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hotchscoffeecup · 11 months ago

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“Power Struggle”

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner/Reader

Rating: M

Category: Angst, Hurt/Comfort

Word Count: 7.2k

Summary: For months, you and SSA Aaron Hotchner have been toeing the boundary between romance and your careers. When the unsub that's been killing women in Michigan by way of replicating Zeus' punishments from Greek mythology takes you as his next victim, it's up to Hotch and the rest of the BAU team to find you before it's too late. Hurt/comfort and angst with happy ending.

Tags: graphic depictions of violence, reader kidnapped by unsub, blood, implied SA, nudity, electrocution, scarring, hospitals

“You’re telling me someone is out here killing people to recreate, what? Greek legends?” Sheriff McCullen’s brow pinches as he shakes his head.

“Legends are stories often loosely based on a real person or event to teach us a lesson. Mythology is based on supernatural or sacred lore and explains why things came to be. It’s a common mistake.” Reid speaks quickly and methodically, as if reciting from a textbook. “It’s straight out of the mythos,” he explains, his voice tinged with something akin to excitement as he approaches the whiteboard where photos of the victims had been pinned up for review. Using a ballpoint pen as a pointer, he taps the first image of the first victim. “Regina Manford, she was found tied to a boulder in Craig Lake State Park with her liver removed. Animal predation showed birds had pecked at her while she was still alive. In Greek mythology, Zeus did this to Prometheus to exact revenge on him after he stole fire to give to man.”

Reid moves on to the next victim, bouncing on the balls of his feet as he did so. “Sarah Walters was found bound to an old water wheel that had been set on fire. Greek Mythology suggests this is a copy of Zeus’ punishment for Ixion.”

“And what did he do to deserve that?” asks the sheriff.

Reid’s lips form a tight line. “He was invited into Zeus’ home on Olympus. After attempting to seduce his wife, Hera, Zeus punished him by binding him to a wheel of fire cursed to spin forever toward the underworld. She might’ve smiled or even looked at him, and in his delusion believed she was a seductress deserving of punishment.”

“So, what? This guy sees himself as some sort of god?”

“We believe that is his delusion, yes,” answers Emily. “Each victim also bore signs of sexual trauma, this is something Zeus is also renowned for in the mythology. Our unsub thinks he’s infallible and that these women’s lives and deciding when and how these women live and die is his divine right.”

“Do we know if there will be more victims?” asks one of the detectives.

You step forward from your place between Morgan and Hotchner. “Given the number of victims Zeus punished within the mythology, we can assume he is not finished. These kills are two weeks apart. It’s been twelve days since the last body was found. We can only assume he’s currently hunting for his next victim. And when he finds one, he convinces her to go to a second location. It's once they leave the primary location that he attacks. In each case, the victim suffered a blow to the head, leaving a uniquely shaped gash in her forehead. This suggests that he strikes them with a distinct blunt object or even a ring that’s on his hand.”

“We need every man out on the streets,” Hotch states, his eyes hard as he scans the group of law enforcement gathered to receive the profile. “He stalks his victims in the city, often on the weekends when night life is busiest. He’s charming. He has no problem approaching women because he views himself as a deity and carries himself with the arrogance and confidence of one. He’s white, in his early to mid 30s, good looking, charming, and likely has a career that would’ve provided him with medical training.”

A female detective with short blonde hair sticks her pencil in the air. “How do we know that?”

“The incisions made on Regina’s body were clean, precise, and showed no signs of hesitation,” explains Rossi. “The M.E. also informed us that the hepatic artery was clamped off, meaning,” Rossi hesitates before continuing on, “meaning Regina Mansford was alive as her liver was being cut from her body.”

An uncomfortable murmuring breaks out. Hotch raises a hand, silencing them. Your mouth goes dry and you swallow, hoping your team doesn’t notice the way your eyes dilate when you look at him and the silent way in which he can command a room.

“This is why we need every available officer on the streets. Increase units in the downtown area. Have plain clothes officers on the streets. That’s where we’ll be. Thank you.” Hotch tucks his head and sweeps out of the bullpen, the rest of the team trailing after him into the conference room.

“Where do you want us?” asks Morgan as you shut the door to the conference room.

“Reid, I want you here working the geographical profile. See if there’s anything we missed that could bring us closer to a precise location where he’s kidnapping his victims. Rossi and JJ, I want you to go back to Sarah’s apartment and see if we missed anything that tells us where she was exactly on the night she was kidnapped. Derek and Emily take the north side of downtown.” He inclines his head toward you. “You and I will take the south side.”

His eyes linger on yours a moment longer than they ought to have. You dip your head and swiftly exit the room, jacket in hand as you prepare to brave not only the frigid Michigan cold but working one one-on-one with Hotch. This had been going on for months; subtle looks, brief touches where his fingers would slide over yours while passing off a case file…yet a part of you still wasn’t sure if it would ever go any further than that. You spend so much of your time with the team, it would be so easy to mistake one gesture for something that it wasn’t. Yet you knew that wasn’t true. You know behavior. You’re trained to recognize the subtlest of shifts in demeanor and body language and you know exactly what is going on.

You jump as someone pushes through the front door of the precinct. Emily’s gentle laugh disrupts your rumination. “Sorry,” she says, “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

She moves to stand closer to you as she zips her jacket. “The guys went to grab the cars.”

You nod and shove your hands in your pockets.

Emily arches a perfectly manicured brow. “What’s up?”

You school your expression and feign nonchalance. “Nothing, I just want to catch this guy before he hurts anyone else.”

Emily’s brow furrows and then straightens, a glimmer of knowing in her eye. “Something tells me there’s a different guy on your mind.”

Your heart skips a beat and you nearly choke on the crisp winter air. “What? I don’t—“ Your words falter as Derek and Hotch arrive, the SUVs humming to a gentle stop at the curb.

Emily eyes you, a sly smile curving one side of her red lips. “We’ll talk later.” She winks and steps forward to open the passenger side door, sliding inside and disappearing into the dark interior.

As you turn to move toward the SUV, Hotch is there, opening the door for you. The gesture surprises you, but it shouldn’t. He’d been doing little things like this for weeks now. You nod your head in thanks and as you turn your body to slide past him, his hand catches your hip. Your breath hitches in your throat as his fingers glide against the small of your back, guiding your movement into the vehicle.

His hard eyes meet yours as he shuts the door and you’re grateful for the shadows inside the car as you feel your face flush bright red. Hotch slides into the driver’s seat with ease. He shifts the car into gear and pulls onto the road, heading in the direction of downtown.

After a few minutes, you open your mouth to disrupt the silence, but his cell rings. Hotch answers and places it on speaker as JJ’s voice floats through the receiver, “Hotch, we think we’ve got something at Sarah Walters apartment.”

“What’s that?” you ask.

“There’s a sticky note in her trash can,” a garbled sound echoes through the speaker as she shifts the phone. The sound of paper crinkles as she reads, “Tony’s at 9, does that mean anything? Has Garcia come across a Tony in any of her research into the victims’ lives? Maybe an Anthony?”

An image of a neon sign flashes across your mind’s eye. “It’s a bar,” you say matter-of-factly.

“A bar?”

“I remember seeing the sign on our drive-in. It’s a bar on the south side of downtown. That could be where he’s meeting these women.”

“We’re only a few blocks away, we’ll head there now. Thank you, JJ.” He hangs up and slips the phone into his jacket pocket.

“How do you want to play this?” you ask.

“We go in, make observations, see if we can identify anyone that matches the profile.”

You smirk and a small laugh escapes your lips.

“Something funny?” Hotch asks, his voice low in his throat.

You purse your lips, pausing before you proceed. “If we go in looking like feds, we’ll scare this guy away.” You tilt your head, considering. “Well, one of us anyway.”

A slight twitch in his brow is the only indication your words have just barely gotten under his skin. “Touched a nerve, sir?”

As the traffic light ahead blinks red, he eases the car to a stop. He breathes out slowly, the amber glow of the stoplight reflecting in his eyes. In less than two heartbeats, he thrusts the car into park and with both hands clasps your face, drawing you in to kiss you with such fervor white spots dot your vision. It takes a moment to process the heat of his mouth on yours and the way his tongue slides between your lips, and before you can truly reciprocate the light turns green and he pulls back, his breathing ragged against your mouth as his forehead touches yours. “Be careful when and how you choose to call me sir.”

Before you can exhale, his eyes are on the road again and you’re driving deeper into downtown.

“Understood,” and then you add, almost imperceptibly, “sir.”

A small smile quirks at the corner of his lips, but he says nothing more as you approach your destination.

It's nearing 9:30pm when you pull up on the street parallel to Tony’s. People trickle in and out of the bar in groups of twos and threes; most are young, in their mid to late twenties.

“Right,” you say as you unbuckle your seatbelt and turn to exit the vehicle. “Stay here.”

“Excuse me?” Hotch asks, reaching over your lap and grabbing your wrist to stay your hand from popping the door open. Your breathing stills and he just barely turns his face toward yours. “Since when do you give me orders?”

Unsure where the confidence to challenge him comes from, you lean in near his ear. You swallow once before speaking. “I think you like taking them.” Feeling incredibly brazen, you nip at his ear once and as the unexpected gesture disarms him; flick your wrist out of his grasp and pop the door open. You slide out of the car and are immediately greeted by the frigid January air eliciting goosebumps up and down your arms. Extending an arm overhead to hang on to the frame of the SUV; you lean down into the cab of the vehicle. “I’ve got you right here,” you say as you tap the hidden earpiece. “Let me know if you see anyone from the outside that fits the profile.”

Hotch eyes you and there’s a fierceness in his gaze. You wonder if he’s thinking of how he’ll ultimately retaliate for your little role reversal now that he’s gone and upped the ante in this little game of cat and mouse. “See you soon,” you wink and slam the door shut.

As you approach the bar, you make sure your coat is buttoned in a way that hides your sidearm and credentials from sight. The bouncer doesn’t even pretend to ask for an ID as you approach and move through the front door with ease. As you cross through the threshold, your senses are assaulted by the smell of beer on tap, the sharp tang of liquor, grease, and an amalgamation of perfumes and colognes.

Immediately you begin scanning the room. You note the layout of the bar: three exits for patrons, the one you just came in through, one near the bathrooms for cigarette smokers, and an emergency exit on the far right wall near to the kitchen. There are three pool tables all of which are occupied as well as three dart boards along the far wall. Groups of friends engage one another and dates carry on without a hitch. You approach the bar, which is centered along the far wall. Stools line the high countertop and behind the bar, two women work to fulfill the never-ending drink orders. You approach the bar and slide into one of the empty seats, relaxing your shoulders as you do so, and order a rum and coke that you don’t plan on drinking.

After a moment the bartender drops a cocktail napkin in front of you and places the drink on top. You thank her and stir the contents of the drink with the swizzle stick popped inside.

