she could want and have.

She blows out a steady breath and pours herself a glass of wine, rolling her neck slightly as she places the bottle back in Dave’s fridge, mentally preparing herself to slap a smile back on her face and rejoin the merriment in the next room. Pasta nights had become a staple in their lives, something that the team had as often as they could. Usually, she was grateful for it, for the distraction, but right now all she wanted to do was wallow in her misery.

“Em?”

She turns to see JJ walking towards her, an empty glass in her hand, “Sorry,” she says, pulling the bottle back out of the fridge, “I should have asked if you wanted something.”

JJ shakes her head and hands her the glass, “No need to apologise,” she says, and Emily can feel her staring at her. She turns and smiles at her friend as she passes her back the now full wine glass, “I thought you were off alcohol.”

Emily smiles tightly at the tone of her friend's voice, the gentle push to it. She knows JJ would accept any answer, that she’d let her wave it off if she wanted to, but she finds herself sighing, her hip against the counter as she takes a sip of her wine.

“I am, mostly,” she says, her smile turning sad, “No need to be for the next few days though,” she shrugs, “I’m definitely not pregnant, so I thought I’d indulge myself.”

It was slowly becoming a custom of hers, a glass of wine or scotch when she got her period. The rest of the time she avoided drinking, a measure she took just in case.

“Oh, Em-”

“It’s fine,” she says, waving off the sympathy she doesn’t want to hear, sure it will somehow mean there was something that was wrong, “I know it hasn’t even been that long. My OBGYN said it could take a while. I just…” she shakes her head at herself and clears her throat, “I just want it so much.”

JJ nods and places her hand on Emily’s arm and squeezes gently, “Have you spoken to Hotch about this?”

Emily sighs, “Yes and no,” she says, blowing out a breath as she thinks of how he’d hugged her tightly in their bathroom just a few days ago when her period started, his lips against her forehead as he told her it would be okay, “It just feels like so much pressure. Sex is already starting to feel a little…regimented. Like there is no spontaneity.”

Their sex life had always been healthy. They never seemed to tire of each other, and their need for each other hadn’t faded as they moved from a new couple to a long-term relationship to husband and wife. If anything, as time went on she found she wanted him more, something she knew was reciprocated. Something about their life together, about the way they loved each other, making the sex even better than it had ever been.

She’s pulled out of her thoughts by a crashing sound that sounds like it’s coming from the living room, and she shakes her head, smiling briefly at the thought of Derek and Spencer once again breaking some of Dave’s belongings.

“Don’t get me wrong,” Emily says, taking another sip of her wine, “It’s still incredible, Aaron has never…” She smiles as she clears her throat, well aware her husband wouldn’t thank her for divulging too much, “Let’s just say he’s never let me down.”

JJ raises an eyebrow, “Never?”

Emily smiles, “Never,” she confirms, and her smile slips slightly as she shrugs, “I think I just miss how it was before we were doing it on specific days because a stick I peed on tells me it’s the best day to try.”

JJ squeezes her arm again and smiles reassuringly, “You’ll get there, Em.”

Emily nods, wishing she could share in her friend's optimism, “Yeah. We’ll get there.”

___

Aaron was worried about his wife.

He’d watched as she got increasingly disappointed over the last few months. He’d felt her hugs get tighter, more desperate when he’d try to comfort her as she threw a negative pregnancy test into the trash.

The most recent time had only been a few days ago, and he could still see the tension in her shoulders. He’d tried to get them out of going to Dave’s, offering to make it his fault they weren’t going so she wouldn’t have to explain anything, but she’d shaken him off. Insistent that it was easier to go along and pretend everything was okay.

He’d offered to get her drink for her once she’d finished her wine, but she’d smiled at him and said she was fine and she went herself. Her hand briefly squeezing his before she let go. He watches the time and he starts to worry when she’s gone for longer than expected. He makes his excuses as he leaves the room, desperate to seek her out. To provide whatever comfort he can.

As he gets closer to the kitchen he hears his wife's voice, the way she sighs as she speaks. “I know it hasn’t even been that long. My OBGYN said it could take a while. I just…I just want it so much.”

He comes to a stop, frozen in place by how sad she sounds. He knows she’s been struggling more than she would admit. Her disappointment internalised, pointed inwards as if she had done something wrong, a thought he couldn’t seem to free her from no matter how much he tried.

“Have you spoken to Hotch about this?” JJ asks, and he suddenly feels bad for listening, but finds himself unable to move, wanting desperately to know what Emily was going to say so he could help.

Emily sighs, “Yes and no. It just feels like so much pressure. Sex is already starting to feel a little…regimented. Like there is no spontaneity.”