“Is this seat taken?” an unfamiliar voice causes the hair on the back of your neck to prickle and you know immediately that it’s him.

Painting on a saccharine sweet smile, you turn toward the voice. A white man, standing at about 6’2”, is smiling down at you. The neon lights behind the bar reflect in his blue-gray eyes and his honey blonde hair falls in soft waves to his shoulders. “Please,” you say demurely and gesture toward the seat. You tell him your name and continue smiling.

“Ronan Carlson,” he introduces himself as he slides in beside you and adjusts the lapels on his leather jacket, a fake Rolex peeking out from his sleeve. He’s preening, you think to yourself. The bartender approaches from behind the bar and he smiles, the curve of his lips the opening act of his charming performance. “I’ll have what she’s having, thank you.” He pulls a roll of cash from the inner pocket of his jacket, flips through several bills, and pulls a $100 bill free before sliding it across the counter to her.

The bartender’s eyes widen in surprise and he winks at her. She nods her thanks and turns to make his drink.

“That was very kind of you,” I say, stirring my drink for the thirteenth time.

He shrugs and tips the baseball cap he’s wearing down over his eyes and you know it’s to obstruct the view the cameras have of him. “It’s only money, and I think I may have made her night.” He inclines his head toward the bartender whose head is bent close to the other woman’s. She’s smiling wide and shows her the $100 bill.

Internally, you roll your eyes hard, but externally you smile and look at him from beneath your lashes. “You must have a great job, what do you do for work?”

His hand flexes as he sets his drink down on the counter and you note the two chunky platinum rings he wears on his right hand. There are symbols etched into them offset by different colored stones, but you don’t want him to catch you staring as he answers, “I’m in business for myself these days,” he says with no further explanation. “Though I used to be in the military.”

You feign surprise, though you were hopeful he’d continue to divulge information. “The military, wow. Let me guess,” you pause and allow your eyes to slowly scan him from head to toe. You remember the profile. “Army…medic.”

“Reign it in,” you hear Hotchner’s voice through the earpiece. “Be mindful of how much you reveal to him. Don’t let him know you know more about him than he’s letting on.”

You watch him assess you and your read into him. One blonde brow creeps up toward his hairline and that wicked smile curves his lips again. “Excellent guess, how do you figure?”

Leaning on to your forearms, you push your drink aside and slide your hand over his and you don’t miss the way his fingers tense at your touch.

“It’s the hands,” you say coyly. “You look like you know how to handle yourself.” He relaxes under your touch and a heat ignites in his eyes that makes your stomach churn, but you don’t let it show on your face. “You look like you know how to handle a lot of things.”

He licks his lips and turns the ring on his finger. “Tell you what,” he says as he picks up his drink. He places the glass to his lips and downs its contents. “Why don’t we get out of here?” He looks down at you from beneath dark lashes. “And I’ll show you just how much I can handle.”

You stand up and flash him a grin. “Let me quickly freshen up and I’ll meet you out front.”

His lips quirk into a smirk, “I’ll meet you in the parking lot.”

You smile as you slip away toward the bathroom. As you push through the crowd you inform Hotch that the unsub is on his way out.

“There’s a line growing out the door,” he answers over the earpiece. “Does the description match the profile?”

“To a T,” you answer as you push past a couple with their tongues in each other's mouths. The amount of patrons has increased dramatically over the last hour. The volume of the music makes it hard to hear through the earpiece. You push your way into the restroom and are surprised to find it empty. Fortunately, the outside noise is muffled. You begin to describe Ronan’s appearance and note the jacket and hat he’s wearing. “He’s wearing two oddly shaped rings,” you add. “I think it’s what’s caused the unusual injury to the victims’ faces.”

“I’ve got him. He’s cutting through the line toward the parking lot.” You hear the car door open and slam.

“Got it, I’ll be right there.”

“Good work,” Hotch says over the open line.

You smile to yourself as you unbutton your jacket, glad to be on the receiving end of his praise. For a split second you wonder what else you could be on the receiving end of if you continue to play this game with him. After the case, you remind yourself. Priorities. Priority number one is getting this sick bastard off the street, and he’s right here within your grasp. You shoulder the door as you reach for your gun, positioning your thumb over the rotating hood to dislodge your weapon from its holster.

Over the speakers, an employee is calling to celebrate someone’s birthday. The crowd is distracted and pushing toward the source of celebration. The bar erupts into an off key rendition of Happy Birthday but you don’t hear it as 30,000 volts of electricity course through your veins. Your muscles spasm and lock up as you fall forward. Pain radiates from your abdomen in waves that crash over you again and again. You try to tell your body what to do as strong arms catch you and pull you into a chest that smells like cigarette smoke, but your limbs don’t cooperate. You feel his nose root into your hair as his lips find your ear. “How’s that for capable?”

As he shoulders your weight and steers you out through the emergency exit you hear Hotch’s voice in your ear. “It’s not him!” There’s an edge of panic in his voice as he says your name. “Do you copy? It’s not him. He gave another man $500 to wear his hat and jacket into the parking lot. It’s not him. Do you have eyes on him?”

Dark spots the edges of your vision as he drags your dead body weight. You try to focus all of your ability on getting out any words that can signal to Hotchner what’s happening, any at all but your mouth feels like it’s filled with cotton.”

You hear the tinkling of keys and a door slide open. Pain rattles through your skull as he throws you into the back of whatever vehicle he’s operating. Pain slices through your wrists as zip ties slice through the skin there. Through tunnel vision you see him leering at you. He’s backlit by the streetlights.

As his fist flies toward you, you finally manage one word.

“Aaron.”

•

When you come to, the first thing you feel before the splitting pain in your head threatens to cleave your mind in two, is cold.

Your mouth is dry, but as you move to lick your lips you realize you can’t because there’s a gag in your mouth. You try to move your hands, but they’re bound too. Zip ties cut into each wrist, securing them at your sides on the legs of a wooden chair. When you try to shift the chair, you learn that it’s bolted to the floor and your legs are spread open; zip ties at your knees and ankles keep them apart. Except for your bra and underwear, you’re naked. He undressed you. You feel the wound from the stun gun before you glance down at your stomach and see the two bloody pinpricks in your abdomen. You feel your heart rate increase as panic begins to set in. Do not panic , you tell yourself as you take a steadying breath. The minute you start to panic, you’re dead. You close your eyes and piece together the last dredges of your memory.

Tony’s. Sitting at the bar. The unsub. Ronan. Hotch was in pursuit. And then there was just pain.

Hotch.

The pain in your skull is overwhelming and you’re not sure if you can feel the earpiece anymore.

“Hotch,” you attempt to say through the gag. “Hotch, do you read me?”

You close your eyes as hot tears brim along your lash line when there’s no response. The signal is out of range or the unsub found the earpiece and removed it.

A door creaks open on squeaky hinges and your eyes dart toward the source of the sound. Ronan walks through the door with a sick smile on his face. As he saunters toward you, he rolls the sleeves of his flannel up to his elbows. Without looking away from you, his arm drops to his side and he scoops a folding metal chair with one hand, carrying it with him as he edges closer to you.

You flinch as he cracks the chair down in front of you, forcing it open. He chuckles as he takes a seat. His eyes skirt the length of your body and you wish any limb were free to deliver a blow to his smug face.

He reaches into his back pocket and withdraws your badge. He flips it open and holds it up to your face, the way his eyes flit between you and your credentials makes your lip curl.

“An FBI agent,” he says slowly. He slaps your credentials shut against his denim-clad thighs. “Hot damn!” he shouts and whoops. He throws your badge to the wayside and it clatters against the cement floor. “I’m going to take my time with you.”

It could’ve been hours. It could’ve been minutes. The torture is unrelenting and the pain is unending. Your chest heaves as you brace yourself for the next surge of electricity. Ronan, if that’s even his real name, twists the knob on the amplifier and taps the jumper cable clamps in his hands together. He smiles when he hears the buzz of electricity between them. As he presses them into your thighs, you cry out in pain as the shockwaves paralyze your body and mind and the pain overwhelms you.

“YES!” he roars as he pulls them away from you. He’d taken his flannel off, but now he peels off his t-shirt, balls it up, and uses it to wipe the sweat off of his face.

With the voltage no longer coursing through your veins, you slump forward, chest heaving as your scrambled brain fights to stay alert.

He drops the cables and clasps your face in his hand, forcing your chin up to meet his wild eyes. “You just don’t quit, do you? You're special.” He strokes your cheeks with his thumbs as if he cherishes what he’s doing to you. “You are worthy of a god.”

When you come to Ronan is watching you. He’s leaning forward, elbows on his knees, chin resting on his clasped hands.

“She wakes,” he muses.

You glare at him and his brow pinches. He purses his lips together like he’s been stung, but his eyes are alight with amusement.

“You,” he says, gesturing up and down your body, “look beautiful.”

You don’t need to look down to know the number of bloodied burn wounds spanning the lengths of your legs. If you couldn’t keep track of any other thought, the count was all that kept you grounded. There were ten. Five on each leg. Your wrists and ankles bled from the way you’d pulled against them with every shock he delivered.

He reaches forward and this time you don’t flinch. He hooks two fingers into the gag and pulls it down over your chin, his fingers trailing your lips as he does so.

“Here,” he says, bringing a bottle of water to your lips. “Drink.”

You clamp your lips shut and turn your face away. He laughs and shakes his head. “Come on now, don’t refuse me. That’s not how you show gratitude when a god shows you mercy.”

You muster as much hatred into your stare as you focus your attention back on him. “Mercy?” you hiss, and your voice is hoarse from screaming against the gag. It hurts to speak. You pull against your restraints. “This is what you call mercy?”

“I’m only testing you to see if you’re worthy,” he says by way of explanation. "You've lasted longer than the others."

“Worthy of what?” you ask, but you already know the answer.

“To be my Hera.”

“How is what you’re doing to me, what you did to those other women, going to help you find her?”

“They weren’t worthy,” he answered. “They couldn’t take my power like you could, my lightning. They were false. They needed to be punished.”

He leans in, his lips close enough to yours that you can feel his smoky breath on your skin. “But you, you deserve to be rewarded.” Your skin bristles at his words. His lips find your jawline and you grimace as he drags them up the side of your face. When he pulls away, dried blood flakes onto his skin.

“Don’t be afraid,” he soothes as he smoothes your sweat-drenched hair away from your face. “You’ll enjoy it.”

Unable to suffer any more of his poisonous bullshit, you rear your head back and slam it forward. Pain explodes behind your forehead, but it’s worth it to hear the satisfying crunch of his nose breaking. He roars in pain and clutches his bleeding nose. White light blinds you as he backhands you and curses your name. His ring splits the skin of your cheek open. The force of the blow causes you to bite your lip and you feel your teeth cut into the chapped skin there. You spit blood at him, angering him further.

“You are false!” he screams, spittle flying from his mouth as he shoves the gag back into your mouth. “You are not her!” He moves to pick up the jumper cables, twisting the knob of the amplifier all the way up causing the bulbs overhead to flicker. You know this is it. If he touches you with those, it will kill you.

Bracing yourself for the killing blow, you go to the grave knowing you did not give in to this bastard.

It never lands.

Instead, three shots ring out and he’s falling to the floor dead at your feet. As the unsub’s body falls, Hotchner’s frame comes into view and a choked sob escapes your lips. He holsters his weapon and runs to you. Emily and Morgan are right behind him. Morgan passes Hotch a Swiss Army knife from his pocket and he makes quick work of the zip ties binding you to the chair. From the corner of your eye, you see Emily turn off the amplifier and check Ronan’s pulse.

Unable to hold yourself up, you fall forward into his ready arms, letting yours fall over his shoulders. Hotch drops to his knee to support your weight. “You’re okay,” he says as he pulls the gag free from your mouth and you sob into his chest. He smooths your hair back from your face, his eyes assessing the damage done to you. Blood stains his shirt, your blood.

“Morgan, your jacket.” Hotch orders.

Without hesitation, Morgan unfastens his bulletproof vest and unzips his jacket. He passes it to Hotch who drapes it around your shoulders in an attempt to preserve some of your modesty.

“I need a medic!” he shouts before directing his attention back to you.

Your eyes waver as you try to keep them open. You lock in on the depths of his warm brown eyes. “You’re going to be fine,” he says but his voice sounds far away.

“He wanted someone to be his Hera,” you say weakly.

“Don’t worry about that right now,” Hotch soothes.

You swallow and it hurts your throat to do so. Your lips crack open, “You found me.”

Hotch cradles your head against his chest. “Of course I did.”

You wince as the sound of a gurney crashes into the room, the metal wheels squealing as it draws near. Your head swims as you’re swept into the air and laid out on its cushiony bed. A light shines in your eyes and voices are overlapping. Blindly, you use what strength you have left to drop your hand off the side. Unable to focus your attention on where he is, you know he’ll hear you. “Don’t leave me.”

And as you lose consciousness, you feel his hand slip into yours.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

•

A steady beeping fills your ears as you slowly come to. Your eyes feel bruised and you don’t think you have it in you to open them, but you feel something around your wrists and bolt upright. Pain crashes over you in a wave. It was a dream. You’re still bound in that basement. The beeping increases, growing louder and faster. Someone says your name and you feel hands on your shoulders. You try to swing your fist and are surprised when your arm follows through and makes contact with flesh. Did you break through the zip ties? You hear your name again, clearer this time. A man. He’s asking you to stop, to relax.

“It’s me,” he repeats and says your name again. “You’re safe. You’re in the hospital.” He says your name again. “It’s me, it’s Aaron.”

You stop fighting and blink hard. Hotchner’s stern face comes into view, except there’s concern wavering in the depths of his brown eyes. His brow softens as you relax. A small smile turns the corners of his lips. “Hey there,” he says. A nurse rushes into the room and he raises a hand, “We’re fine, here. Thank you.”

The nurse looks at you and you nod. She looks unsure about leaving but ultimately relents. “I’ll let the doctor know you’re awake.”

Aaron cups the back of your head in one of his hands and gently begins to lower you back down onto the pillows behind you. You allow him to guide you and feel the tension ease from your muscles as your back sinks into the surprisingly plush hospital pillow.

As the adrenaline wears off, you’re finally able to take stock of your injuries as the pain quickly makes itself known. You feel your pulse beating in your skull, pounding at your temples, eyebrow, and cheekbone. With shaky fingers, you touch the places where you remember the unsub striking you. You feel a thick bandage taped over your right eyebrow and steri-strips over your cheek. Your lip is swollen from where you bit it.

Bandages encircle your wrists and there’s an IV stuck in your hand. You’ve been dressed in a hospital gown and the sheets are drawn up to your waist covering the burn wounds. You don't have to see them to know how bad they look. The pain is telling enough.

“Is he dead?” you ask, lowering your hand back down to the bed.

Hotch’s lips form a tight line. “Yes.”

You blink back tears as that information sinks in. “Good,” you whisper in a choked voice. You blink and allow your head to loll to the side. A colorful bouquet of roses and carnations dotted with plastic ladybugs and butterflies sits in a clear vase on the side table.

You smile, “Garcia?”

Hotch smiles in turn. “It was tough to convince her to go home and get some sleep, but I promised her I wouldn’t leave you alone. Even then, it was still a hard-fought battle.”

You chuckle and wince as the movement irritates your injuries.

Hotch telegraphs his next move, and you know it’s to avoid startling you. He cups his hand over your uninjured cheek and strokes the skin there with his thumb.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there,” he says, and his voice sounds tired and pained. “I should’ve gone inside with you.”

“Hotch, don’t.” You reach up and wrap your fingers around his wrist. “Don’t do that to yourself. He didn’t know I was with the FBI until after he took me. If you’d been there, he might’ve pegged us as law enforcement and taken off. He might still be out there and we’d be finding another dead woman in a matter of days. You know I’m right.”

Hotch closes his eyes and heaves a heavy sigh. “I could hear you.”

“What?” you whisper. You try to sit up and wince as the movement stings the wounds in your legs and abdomen. Hotch stands and helps adjust the pillows behind your back before sitting back down in the chair at your bedside.

“Not for very long. He drove out of range, but I heard him speaking to you. I heard the blows land. I heard your head smack against the floor when he threw you in the van.” He stops and shakes his head. “I felt so helpless. I was afraid. I couldn’t get to you, just like,” his voice catches in his throat. “just like I couldn’t get to Haley.”

Your heart breaks for him as he speaks. You reach for his hand and take it, squeezing it. “Aaron, you did get to me. You saved my life.”

He clears his throat and swallows. “Yes, but we were almost too late.”

“But you weren’t,” you state, your tone firm. “Aaron, look at me.”

He hesitates and inhales deeply before lifting his gaze to yours. The corners of his eyes soften as he meets yours and you smile. You gently tug his hand, “Come here.”

Hotch glances toward the door and then back at you, “The doctor—“

“Isn’t going to do shit,” you finish. “I’m the one that endured hours of torture. Pretty sure I’m allowed some close comfort.”

He lets out a shallow laugh. “Yes, I suppose you’re right.” Standing, he shrugs out of his suit jacket and drapes it over the back of the chair. With one hand he loosens his tie until he’s able to pull it up and over his head. He tosses it onto the chair and circumnavigates the bed, assessing the best way to join you on the small mattress.

You groan as you slide over. Hotch reaches out to stop you but you silence him with a pointed look. “Mind the IV,” you say as you pat the space beside you.

Hotch acquiesces, using the tips of his fingers to raise the IV drip enough for him to slide into bed beside you. He slips an arm around you and drops the feed. It falls across his torso. The feel of his arm around you is comforting, like a security blanket, like safety. You relax into him, and rest your head on his chest. His lips brush against your bandaged brow.

“Not quite how I imagined we’d first be sharing a bed,” you joke softly as you nuzzle in deeper against the wide plane of his chest.

You feel him smile against your hair. “Only you could joke at a time like this.”

“If I can’t laugh at what’s happened, I’ll never be able to close my eyes at night.”

“Well, if that’s the case.” He rubs the bare skin of your arm in small circles. “I’ll be there until you can.”

You turn your head to look at him then, your heart full. This is happening. His eyes are on yours and you push yourself toward him ever so slightly. He closes the small gap between you and presses his lips to yours. It wasn’t hungry and primal like the kiss in the car. There would be plenty of time for that later. This kiss was light, tender…healing.

“Sir, I’m sorry. I tried to go home, I really did but as soon as I got there I—” Garcia’s voice abruptly cuts off. You look up and her initial look of surprise turns to one of abject joy.

You feel your cheeks flush as Emily and Morgan appear in the doorway behind her. Morgan’s eyes widen and Emily’s brow arches as a smile curves her lips.

“I, uh, brought backup.” Penelope giggles. She remembers she’s holding something. “And cookies! I couldn’t sleep, so I baked. I figured I could bribe you into going home and getting some sleep.” Her words leave her mouth at a mile a minute. “I thought you’d fight me on it, so I brought some muscle.” She gestures with a tilt of her head. “They’re the muscle.”

Morgan exhales and points a finger at you and Hotch. “Can someone explain to me what’s going on here?”

Emily elbows him and he drops his arm. She takes the tray from Garcia and walks it over to the side table where she places it next to the flowers. She winks at you as she turns back to Garcia and Morgan. “It’s about time,” she says.

Penelope laughs as she hooks her arm in Emily’s. “What's it been? Two, three months?”

Morgan guffaws. “Months?”

Penelope pats his face with a ring-adorned hand. “My sweet oblivious profiler. Come on, hot stuff.” She takes him by the hand and leads him from the room. Emily shakes her head and laughs. “Men.”

“Safe to say the team knows.”

Hotch releases a breathy laugh and kisses your forehead again. “I know what will be the first thing on the agenda at tomorrow’s debriefing.”

•

6 weeks. It had been 6 weeks since you’d pressed the elevator button that would bring you back to the office. The weight of your gun feels right where it sits upon your hip, your gait more familiar to you now than when it wasn’t holstered to your side. You nervously adjust the grip on your go bag. You’d packed and repacked it the night before.

This morning as you were getting out of the shower, you stared at yourself in the mirror. Your cheek had healed nicely though the skin on your brow that had been split by the unsub’s ring had scarred, severing the tail end of your eyebrow from the rest of it. The ligature marks around your wrists and ankles had healed and the skin was smooth once more. The stun gun had scarred your abdomen, but all that remained were two purple pinpricks of scar tissue no bigger than the size of an infant’s thumbnail.

Your legs are a different story. The front of your thighs are an array of mottled scar tissue. One burn had gone so deep that they’d needed to graft skin from your calf to salvage it. The wounds no longer hurt physically, but you’d woken up from nightmares on more than one occasion.

You were never alone though. Garcia worked remotely on secure laptops with VPNs as often as she was able. Rossi brought you home-cooked Italian at least twice a week and talked with you over numerous glasses of red wine. Reid brought black-and-white foreign existentialist films that you didn’t understand, but his enthusiasm as he watched made you happy all the same. Emily and Morgan brought coffee and donuts as often as they could and Hotch…if he wasn’t at the office or visiting Jack, he was with you. On several occasions, he brought Jack. Jack would sit on the bed beside you, playing with his toys, narrating the adventures of his action figures as Aaron stood in the doorway, smiling. At night, when you had woken in a cold sweat, Aaron was there with a washcloth to wipe it away. When the bandages had stuck to your burn wounds and it felt like your skin was being peeled apart, he got your pain medicine and helped change the dressings, holding you until the pain had passed.