It feels like a punch to the gut, guilt he wasn’t expecting almost knocking him breathless as he takes a step backwards, almost knocking a framed photo from the wall. The sound of it hitting the wall as he rescues it spurs him into action, his body finally moving as he walks away to give his wife and their friend some privacy.

As he walks back to the living room he starts to formulate a plan in his head. He might not be able to fix it all for her, but he could certainly make some things better.

And he’d start with date night.

___

Emily lets out a slow breath as she walks into her house, tension seeping out of her shoulders the moment she’s over the threshold. The peace she found here, the first place that had ever felt like home, unmatched.

She shrugs off her coat and kicks off her shoes. She yawns and rolls her shoulders as she does so it’s only when she hears the familiar click in her joint, how loud it echoes around her, she realises how quiet the house is. It was unusual, the halls usually filled with Jack’s laughter or his favourite TV show. She frowns, she knew Aaron was home because he’d seen his car in the driveway. She steps further into the house and calls out.

“Aaron, honey?”

“In the dining room.”

She smiles as she follows his voice, “Where’s Jack, it’s so…” She drifts off as she walks into the dining room, her words stolen as she looks at the set-up in the dining room.

The table was set for dinner for two, the smell of her favourite meal in the air. There were candles in the middle, and a vase with a bunch of wildflowers, the lights in the room dimmed so the candles flickered across the walls. She smiles as she looks at her husband, dressed casually in a polo shirt and a pair of jeans, a far cry from the suit she’d seen him in just a couple of hours ago.

“What’s all this?” She asks as she walks over to him, her hands skimming his waist as she wraps her arms around him. He smiles softly as he stamps a kiss on her lips.

“Date night,” he answers as if it was obvious, pulling her close. He runs his hands up and down her back, “Jack is with Jessica for the night,” he says, kissing her cheek and then her lips again, “It’s just us.”

She smiles and leans in closer, soaking up the warmth and comfort only he could provide, “You know,” she says softly, biting the inside of her cheek, “I’m your wife now, you don’t have to try to impress me anymore.”

He frowns, furrowing his brows at her, “Of course I do,” he says, kissing her once more before he leads her to her chair, pulling it back for her so she can sit down at the space he’d set. He kisses her shoulder before he stands up straight, “I’ll never stop dating you.”

She shakes her head at him as he sits down and narrows her eyes, “I’m assuming all of this is why JJ insisted I went for coffee for her after work?”

Aaron nods, “I may have asked for her help.”

She hums before she leans in to kiss his cheek, “You’re sweet.”

They sit and enjoy their dinner, talking about anything and everything as they eat. She feels the tension that had been building in her chest ease a little, the pressure she was putting on herself lifting as she simply spent some time with her husband. Eventually, once their food has settled down and the candles have almost burnt out, he reaches for her hand and guides her to stand. He kisses her, stealing the breath from her lungs and she sighs, burying her hand in his hair, scratching at his scalp as she holds him close. He smiles as he breaks the kiss, pulling away just enough that he can link his fingers through hers, gently tugging to guide her away from the dining room table.

“Wait,” she says gently, coming to a stop, “The dishes.”

He cups her cheek and kisses her again, “I’ll do them later.”

He leans down and blows out the candles before he leads her out of the room. He’s insistent as they make it up the stairs, his hands on her hips and his lips on her neck, nipping and licking at her skin, drawing out moans she couldn’t control if she wanted to.

As soon as they are in their bedroom he turns her, his lips against hers as he leads her to their bed. She sighs as he lowers her onto the bed, his weight against her all too briefly before he pulls away, putting space between them as he unbuttons her pants, tugging them down her legs, taking them and her socks off all at once. She pushes herself up on the bed, resting on her elbows as she looks at him, her teeth sinking into her lower lip as he kneels on the floor at the end of the bed.

He presses a kiss to one of her ankles, groaning at the softness of her skin against his lips, something he still wasn’t used to after all this time. He works his way up her leg, pressing kisses to her skin as he goes, maintaining eye contact with her, watching as her breath catches in her chest as he reaches her thigh. He kisses a bruise he’d left days ago, licking against his fingerprints, proof that she belonged to him.

She fists her hands in the sheets beneath her as he licks her through her underwear, groaning at the taste of her through the cotton barrier.

“So good, sweetheart,” he mutters as he pulls away, leaning back in for a moment to breathe her in, wanting nothing more than to get lost in the feel of her, “So fucking good.”

She lifts her hips as he pulls her underwear down her legs and she takes the chance to pull off her shirt and bra, unceremoniously throwing them somewhere into the corner of the room. She squeals, something she would deny later, when he pulls her further down the bed by her ankles, settling her legs over his shoulders as he knelt back down on the floor.