You blink as the elevator dings, signaling you’ve reached your destination. You take a deep breath and smooth down the front of your blouse as the door opens wide. Everything looks the same, yet everything feels like it's changed as you approach the desk you occupy perpendicular to Emily’s. A smile crosses your lips as you see the Welcome Bac k card on your desk. Two vases of flowers sit behind the card. One is almost exactly like the one from the hospital so you know it’s from Garcia. The other, a bouquet of purple tulips, has a note attached to it. You open the note and read it.

Glad to have you back. Things haven’t been the same around here without you. -AH

Hotch. You should’ve known. You smile and tuck the note into your purse.

“Hey, hey, look who’s finally decided to get her ass back to work.” Morgan’s charming laugh is followed by Emily chastising him.

“Ignore him,” she says as she places a steaming mug of coffee on your desk.

“You’re a godsend,” you say by way of thanks and take a long drink. Two sugars, no milk, just the way you like. “Wow, Emily, that’s perfect. I needed this.”

“How come you don’t remember how I take my coffee?” Morgan asks pointedly.

She shrugs, “Chicks before dicks, Derek.”

You sputter and choke on your coffee.

“Look,” he says as he pats you on the back. “Her first day back and you’re gonna kill her.”

At that moment JJ passes by with a file in hand. She raises it in the air and gestures to the conference room. “We got a case.” She smiles at you warmly. “It’s good to have you back.”

Together, you, Morgan, and Emily enter the conference room where Reid, Hotch, and Rossi have already gathered. Once you’re all sat, JJ begins presenting the case. You review current victims and why the Sacramento Police Department has invited you onto the case

“Sacramento PD is expecting us this afternoon. We’ve got a long flight ahead of us. Wheels up in thirty, understood?”

A chorus of ‘yes sirs’ echo throughout the room. As the team gathers their belongings and moves to leave, you wait for Hotch to catch your eye. You wink at him before mouthing, “Yes, sir.”

1K notes · View notes

coqhee · 4 days ago

Text

﹙✧﹚ YOURS, FOREVER

ALT ✷ all your life sim jake has been by your side forever. but things start to shift when all of a sudden time gets in between your once inseparable bond ∘ ∘ ∘ more

심재윤 x f!r ― fluff angst comedy && cursing parental neglect kissing ⨯ 10.4k

em's note ★ ermmm first post in a while how are we feeling!? i've had this idea for a LOOOONG time after watching the kdrama, but it can also double as my entry for @okwonyo's 'la fleur' event and it's loosely based off of family by choice the kdrama cause i love it sososo much. hope you all enjoyed <3

YOU REMEMBER MEETING JAKE THAT ONE FATEFUL DAY when you were six years old, watching him move in with his family.

you ran up to him tugging on his arm, jumping up and down grinning ear to ear to finally have someone in your neighborhood your age. someone who wouldn’t baby you (even though you enjoyed the candy they brought you), someone who could just be a friend and just some adult. someone in that isolating small city in california.

jake had blinked at you, wide-eyed and startled, before breaking into a grin that mirrored your own.

"hi," he had said, a little breathless from hauling moving boxes. "you live here?"

"yep!" you had chirped, still bouncing on the balls of your feet. "my dad and i live on the floor below you! that means we’re neighbors forever now, you’re going to be my best friend."

"forever?" jake had echoed, his brows furrowed confused by your excitement, with a hint of unsurety.

“yeah!”

“he doesn’t want to be friends with you, lets go” his mom stated plainly, tugging on his hand, leading him up the steps of their new apartment and home.

you had stood there, watching as jake was pulled away, the excitement still buzzing in your chest despite his mom’s words.

he doesn’t want to be friends with you.

but you knew better.

because when jake had turned back—just before disappearing through the door—he had looked at you, his lips pressing together like he was holding something back.

and then, just before his mom pulled him inside, he had smiled. small, fleeting, but real.

the next day, you found him waiting outside your door, hands stuffed into the pockets of his too-big hoodie.

“hey,” he mumbled, rocking back on his heels.

you blinked. “hi?”

jake hesitated before glancing around, as if checking to make sure no one was watching. then, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a bag of chips from his hometown, holding it out to you.

“for you,” he said, not quite meeting your eyes.

your childish heart swelled, and without thinking, you grabbed his wrist and pulled him inside.

from that moment on, jake had become a constant in your life.

─── ♡

YOU COULD’VE SWORN JAKE LIVED AT YOUR APARTMENT FLOOR MORE THAN HE DID HIS OWN. not that you minded, and not that his mom noticed, too absorbed in blaming him for everything that had gone on in his life. she figured he was off being a model student.

your dad had taken him in as a son after he cried out to him at night many years ago about how his divorced parents were too busy fighting and forgot to pick him up at school. how his mom threatened to leave the house, and blamed it on him, and he heard it through the door while his parents were fighting again about who got to keep him for the weekend. how he was tormented every single day, coming home to a home where his mom gave him an upset and empty stare.

he had set up the spare guest room as a safe place just for him, cooked warm meals, even paid for schooling activities.

at first, jake had been hesitant to accept it. hesitant to accept love in a way that didn’t feel conditional, hesitant to believe that someone would do something for him without expecting perfection in return.

but your dad never asked for anything. never demanded jake to be better, or to prove his worth. he just... let him be. let him exist in a home where he wasn’t walking on eggshells, where he wasn’t a constant disappointment.

your home had soon become his home, and the apartment floor above where his mom lived became just a visiting place whenever he needed a legal guardian signature for some stupid form.

his mom never seemed to like you for some reason, though you wouldn’t let it bother you. your dad always made sure to let you know that not everyone needs to like you. though, her glaring looks at you throughout the years growing up always irked you.

and little by little, jake allowed himself to settle in.

after a while, his mom ended up leaving him in your dad’s care, occasionally sending checks, occasionally coming back from the east coast to “checking in on her only son” before disappearing again.

but a part of him never stopped looking over his shoulder. never stopped waiting for the moment everything would be ripped away again. and when the moment finally came, neither of you were ready for it.

so there you were on the first day of senior year, tugging jake out of his bed with a grin.

"c’mon, you’re gonna be late,” you whined, yanking at the blankets he had wrapped around himself like a human burrito.

jake groaned, burying his face deeper into the pillow. "five more minutes."

"nope, no more minutes, you’re already pushing it." you tugged harder, finally managing to pull the blanket off, revealing his disheveled hair and squinted eyes.

he let out an exaggerated sigh, rubbing his face before shooting you a glare—one that lacked any real heat. "why are you so chipper this morning?"

you grinned, rocking back on your heels. "because it’s senior year jake. i survived eleven years of this, i’m ready to start a new me and never get pushed around again,"

jake raised a brow at that, finally sitting up. "never get pushed around again? what, are you planning a revolution or something?"

you scoffed, crossing your arms. "no, i just mean i’m done letting people walk all over me. it’s senior year, jake. i refuse to go out being known as the pushover."

he gave you a long look before shaking his head with a small smile. "yeah, sure. just don’t go picking fights you can’t win."

"please," you waved him off. "i don’t pick fights, jake. i just stand up for myself."

but by lunchtime, you were already dangerously close to proving him right.

─── ♡

IT STARTED OUT SIMPLE ENOUGH. just some guy from your history class running his mouth about jake when he wasn’t there to defend himself.

you had passed by the cafeteria when you overheard his name. curiosity had made you pause, but what made you turn around completely was hearing the sneering tone in which it was said.

"he acts like his life's so hard," one of the guys scoffed, shaking his head. "like, you live in the nicest neighborhood here. quit acting like you’re some tragic hero."

another one laughed. "bet he milks that whole oh, i basically live with my friend’s family thing for sympathy points."

your blood boiled. seething with rage. it’s one thing to let people talk shit about you, but about jake was insane to you. jake, the sweetest boy who couldn’t even tattle on a kid who hit him back in elementary school because he was afraid of what would happen to him.

"you don’t know anything about him," you said before you could stop yourself, stepping into their view.

the guys turned, raising their brows at you. "oh? jake’s little guard dog," the first one said, voice dripping with amusement. "should’ve known you’d pop up."

“do not go around talking shit right now about jake,” you turned around, pointing a finger at the one who began. “you don’t know how hard he has it, zip it,”

the second guy scoffed. "please. we all have problems. he just makes his everyone else's."

"he doesn’t—"

"what, you gonna cry about it?" the first guy mocked, stepping closer. "or maybe you’ll go running to him so he can fight your battles?"

by now, a small crowd had started to form, students pausing to watch the scene unfold.

you stood your ground, refusing to back down. "i don’t need anyone to fight my battles."

"then prove it," he challenged, stepping even closer, his tone dropping. "or are you all talk?"

before you could process what was happening, a strong arm suddenly slung over your shoulder, pulling you back slightly.

"man, you guys just love running your mouths, huh?"

your whole body relaxed the moment you recognized the voice.

jake.

he had appeared out of nowhere, his expression calm but his eyes dark with warning.

the guys hesitated, the confidence in their stance faltering just a bit.

"what, cat got your tongue now?" jake said, his voice steady, controlled. but you knew him well enough to hear the sharp edge behind it.

"we were just talking," one of them muttered, suddenly less bold.

jake let out a short, humorless laugh. "yeah? funny how that talking only happens when i’m not around.”

jake turned to you then, his arm still around your shoulder. "what the hell was that?"

"i was just—"

"—picking a fight," he finished for you, raising a brow. "after this morning?"

you huffed. "i wasn’t picking a fight. i was defending you."

he sighed, running a hand through his hair. "you don’t have to do that."

"yes, i do," you shot back. "you always have my back, why can’t i have yours?"

jake stared at you for a long moment before his expression softened. with a small squeeze to your shoulder, he muttered, "next time, wait for me to be there first, yeah?"

and somehow, that sat with you longer than it should have.

─── ♡

LATER THAT FALL IS WHEN COLLEGE APPLICATIONS CAME ABOUT. though, this shouldn’t have been as much of a pain in the ass as it was.

you and jake had already talked about it, planned it out months ago—neither of you were going out of state. you’d stay local, find a school that worked for both of you, and that was that. simple. easy. no unnecessary complications.

except the counselors didn’t seem to get the memo.

“you’re seriously not considering any ivy leagues?” mr. davis, jake’s assigned counselor, asked, staring at him like he’d just committed a crime. “with your grades and extracurriculars, you could easily get into any top-tier school.”

you could see the way jake’s jaw tensed, his fingers tapping against his knee. “i’ve already decided where i want to apply.”

mr. davis sighed, leaning back in his chair. “jake, i get that you want to stay close to home, but you have options.”

you sat beside jake, arms crossed, watching as he nodded along to the same speech he’d already heard at least five times this month.

“is this to do with… her? maybe this is just a conversation we should have. i know she’s here for your comfort, but let’s have a conversation with just the two of us,”

jake's fingers stilled against his knee. his jaw tightened, but his expression remained unreadable. you, on the other hand, felt your own irritation spike.

“i’m here because i care about his choices,” you said, your tone sharper than intended. “and we’ve already had this conversation a hundred times. he’s not changing his mind.”

mr. davis gave you a tight-lipped smile before turning back to jake. “jake, i understand loyalty. but college is about your future. you shouldn’t be limiting yourself for anyone else.”

you opened your mouth to argue, but jake beat you to it.

“this isn’t about anyone else.” his voice was calm, firm, leaving no room for misinterpretation. “this is about me. i know what i want, and i know what makes me happy. i don’t need an ivy league school to prove anything.”

mr. davis sighed, clearly exasperated. “all i ask is that you think about it, at least apply and leave the option open,”

the tension in the room was suffocating, but jake was already heading for the door. you followed without hesitation, not bothering to acknowledge mr. davis as you stepped out.

as soon as you were in the hallway, jake let out a long breath, running a hand through his hair.

“maybe he’s right. just apply, doesn’t mean you have to accept, it can’t hurt right?”

jake shot you a look, his lips pressing into a thin line. "it can hurt," he muttered, rubbing a hand over his face.

you frowned, tilting your head. "how?"

he let out a dry chuckle, leaning against the row of lockers. "because if i apply, you’re gonna be all alone, and you would hate that, i know it."

“besides, you know our college has a med program that’s just fine, and i’ll get a good job and pay your dad back, and make sure he can retire from his restaurant in good condition,” he continued on. you didn’t know what to say. every fiber of you itched for him to stay, but what if you were holding him back despite the teasing in his tone.

you swallowed hard, shifting on your feet. "jake, you don’t owe my dad anything."

he sighed, shaking his head. "i know. but he did so much for me, and i want to make sure he’s taken care of."

your chest tightened at the sincerity in his voice. you had no doubt jake meant every word—he’d always been like this, always putting others first, always thinking about everyone but himself.

“but what about you?” you asked softly. “what do you want?”

he hesitated. "i want to stay." his voice was steady, unwavering. "i want to go to school here, be around the people who matter to me. that’s not me settling, it’s me choosing."

you bit your lip, the weight of his words settling over you. you wanted to believe him. really believe him. but there was still that gnawing feeling in your gut—the fear that maybe, just maybe, you were being selfish for letting him.

"jake…"

he bumped his shoulder against yours, a small grin tugging at his lips. "stop thinking so hard. i already made my choice."

you exhaled, forcing yourself to nod. "okay."

"okay?"

"yeah," you said, more certain this time. "okay."

because if jake was sure, then you would be too.

─── ♡

THE END OF THE FIRST QUARTER SOON AROSE, with exams wrapping up in a hurry, in order to get seniors prepared for their college applications.

the hallways were buzzing with stress—students clutching test papers, muttering formulas under their breath, or frantically comparing essay notes. teachers weren’t any better, pushing deadlines and grading late into the night.

you and jake had slipped into a quiet routine, spending late nights at the library, sharing snacks over half-finished personal statements, and quizzing each other on random trivia. despite the chaos, there was a strange comfort in it—something about knowing you weren’t going through it alone.

“i swear if i have to write one more paragraph about my ‘defining moment in life,’ i’m dropping out,” you muttered, pushing your laptop away and slumping onto the table. “i’m sick of writing scholarship essays,”

for a moment, the two of you sat in silence, the buzz of the library filling the space between you. jake tapped his fingers against the table, staring at his own laptop, before speaking.

“i applied,” he said, voice even.

you blinked, caught off guard. “what?”

“to yale,” he clarified, glancing at you. “figured it couldn’t hurt to have something in my back pocket. though, my mom called last night, she asked about college, for once. told me i should apply just to see”, he took a pause to sip from his can of chilled soda. “my mom said she’d be proud to have a son who went there, and i don’t know, maybe i should just apply to see. ”

and with that your heart sank a little bit. not even to hear that he would consider yale, but to hear him still hoping for his mom’s approval even after the many nights he’d spent under her mental torment.

“though realistically, even if i get in, i don’t think that’d even be good enough. state college is still 1000x better than that rich snobby college. it’s you and me forever, don't worry.”

with that you put together whatever coherent thoughts you had appropriate for the situation and stifled out a laugh, “yea, you’re too good for them anyways, this town needs a doctor that’s as wicked smart as you anyways,”

“what’s your plan after college?”

you stretched your arms above your head, leaning back in your chair with a satisfied sigh. “after college? i’m opening a dessert café.”

jake blinked, caught off guard. “just like that?”

“yep,” you said, popping the ‘p.’ “i’ve thought about it for a while, and honestly, it’s perfect for me. no strict deadlines, no corporate misery—just good vibes, good desserts, and a cozy little place for people to escape for a bit.”

he smirked, sipping his soda. “so, you’re really committing to the soft life, huh?”

“obviously,” you shot back. “why stress myself out when i can spend my days baking cute pastries and making people happy?” you leaned forward, eyes gleaming with excitement. “picture it, jakey. chiclighting, comfy seats, shelves lined with little trinkets and plants. the smell of fresh strawberry chiffon in the air. a menu that changes with the seasons—strawberry shortcakes in the spring, spiced apple tarts in the fall. maybe even special limited-edition desserts for holidays.”

jake chuckled, resting his chin on his palm. “you’ve really thought this through.”

“of course i have.” you grinned. “that’s a real surprise that you have anything planned, even better that you remember it,” he smiled.

“hey! i’m getting better.”

jake gave you a flat look. “you called me yesterday because you thought you left your keys at the library, and they were in your bag.”

“okay, well, no one’s perfect.” you crossed your arms, huffing. “besides, that’s what you’re here for. to keep me from falling apart.”

his teasing expression softened just slightly. “yeah,” he murmured, more to himself than anything. “guess i am.”

the weight of his words lingered for a beat, a quiet understanding hanging between you. but before you could dwell on it, jake suddenly stood up, ruffling your hair in the process.

“c’mon, let’s go,” he said, grabbing his bag. “it’s late, and if you pass out from exhaustion, i’m the one who’s gonna have to carry you home.”

you groaned but followed him anyway, falling into step beside him.

“you wouldn’t actually carry me,” you teased.

“guess we’ll never know,”

you shoved his arm lightly, and he shoved you back, a playful push-and-pull that felt like second nature. and as you walked out of the library together, the world outside dark and quiet, you realized that no matter where the future took you both, jake would always be there.

just like he always had been. forever.

─── ♡

WINTER SOON CAME AROUND, with your birthday always being a prominent date marked on the family calendar with a bright neon pink star surrounding the date each year. jake for some reason always seemed to make it a bigger deal, buying you gifts from his hard earned money from his part time, though you weren’t one to say no to birthday gifts.

the three of you gathered around the family dining table with a homemade cake, filled with joy, always being a fond memory growing up.

winter break soon came, and with that, just like the two of you spent it like you did every break.

by day the two of you were inseparable—wandering through the small town, finding whatever new adventure awaited the two of you. by night, jake was buried in his textbooks, meticulously studying for exams, while you sprawled across his bed, scrolling on your phone or sketching rough ideas for your future café.

he never told you to leave, and you never tried to.

it had become routine—jake staying up until ungodly hours, highlighters scattered across his desk, while you dozed off in his bed like it was your own. and every morning, without fail, he would wake you up with a sigh, nudging your shoulder.

"alright, time to go back to your actual room,” he’d say, pulling the blanket off of you.

you’d groan, burying your face into his pillow. “five more minutes.”

"that’s what you said yesterday, now get off my sheets,” jake grumbled, but there was no real annoyance in his tone—just the usual exasperation laced with something softer.

eventually, he’d give up and let you sleep for a little longer before finally shoving you out with a mutter, “another day of fun awaits, let’s go.”

winter break always felt like a time capsule—like no matter how much things changed, this part of your life never did. it was comforting, knowing that even as college applications loomed over your heads, even as the future felt like a moving target, you still had this.

but then, almost without warning, the last winter break the two of you would spend ended and school started again. occasional three day weeks were spent with the two of you wasting no time, and when valentines day came around, the two of you began your annual tradition of trading homemade chocolates with each other, because really. who else were you gonna spend stupid holidays like this with?

winter melted into spring, and soon enough, april arrived. college decisions had come out, and the marathon of opening your college acceptance letters in one night was fun. the two of your life long plans to go to the same college and even dorm together were finally coming true.

you still had him.

until suddenly, you didn’t.

the news came in the middle of one of your usual nights. jake was at his desk, flipping through notes, and you were curled up on his bed, doodling in the margins of your café concept notebook when his phone rang.

you barely paid attention at first—he got calls sometimes, usually from his dad, sometimes his older relatives. but this time, his whole body tensed when he saw the caller ID.

his mom.

he hesitated before answering, his voice clipped when he said, “hello?”

you couldn’t hear what she was saying, but whatever it was, it wasn’t good. jake’s grip on his pen tightened, his shoulders drawing inward. his responses were short—"okay," "yeah," "I understand"—and you had never seen him look so distant.

when he finally hung up, the silence stretched too long.

"jake?" you sat up, worry creeping into your voice.

he exhaled, staring down at his desk like he was trying to burn a hole through it. “my mom heard that i got into yale and she wants me to move back to east coast, finish high school there. then go to yale,”

the words hung in the air like a slow-building storm.

"what?" you blinked, swinging your legs off the bed. “why—why now?”

jake shook his head, fingers gripping the edge of his desk. "she said it’s time. that i’ve had my fun playing house, but i need to be with my real family now." his voice was tight, bitter, and you knew him well enough to recognize the anger simmering just beneath the surface.

your stomach twisted. "but we are your real family," you said quietly.

he let out a sharp breath, running a hand through his hair. "i know."

“when does she want you to move?”

“end of this month.”

you swallowed when you heard no joke in his tone. you waited, hoping, praying to see him burst out into laughter and say “just kidding,” but there was nothing.

silence settled between you, thick and suffocating. the two of you had spent years carving out a life together, one where he wasn’t just a guest, where your dad never made him feel like he owed anything. but to his mom, it had always been temporary.