He ignores the ache in his knees, the pain he knows he’ll feel tomorrow, because he just wants his. Her. A moment between the two of them that was about nothing other than them.

They let out simultaneous moans as he licks through her, tasting her directly from the source as he dips his tongue into her. She rolls her hips at his face, her eyes flickering closed as everything except him and the way he was making her feel disappears. She lets him build her up, none of her usual impatience anywhere to be found. He pulls her apart with his tongue and his fingers like he’d written the manual for her body, something he’d been able to do since the very first night they’d spent together.

She didn’t believe in soulmates, the thought that there was just one person out there for everyone ridiculous, but if she did, she knew he’d be hers. In the moments when she let herself get carried away by it all, by the way he made her feel, she thinks this was what everything in her life had been leading to. Every bump in the road, every crack she’d fallen down and had to climb back out of had been part of her journey to this. To him. To the life they had together.

He presses his hand onto her lower belly, keeping her hips in place, as she comes. She moans as it washes over her, her entire body on fire as she tips over the edge. For a moment, she loses her ability to think and when she opens her eyes he’s looking at her, unadulterated affection in his eyes.

“What?” She asks, her voice breathless, and he smiles as he gently lowers her legs down off of his shoulders, her calves shaking as her feet hit the floor.

“Nothing,” he says, leaning forward to kiss her, pressing the taste of herself onto her lips, “You’re beautiful.”

She smiles, chasing his kiss before she reaches for his belt buckle, but he stands back, putting space between them as he quickly undresses himself, “What?”

He smiles as she repeats herself, seemingly only capable of one word at the moment, and he steps out of his pants and throws his polo shirt over his shoulder.

“Tonight,” he says as he encourages her further up the bed, laying on top of her as she widens her legs, letting him settle between her thighs as he kisses up her chest, “Is all about you.”

She doesn’t have a chance to argue with him, to ask what he means, because he steals the breath from her again as he licks over her already hardened nipple, laving at it until she’s sore, squirming beneath him as he switches his attention to her other breast.

“Aaron,” she mutters, hooking a leg around him, her heel against his ass as she tries to encourage him to stop teasing her, “Please.”

He smirks against her skin, licking the sweat from her collarbone before he carries on moving upwards, switching between kissing and gently biting her throat and then jaw. When he kisses her, his lips stamped against hers, it’s softer than she’s expecting. She cups the back of his hand and holds him in place, rolling her hips up against his, making them both moan as he notches against her.

She reaches between them with her spare hand, smirking into their kiss when he groans as she pumps him up and down a couple of times before she guides him into her. They both moan at the familiar stretch, pressing their foreheads together as his hips meet hers, their skin slapping together in the otherwise quiet room.

“Sweetheart,” he mutters, his breath skipping across her skin, “You feel so good,” he says, kissing every part of her he can reach. Her nose, her cheek, her lips, “So good and all mine.”

“All yours,” she says, rolling her hips against him again, a silent request for him to move, something he does immediately, “All yours.”

She knows that no matter how many times they do this, it is still as amazing as the first time, if not more incredible. It was familiar but not in a way that was boring, but in a way that felt like coming home at the end of a long day. A comfort she can’t believe she ever lived without.

Something she didn’t want to lose, ever. No matter where life takes them.

They match each other’s rhythm, their hands linked on the bed next to her head, their foreheads pressed together as they look at each other. As connected as two people could ever be, physically and emotionally. He feels her tighten around him, her thighs twitching at his hips, and he reaches between them to circle her clit, wanting nothing more than to make her feel good.

She comes, her vision going dark as she tips over the edge, and she pulls him in for a kiss. She smiles against his lips as she feels his hips jerk against her, and she encourages him to move off of her, shifting onto shaky arms and legs as she flips over, looking at him over her shoulder, her smile turning into a smirk.

He kneels behind her, the sight of her like this, ready and waiting in front of him, enough to make him lose his mind. He leans down and licks through her from behind, smiling when she gasps in surprise, looking at him again with a look in her eyes that he could only call feral. He rests his hands on her hips and pushes into her again, groaning at the feeling of her around him, at the way she immediately clenches.

She moans loudly, her body sensitive but desperate for more as she pushes back, desperate for the stretch of him that feels impossibly bigger from this angle. She lets him set the pace, harder than it had been already that evening, and she moans, never having really had the chance to recover from her previous orgasms.

He pulls her upright, his arms around her middle as he holds her in place, thrusting up into her in a way that steals the breath from her lungs. She lets out a strangled noise, turning her head to bury her face in his neck, unable to do anything other than roll her hips against his, gasping with every thrust he pushed up into her, carving a space inside of her only he’d ever been able to reach.