─── ♡

YOUR DAD HAD COME TO TERMS that he was basically losing his son. you on the other hand? it was like losing your other half. the other half of what made you, you.

the person by your side through all the trouble you had gotten each other in when you were younger, gone in a snap.

jake put on a smile trying to finish off his last days in california with you, but each night shutting you out so you wouldn’t have to see him packing his belongings, because he knew that would hurt you more than it hurt him.

the morning that he left, you weren’t even awake. you had your alarm for 6am sharp, ready to see him off, but he was gone at 5am. this time protecting himself from hurting more so than you.

you couldn’t lie and say you didn’t feel hurt when you didn’t even get to say goodbye that morning. though you knew you would’ve done the same thing. if you had said goodbye that morning, it would’ve made it all too real. more real than he was willing to accept.

the rest of the school year felt numb without jake. of course you had other friends to hang out with, but it was never quite the same. the only thing keeping you sane were the nightly video calls with him that made it feel like he was still an inch closer home. to your home.

the two of you graduated on your own times, facetiming on the day of since you couldn’t fly to see each others. jake cheering the loudest for you through the phone your dad held up, and you cheering for him through the phone held up by whatever new friends he had managed to make in that time.

in the summer, the two of you made plans to meet up, jake could come back for the summer and spend fleeting time with you, but plans abruptly got shut down when his mom signed him up for yale’s incoming freshman program.

the news hit you like a ton of bricks. you had made so many plans for that summer, imagining long days spent catching up, hanging out in your favorite spots, reliving those memories that felt so far away. but suddenly, those plans felt as fragile as paper, ripped apart by the weight of jake’s mom’s decision.

"she's doing it again," you muttered to yourself, the phone pressed tightly to your ear as jake’s voice crackled on the other end.

"i know," he said, his tone weary, like he had expected this would happen, but still couldn't quite accept it. "i didn't even get a say in it. i was looking forward to coming back, but now it’s like... i don’t even have a choice."

the months that followed were a blur. as fall crept in and the school year started, you found yourself caught in the rhythm of classes, assignments, and all the usual chaos. the early mornings and late nights became a routine—until a message from jake would light up your screen, just enough to remind you that he was still out there, still a part of your world, even if it was through a phone screen.

his texts started off strong, even on your birthday during winter, which was the first time you’d heard from him in what felt like weeks.

“happy birthday, yn!! i hope today’s amazing, even though i’m not there to celebrate with you. i’ll make it up to you when i’m back. promise.”

you smiled at the message, feeling a bittersweet warmth settle in your chest. it wasn’t the same as having him there, but it was something. you knew he was still trying, still holding onto the connection you two had. or at least, that’s what you told yourself.

but as days turned into weeks, the calls grew shorter. the messages were spaced further apart. every time you reached out—asking how he was doing, or if he was settling in okay at yale—his replies became more curt, more distant.

you tried not to think about it too much, tried to keep yourself distracted with school and everything else that came with being a senior. but whenever your phone buzzed, you couldn’t help but hold your breath, half-hoping it was him, half-fearing it was just another empty promise.

it hurt. it really did.

you kept texting him, kept hoping that something would change, that he’d realize how much you missed him, how much you needed him to stay just a little bit closer.

“hi jakey it’s been a hot minute hru?”

he replied after a few hours, as usual.

“yeah, just a lot of work. i’ll text you later.”

you stared at the screen, willing your heart to stop aching. it wasn’t that he didn’t care—it was just that... he wasn’t the same person you used to know. or maybe you weren’t the same person either.

you ran your fingers over the screen and typed out another message, then deleted it, not sure how to even begin anymore. you couldn’t keep chasing someone who was already slipping away, but you weren’t ready to let go either.

as the months faded into each other, you realized you had been holding on to something that wasn’t really there anymore, at least not in the way you had imagined. you weren’t ready to admit it to yourself yet, but the truth was starting to settle in.

maybe some things, like people, just weren’t meant to stay forever.

─── ♡

SOMEWHERE ALONG THE WAY, both of you stopped trying. even the ‘family’ groupchat between your dad, jake, and you went silent. every once in a while your dad would text the groupchat with a random facebook meme essentially saying he missed the two of you, with you ‘haha’ing the message and jake not even responding.

as soon as the school year started, it ended. then summer came about and that’s when jake would text bits and pieces about his life on the opposite coast with his new friends.

when you found out your birthday fell during winter break this year, you were ecstatic. for once, both of your breaks aligned perfectly, and it felt like fate giving you one last chance to reclaim what had been slipping away. you had texted the group chat immediately, excitement buzzing through your fingertips.

your dad had been thrilled, already talking about how he couldn’t wait to see jake again, and for the first time in a long time, jake seemed genuinely excited too.

“booking my flight home i promise i’ll be there”

it felt like a weight had lifted. things weren’t the same, but maybe—just maybe—this would be the thing to bring you back together.

but as the weeks crept closer to winter break, something shifted again.

jake started taking longer to reply. the excitement in his messages dulled. and then, a few days before he was supposed to fly back, you got the text.

"i’m so sorry, yn. something came up, and i don’t think i can make it."

when the day came around, with your dad and you at the now empty family dinner table with a white frosted chiffon cake, candles lit, it somehow felt gloomier. you stared at your phone, waiting for even a text. yet after a few minutes, nothing.

you a wave of tears waiting to form, but you promised yourself yourself cry on your special day. your nose stung, and your throat burned. your dad quickly taking notice and keeping the thoughts away by playing his rendition of happy birthday on the guitar he’d been picking up ever since the two of you had left for college.

a year passed. then two. you sent messages here and there—updates about your life, little things you thought he’d still care about. but replies took days, sometimes weeks. eventually, you stopped trying so hard.

by the third year, you realized you didn’t even know what his life looked like anymore. you weren’t sure what his favorite food was now, if he finished his undergrad like you had or when he had free time, if he ever thought about coming home.

by the fourth, you stopped checking if he had seen your messages. by that time you moved back to your small town and opened that dream dessert cafe at the old building unit that used to house the noodle house you and jake used to always go to.

by the fifth, you didn’t text him at all, though it was easy not too when your days were caught up taking care of the business and catering to the younger generations that would come in to take photos with the constantly rotating seasonal menu.

your dad asked about him sometimes, still talked about jake like he was family, like he would come back one day and things would be the same. you just smiled and nodded, but deep down, you knew the truth.

jake wasn’t coming back. not really.

by the sixth year, the memories of him started to blur. you still thought about him sometimes—when you heard a song that reminded you of those summer nights, when you passed by places you used to go together. but it didn’t hurt the way it used to. it was more like remembering a dream you had a long time ago, one that had faded at the edges.

and by the seventh year, you had phased him out completely.

you didn’t hate him. you weren’t even angry anymore. he had simply become a part of your past—someone you used to know, someone who had meant everything to you once.

but that was a long time ago. and you had learned how to live without him.

─── ♡

“CAREFUL WHEN CLOSING OUT TONIGHT, there’s been some shady white lexus that hangs around at this time, call me if anything happens,” your co-manager giselle calls out as she shuts the door behind her.

it was the fifth year of owning your business and you really couldn’t have been any more proud of yourself. things were falling into place for the business, and you were to beat that five year mark for when small businesses go bankrupt.

you smiled hearing her concern and began prepping the cakes and tarts for the next day.

the quiet hum of the fridge and the soft clatter of trays filled the cozy bakery as you worked, hands moving on autopilot as you piped delicate swirls of frosting onto a batch of cupcakes. the scent of vanilla and caramelized sugar lingered in the air, comforting in a way that reminded you why you had built this place from the ground up.

five years. it still didn’t feel real sometimes.

you had spent so many sleepless nights wondering if you’d make it this far, worrying over finances, suppliers, and keeping up with customer demand. but here you were, not just surviving—thriving.

the quiet of the shop was peaceful, but giselle’s warning echoed in the back of your mind.

a white lexus. hanging around.

you weren’t the type to get easily paranoid, but something about it left a strange feeling in your gut. shaking it off, you turned your focus back to the tray in front of you, finishing up the last batch before stepping back and stretching out your arms.

just as you were about to wipe down the counter, the soft chime of the front door startled you.

you glanced up at the clock—11:15 p.m.

too late for customers.

your heart picked up speed as you reached for the rolling pin beside you, gripping it tightly as footsteps echoed through the shop.

"we’re closed," you called out, keeping your voice steady, though your fingers curled a little tighter around the wooden handle.

the footsteps paused. then, a voice you hadn’t heard in years filled the space.

"yn?"

your breath hitched.

there, standing under the dim glow of the bakery lights, was jake.

older, different, yet somehow still the same.

he looked like a stranger in familiar skin. his hair was slightly longer than you remembered, and he carried himself differently—more put together, but with an air of hesitation, like he wasn’t sure if he belonged here anymore.

his suit, unbuttoned once from the top, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, gave him a polished yet tired look, like he had come straight from a long day of work. but what unsettled you the most was the way his eyes softened when they met yours—like he had been searching for you all this time.

he took a step forward.

“do not take another step closer.”

your voice came out sharper than you intended, laced with a warning that made him halt immediately.

jake’s brows furrowed, confusion flickering across his face. “yn, I just—”

“if you take another step, I’ll file a police report for harassment and stalking. giselle told me about that white lexus and i swear to god if that’s yours i’ll actually just go ahead and file it.”

to say that your dad was very shocked and concerned to be called to the police station by you to watch you attempt to file a police report on the boy he’d once called son was beyond an understatement.

eventually he managed to talk you out of it by bribing you with your favorite homemade meals and a promise to at least hear jake out before making any final decisions.

begrudgingly, you let it go—for now. but that didn’t mean you were going to make it easy for him.

─── ♡

THE WEEK AFTER, YOUR PHONE BUZZED AND YOU picked it up to be met with disappointment.

“i got ur new number from dad, can i come pick you up after your work with dinner? what time do you close at?” the text rang in. you showed it to giselle with a groan,

you showed it to giselle with a groan, setting your phone down on the counter as you wiped your hands on your apron. she glanced at the message, raising an eyebrow as she sipped her coffee.

“that’s… bold,” she said with a half-smirk. “you’ve got to be kidding me. after everything?”

“i really don’t know what he wants now,” you muttered, rubbing your temples. “i should just ignore it, right?”

giselle hesitated before speaking. “i mean… it’s up to you. but i’ll say this—he’s not the same person who left all those years ago. he looks different, talks different. maybe this is his way of trying to make things right. i don’t know.”

“gigi it’s been 7 years. who actually chooses to disappear and reappear after 7 years?” you sigh taking a sip from your hard worked iced apple tea.

“apparently sim jake that’s who. i heard he’s a doctor doing his residency and the hospital nearby. yunjin texted me saying theres a new cutie who transferred into her team,” she hummed pulling up her phone showing a screenshot of jake’s instagram.

“go figure, of course he’s finishing out his dream of being a doctor,” you absentmindedly mumble as you look through his instagram feed from giselle’s phone. and if there’s one thing to take away when looking at it, is that he’s been having one hell of a lot of fun in the years where he never reached out to you.

you stared at his instagram feed, feeling an odd mix of frustration and sadness. his life had clearly moved on in the way he always wanted, but it was like he’d completely forgotten about the part of him that once belonged to you.

you leaned back against the counter, not knowing how to respond. you felt like you had to answer jake's message. you weren’t the same person who would’ve waited around years ago, but still, that old familiarity tugged at you. "i guess i’ll meet him, but definitely not today," you said quietly, more as an attempt to make sense of things than a decision to rekindle anything.

“i close at 7, don’t wait on me”

throughout the day, meeting back up with jake was all that lingered on your mind. meeting up with him after all this time is crazy. it’s been 7 years of him barely contacting you and all of a sudden he wants back in?

after you had closed up shop, you began getting ready for the new day ahead, whipping up the batter for a new set of fresh cakes, preparing fillings, and testing out new drinks recipes.

by the time you finished preparing everything for tomorrow’s orders, the sky outside had grown darker, and you were about to head home for the night. you locked up the bakery and stepped outside into the crisp night air, breathing it in like it might clear your mind.

as you turned the corner, your heart skipped a beat. there, just a few steps away from the entrance, was jake. sitting on the cold concrete outside your bakery. but what struck you most was that he wasn’t just sitting—he was asleep, hunched over with his head resting on his knees, his body curled up against the chill of the night.

your steps faltered, your breath catching in your throat. you didn’t know what to think. part of you felt an irrational rush of concern, but another part of you wanted to shake him awake and ask what the hell he thought he was doing.

you walked closer, your feet moving on their own. when you stopped just a foot away from him, you let out a soft breath, too startled to speak.

jake stirred slightly, his head lifting for a moment before he blinked up at you, eyes half-lidded with sleep.

"jake? what the hell are you doing out here in the cold?" you asked, your voice coming out more accusatory than anything. you hadn’t expected to see him like this. you hadn’t expected anything from him, really.

he yawned sleepily, “i thought you said you closed at 7?”

“yeah and then i have to prepare stuff for the next day, i told you not to wait for me,” you said sternly, though at this point it was pure concern that he had been out in the cold with a box of food beside him.

“oh, well i’m here now,” he smiled, with sleep in his eyes, just grateful to be seeing you.

“come inside,” you finally said, voice quieter. “it’s freezing out here.”

the two of you sat in silence at two of the chairs you pulled out. you could feel the tension in the air, thick and heavy, as you set the chairs down, motioning for jake to sit across from you.

“you really didn’t have to wait out there,” you said quietly, unable to keep the frustration from your voice. “i mean, it’s been so long, and you just show up like nothing happened?”

jake shifted in his seat, and he let out a long sigh. “i know,” he started, his voice heavy. “i didn’t think this through, okay? but i... i couldn’t leave without talking to you. i thought if i came here, if i just showed up, maybe i’d have a chance to explain. to make things right.”

“so what now?” you asked, your voice quieter than before, the sharp edge of anger softening a little. “you just expect me to open up and let you back in? like nothing ever happened? jake, i moved on and got a life, the one i always wanted back when we were in high school just this time it’s without you.”

jake shook his head quickly. “no. i don’t expect that at all. i don’t expect you to just forget everything and pretend like things are fine. but i want to try. i want to show you that i’m not the coward that ran away and prioritized my mom over you.”

you stared at him, torn between wanting to push him away and wanting to hear more. you hadn’t realized how much of your anger had been a shield to protect yourself from the hurt. the hurt of losing someone you thought you’d never have to lose.

“i don’t know what you want from me,” you muttered, your hands tightening around your cup of coffee. “you disappeared without a word for years, jake. that’s not something you just get to erase with some apology. i’m not sure i can just forgive you that easily.”

jake nodded slowly, his eyes never leaving yours. “i don’t want you to forgive me easily. i know it’s not that simple. but i’m here, and i want to prove to you that i’m not going anywhere this time.”

the silence stretched between you two, and for a long moment, neither of you spoke. you both just sat there, the past years of hurt and confusion hanging heavy in the air. but despite the weight of it all, there was something oddly comforting about having him here, even if just for a moment.

“you’re gonna have to earn the forgiveness back you know that right?”

jake looked down, nodding solemnly. "i know. i’m not asking for it to happen right away, or even for it to happen easily. i just... i want to show you that i can be someone you can trust again. that i'm here, for the long haul, this time."

you leaned back in your chair, crossing your arms as you observed him closely. "trust is earned, jake. not given just because you show up one night after disappearing for seven years. you can’t just expect things to go back to the way they were."

“i swear, i have my shit sorted, im back for good. im not gonna leave again. i swear.”

─── ♡

JAKE WAS SEEMINGLY MORE COMMITTED TO PROVING IT THAN EVER FOR SOME REASON. jake, the typically patient man, hell he went through years of schooling and is still in it to become a doctor, was on the edge of his seat. itching to find time to make it up to you.

jake knew he couldn’t rush this. he couldn’t just show up and expect everything to be okay, like the years of silence didn’t matter. he knew it mattered. and it wasn’t just about the hurt—he had spent the last seven years replaying the mistakes he’d made, wondering if he could’ve been better, if he could’ve done more. what gnawed at him the most was how much he had missed out on—how much he still felt for you.

he had always liked you. always. but back then, he was young, impulsive, and reckless. he had his dreams, his priorities. and at the time, he chose his mom’s expectations over the one person who had always been there for him—you. he realized now how selfish that was, how blind he’d been to the feelings he had for you, to the connection that had been right in front of him.

now, though, he wasn’t going to make that same mistake again. he was older, more aware of the weight of things. he wanted to do it the right way this time, take it slow, show you that he could be the person you needed, not just the person who had hurt you.

it was a rainy evening when jake showed up again. he had just finished a long shift at the hospital, his scrubs wrinkled, his eyes tired. he had been trying to sneak in an hour or two of sleep whenever he could, but it was always on the backburner. he didn’t care about sleep anymore. not when there was a chance to make things right.

he had something for you this time, something different.

"hey," he greeted, standing just outside the bakery as you worked behind the counter. "sorry I’m late... busy day."

you didn’t look up immediately, still focused on the dough in front of you. “it’s fine,” you said, your voice distracted but not cold.

jake smiled to himself. the small talk was almost comforting. "actually, i have something for you," he said, stepping into the shop and placing a small bouquet of flowers with a torn out notebook page tied to it.

you eagerly untied the note to see what was inside, and as you unfolded the torn page, you felt a rush of nostalgia hit you. it was a told out page, the edges faded and crinkled yet the picture in the center an old drawing from when you first became friends, with text on the bottom reading ‘yn and jake bffs forever.’

you paused, your heart catching in your chest as your fingers traced the faded lines of the drawing. the memory of that day—of the two of you sitting in the corner of a school cafeteria, laughing and drawing together, sharing secrets and dreams for the future—came rushing back.

“you kept this?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper as you looked up at jake, trying to process it all.

he shifted uncomfortably, his eyes tired but soft. “yeah,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “i guess I thought it was important. i didn't really know what to do with it... but i wanted to bring it to you. remind you of who we were before everything got complicated.”

"why now?" you asked softly, your gaze lifting to meet his. "after all this time?"

jake shifted again, his fingers tracing the seam of his scrub jacket. there was a quiet hesitation in his eyes, like he was choosing his words carefully, or maybe deciding how much of the truth he should let slip. “because it was always there. i’ve just... been too stubborn to see it until now.”

you didn’t know what to say to that. it wasn’t a full answer, but there was something in his tone—something more than regret—that made your chest tighten. a part of you wanted to call him out for waiting so long, but another part of you—one you hadn’t expected to resurface—was just glad he was here now.

as much as you wanted to be upset at him, yell at him, continue telling you off, you couldn’t find it in yourself to be upset any longer. at your core, all you wanted was the jake you had known forever, returned back to you.

you let the thought hang there, not quite sure what to do with it. instead, you reached for the bouquet he had brought, lifting it slightly as if to change the subject. "these are nice. thank you."

jake’s smile softened, and he shrugged, though there was a spark of something more in his eyes. "it's nothing. just... thought you'd like them."

you nodded, the conversation drifting into an easy, comfortable lull. but there was a change in the air now—something tentative, something that neither of you was fully ready to acknowledge yet. the space between you was different, as if a new kind of understanding had started to form, and neither of you was quite sure what it would look like in the end.

you glanced at him, and for a moment, you didn’t know whether to smile or look away, but you couldn’t help the soft pull of something—maybe hope, maybe curiosity—lingering in your chest.

─── ♡

IT ALMOST FELT NORMAL the way the two of you went back to being stuck at the hip. not in the way you had been before, when everything was simple and effortless, but in a new, tentative way. like you were both testing the waters, unsure of where the boundary lines were anymore, but unwilling to let go of the comfort that came with having each other around.

oftentimes jake would drive to visit during his lunch hours even if it meant for 5 minutes.

you found yourself, surprisingly, looking forward to his visits, even when they came after long, exhausting days. sometimes, you’d catch him just watching you while you worked, a look in his eyes you couldn’t quite decipher but didn’t mind. he didn’t rush to fill every pause with words. instead, he seemed content to sit beside you, a quiet presence.

and as much as you tried to avoid it, you couldn’t deny the way your chest seemed to tighten whenever he glanced at you that little bit longer, or how your thoughts would wander to him long after he left, even when you tried to focus on other things.

"you know," jake said one evening, his voice breaking through the comfortable silence, "i was thinking about that one cake design you drew when we were kids. the one with the little animals? you said you were going to make it someday. for your bakery."

you paused mid-icing a cake, your hands stilling at the memory. it had been a simple sketch—a tiny bear holding a cake on its back, with frosting and sprinkles that looked more like magic than reality. "yeah, I remember that," you replied, your voice soft. "I always thought it would be cute to make a little collection of those—cakes inspired by childhood drawings."

jake smiled, leaning back in his chair. "well, you’ve got one customer here. whenever you get around to it."

one afternoon, as you wiped your hands on your apron, you noticed jake standing by the counter, a slight smile playing at the corners of his lips. there was something different in the way he looked at you today. maybe it was the way his eyes lingered just a little longer or how he seemed more relaxed than usual, despite the chaos of his busy day.

"you're looking more tired than usual," you commented as he set his coffee down, wiping his hands on his pants. "when’s the last time you actually rested?"

he gave a tired chuckle. "a few days ago. but, you know, sleep doesn't exactly fit into a doctor's schedule."

you raised an eyebrow, crossing your arms. "maybe you should make it fit, for your own sanity."

jake shrugged, but his eyes softened. "yeah, yeah. I’ll get around to it. but honestly, I’d rather be here."

the words caught you off guard. you glanced up at him, trying to gauge whether he was being serious, or if it was just the exhaustion talking.

"here?" you asked, a little surprised. "you're a little crazy if you'd rather be here than... well, anywhere else. you're a doctor now, jake. you've got a lot on your plate."

he met your gaze steadily. "i know. and I'm not complaining about it. but being here, with you, even for a few minutes, makes it all a little easier."

"well, I appreciate the visit," you said, breaking the silence, the familiar comfort of your banter returning. "but I still think you need some sleep."

he laughed softly, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. "i'll sleep when I can. but for now, I'm good. besides," he paused, as if deciding whether to say the next part, iI'm just glad we’re talking again."

there was something in his voice—something unspoken but deeply felt—that made you pause. it wasn’t the usual playful tone jake had when he teased or joked around. it was more sincere, more serious. and for a second, the line between friendship and something else felt thinner, more fragile than ever.

you gave him a small smile, a little unsure of how to respond, but grateful for the quiet honesty between you. "me too," you said softly.