“Aaron,” she says, his name catching in her throat, “I…”

“Are you going to come again for me?” He asks, his voice rough, an indication he is close too. Her only answer is a nod, her forehead pressing into his cheek, and he reaches for her clit, careful as he gently rubs circles on her swollen skin.

“Fuck,” she moans, her hips stuttering as she rushes towards the edge again, every nerve ending in her body on fire.

He tips over the edge with her this time, spilling deep inside of her as they both come, the only sound left in the room their heavy breathing. He places his hand on her cheek, his fingers slippery with her and pulls her into a kiss.

“I love you,” she says, her lips barely away from his, her words skipping over his skin.

“I love you too,” he replies, kissing her once more before he encourages her to sit up just enough that he can slip out from under her. He kisses her forehead as he stands, “I’ll be right back.”

She nods as she flops back onto the bed, still trying to catch her breath as she looks up at the ceiling. She smiles at him when he walks back into the bedroom with a towel, cleaning them both up before he disposes of it in the hamper in the corner of the room and joins her on the bed, shifting them both to the top so he can pull the covers over them.

She curls into his side, resting her head on his chest as he pulls her as close as possible. She reaches for his hand and links their fingers together, smiling at the sight of his ring on his finger, memories of the day she’d slipped it on flooding back. She bites her lip as she thinks of the promises they’d made each other that day, of the excited undertones to everything they said as they both thought of the future they were planning.

She sighs as she tilts her head to look up at him, “Did JJ say something to you?” She asks, making sure her voice is even so he knows she’s not mad, “Is that why you planned tonight?”

He smiles down at her and runs his hand up and down her back, “No,” he says, kissing her forehead, “No I…I overheard you talking to her at Dave’s a couple of weeks ago,” he admits, smiling tightly at her, “I didn’t mean to, but I did and I heard you say you missed the spontaneity, so I wanted to give you some.”

She smiles, unable to hold it back as she sits up just enough to rest her arms on his chest, “Wait a minute, you overheard me saying I missed the spontaneous side of our sex life, so you spent two weeks meticulously planning a date night right down to the detail of having my best friend distract me whilst you set it up?”

He frowns, his cheeks burning with embarrassment at the amused look on her face, “Well,” he clears his throat, “When you put it like that-”

She cuts him off with a kiss, her lips firm against his before she pulls back, “I love you so much. You’re…” she trails off as she shakes her head, lost for words, “You’re the best man I’ve ever met.”

“I love you,” he says, pushing her hair from her face and tucking it behind her ear, “And that isn’t dependant on anything. It’s unconditional. I’ll love you no matter what.”

She hears what he hasn’t said. That he’d love her if they had a dozen children or if it was just them and Jack for the rest of their lives. She hadn’t realised how much she’d needed the reassurance, the doubt and everything else had that slowly crept in over the last few months never too far away.

She doesn’t want to lose this moment to it, to let it be marred, so she smiles and nods, resting her head back on his shoulder.

“Right back at you.”

___

9 Months Later

It was starting to get to her.

She groans as she tries to get comfortable but gives up almost immediately, well aware it is a lost cause.

“Your days in there are numbered, sweet girl,” she grumbles, rubbing her hand over her bump, her skin stretched almost to its limit over her daughter, “Consider this your eviction notice.”

She smiles as she feels a kick that almost feels like a response, the sass their little girl had seemed to have from the very start, something Aaron said she’d inherited from her, making itself known. There were still moments, no matter how massive and uncomfortable she felt, when she still couldn’t believe that this was real, that she was days away from having a baby. The baby she’d half convinced herself she’d never have.

Emily smiles as she hears the front door open quickly followed by her husband's voice, “Sweetheart?”

“In the living room,” she calls back, “Right where I was when you left this morning.”

He laughs and walks to the living room, his smile only getting wider when he sees her on the couch, one of his old shirts stretched over her belly, “There are my girls.”

Emily hums as he kisses the top of her head before sitting next to her, his arm immediately around her, “How was work?”

“It was fine,” he replies, placing his hand on her bump, “The team miss you. How are you?”

She groans as she rests her head on his shoulder, “The usual mat leave crap. Heartburn, swollen ankles, tears and the odd practice contraction.”

He kisses the side of her head again, “You won’t believe the number of routes I have planned to get us to the hospital when you go into labour. I have every eventuality planned for.”

She can’t help but smile, a joke that had formed between them months ago on the night she’s sure they conceived their daughter already on the tip of her tongue.

“What, you’re not going to be spontaneous? That’s so unlike you.”

He sighs and shakes his head at her, the glint in his eyes letting her know he was suppressing a smile, “You’re never going to let that go are you?”

She chuckles, “Absolutely not.”

“You’re lucky I love you.”

She leans in and kisses him, her hand on his cheek as she pulls away, “I really am.”

-x-

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