─── ♡

IT HAD BEEN A FEW DAYS SINCE YOU LAST SAW JAKE. he hadn’t visited as often, and every time you sent him a message to check in, he would always respond with a quick "busy at the hospital" or "swamped with work." you didn’t think much of it at first—he was, after all, a doctor, and you knew how demanding his job could be. but when his responses started getting shorter, and you noticed he didn’t show up during his lunch break like he normally did, something in your gut told you that something was wrong.

you hoped the same thing wouldn’t be happening once over again, praying that he didn’t just up and leave like he did before.

it wasn’t until your dad texted in the group chat that you pieced it together.

“siri text jake only, i’m coming over with soup jake.”

you stared at your phone, rereading the message a couple of times. something felt off. jake hadn’t mentioned anything about being sick, and you hadn’t heard from him in days—not even a quick visit during his lunch break like usual. a creeping sense of concern twisted in your stomach.

why didn’t he want to tell you that he was sick?

you rushed over to his apartment which you had only seen once after he moved in, hesitant to visit after everything had happened in the past.

you unlocked the door with the spare key he gave you, telling you to come visit whenever, even if he wasn’t home, and took a deep breath before swinging the door open.

“jake?” you called out, flicking the light on from the switch in the doorway.

from the living room, you heard a soft groan, and there he was, sprawled out on the couch, covered in blankets, looking like he hadn’t moved in hours. his face was pale, and there was a noticeable flush on his cheeks, evidence of the fever that had kept him away.

"you’re not supposed to be here," jake muttered, his voice hoarse, barely louder than a whisper. he tried to sit up but winced, his body clearly protesting the effort.

you couldn’t help but smile despite yourself, shaking your head as you made your way to the couch. "well, tough luck," you said, sitting next to him, brushing a few strands of hair from his forehead. "you’re stuck with me now."

his eyes softened, and he let out a quiet chuckle, though it quickly turned into a cough.

"you’re such a pain," you teased gently, settling under the blankets next to him, your shoulder brushing his.

jake glanced over at you, the edges of his lips twitching as he let out a slow breath. "i didn’t want you to see me like this," he confessed, his voice quieter now. "didn’t want you to think i was weak."

you smiled softly, leaning your head against his shoulder. "i’m not going anywhere, jake," you whispered.

“sorry i didn’t tell you im sick,” he mumbled, his voice low and tired. "i didn’t want you to worry, and i thought it’d pass. but guess i was just avoiding all the things i should’ve said."

you frowned slightly, shifting so you could look up at him more clearly. "jake, you don’t have to hide things from me, especially not something like this. you’re not alone. not anymore."

his eyes met yours, and in that moment, there was a quiet understanding between the two of you. the kind of understanding that came from years of friendship, of shared silence and unspoken words.

"i know," he said softly, squeezing your hand, the warmth of his touch grounding you. "i’m just… i’m still figuring things out, you know? everything’s different now, and i’m scared of messing it up again. scared of losing you, yn."

you tilted your head, considering his words for a moment. "you’re not going to lose me," you replied, your voice gentle but firm. "so no more running anymore okay? not because of your mom or being sick or whatever okay?"

he nodded, swallowing hard, his eyes never leaving yours. "i’m not going anywhere this time," he promised, his voice a little stronger now, though still hoarse. "i’m staying right here with you, through all of it."

there was a moment of quiet, where all the noise of the world outside seemed to fade into nothing. just the two of you, tangled up in blankets, close enough to feel each other’s heartbeats.

you smiled softly, a warmth spreading in your chest. "promise?"

“i promise i’m yours, forever,”

─── ♡

TO SAY YOUR DAD WAS SHOCKED WHEN HE WALKED IN holding a container of his soup in a takeout bag to see the two of you cuddled up on the couch was an understatement.

you both heard the door open, and jake immediately tensed, his eyes darting toward the hallway where your dad stood, frozen in the doorway.

"uh…" your dad started, blinking rapidly, clearly unsure of what to make of the situation. "this is… a surprise."

you quickly sat up, pushing the blanket off you as you tried to keep things from getting too awkward. "dad, it’s not what you think—"

"no need to explain," your dad interrupted, raising a hand in mock surrender, his face breaking into a grin. "i just brought some soup. figured i’d drop it off since jake's feeling under the weather."

"you’re not mad?" you asked, the words slipping out before you could stop them.

your dad chuckled softly, walking over to the coffee table and setting the soup down. "mad? no, i’m not mad. just surprised, that’s all." he shot a glance at jake, who was sitting up straighter, looking mildly embarrassed. "honestly, i’m just glad to see you two working things out."

you gave your dad a wide-eyed look. "working things out?"

he shrugged, unbothered. "it’s been obvious for a while, you know. you two have always been like this, just needed to figure it out on your own." he smiled and shut the door behind him allowing the two of you your space.

over the next weeks things between you and jake felt effortless again, but in the best way. it was like a quiet understanding settled between you two—like you had both stepped back into your rhythm, only this time, there was something more to it.

it was a saturday morning when he showed up at your cafe, a little earlier than usual, with a grin plastered across his face.

"morning, pretty girl," he said as he leaned against the counter, eyes soft and playful as he watched you work.

you rolled your eyes at the nickname, but your lips curled into a smile anyway. "you’re here early. don’t tell me you’re getting sick again."

"nah," jake replied, shaking his head as he leaned in closer stealing a quick kiss from you across the counter. "just wanted to see my angel before the day gets crazy. plus, i thought you could benefit from seeing me,” he smirked with confidence.

it was a simple moment, one that felt like it belonged to the two of you alone. the noise of the cafe around you seemed to fade, leaving only the warmth of the moment, the quiet understanding between you two that you had found something real and lasting.

as the day went on, the customers came and went, but you and jake were content just to be near each other. every glance, every word, every touch was a reminder of how far you had come—together, at your own pace, but now, with no hesitation in sight.

every second with him was a lingering reminder that he was yours, forever.

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whowrotethenote · 27 days ago

Text

𝐁𝐢𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐅𝐚𝐧

Rating: 18+ minors DNI

Summary: What starts off as a regular Spring Break attending Wrestlemania for Alana, takes an unexpected turn, landing her in a fantasy come to life. The Tribal Chief is in need of unwinding after his victory and he chose her.

Pairing: Roman Reigns x Black Fem OC

Warnings: NSFW // Smut // Age gap // Profanity // Adultery

Word count: 8.9k (sorry lol)

Inspo: Biggest Fan by Chris Brown

A/N: This took way longer than it should've, but I'm actually proud of myself for finishing. Y'all don't know how many times I've started writing something in the past and never finish. There's drafts of unfinished everything on my laptop.

This is my first time posting my writing on any platform. I hope y'all like it. I tried to proofread as much as I can, but I'm honestly tired of reading it lol. I feel like I'm going to realize its shit and delete it all.

Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to any media posted. Credit to their respective owners.

I do not consent to any portion of my writing to be reproduced or used in any manner without expressed written permission of myself, with the exception for the use of brief quotations.

This story is completely fictional. With the exception of OCs, I do not own any characters in this story. The pictures posted are for the intention of face claims and imaginative purposes. The ideas, stories, scenarios, and characters you are about to read about are a mixture of my imagination, and inspiration from real life whether it be loosely based on people I know or public figures. By no means should you take anything a character thinks, says, or does, as my way of expressing my own interpersonal beliefs and thoughts. The characters are themselves and I am me. Two completely separate entities. I am not trying to promote any lifestyle, ideas, or agendas throughout the book. I am simply telling a story. If you cannot grasp that concept, do not read any further.

“I wonder if the Usos will come out.”

“Yeah, probably,” I respond to my roommate Demi, only half as concerned as she is. The Usos are the last thing on my mind. They’re her choice of poison. I’m here for one man and one man only.

I survey the crowd of strangers surrounding us. All in Bloodline gear waiting for the same thing. The Main Event. They all probably spent a fortune months ago just to be in the very same spot she and I stole tickets for.

It wasn’t on purpose. We originally had nosebleeds. We were lucky to even have those, seeing as we snagged them just days ago. The frail older man outside the doors waving a chunk of tickets in his hand, was an angel in disguise. He waved and waved until two tickets went flying into the thick crowd of people all pushing to just get into the main doors of the building.

Demi and I searched on hands and feet for those tickets that no one else seemed to be looking for. Imagine our disbelief seeing them all dirtied and stepped on by the door and they read floor seats. Not just any floor seats. The ones located directly next to the entrance ramp with a clear shot of the ring. Fucking jackpot.

don’t be acting all fanned out when he walks by either

I smirk reading the text my brother sent. Yeah, right. Maybe three years ago, a young Alana would’ve woke up tomorrow morning with no voice from losing my shit, watching the Roman Reigns walk by me. But it's not five years ago. I’m not a teenager in my room waiting at the TV with my golden glove on, throwing my one’s up and giving an acknowledgment he couldn’t even see.

Who am I fooling? That teenage girl, although buried deep, still lives within me. Otherwise I wouldn’t even be here. I wouldn’t have spent the two thousand my dad gave me to enjoy my spring break on a plane ticket to LA, a hotel and tickets to Wrestle-mania 39. I’d be like the rest of the Juniors at my university. Bar hopping in Mexico or in Miami half naked strutting down Collins Ave.

I go back and forth between scrolling on my phone, daydreaming, and loosely watching the matches that come. Before I know it, the moment I’ve been waiting for all night and damn near all my life rises to the forefront.

The lights dim and the first beats of the drums ring loud throughout the stadium, matching the acceleration of my heartbeat. This is really happening. He’s about to come out and walk right past me. Everyone around me pulls their phones out on the ready, accompanied by a roar of screams just as loud as the orchestra performing his music.

Too concentred on the entry way anticipating his figure, I forget I even have a phone. No, I need to feel this thoroughly. No middle man between me and this unforgettable experience.

We all wait in collaborative angst until his tall figure emerges and my breath gets caught in my throat. The aura and the energy he carries is all consuming, demanding the attention of every person present, even his haters. Solo and Paul flank behind him following his slow and steady pace until he comes to a hard stop.

The cameraman is dangerously close as he kneels to catch him from an angle down below. This is so surreal. On cue his pyro lights fire, upping the excitement from the crowd if even possible. Everyone is already losing their minds. Even Demi’s screams threatened to take out my right eardrum despite her main infatuation resting with the Usos.

His mesmerizing eyes scan the crowd with a slight nod of approval and then they land on…me? Time stills and I can’t hear the noise around me. Was he staring at me?

As much as I want to look around for confirmation that his eyes are indeed locked on me, I’m hypnotized. The slight scrunch of his brows and his dark pupils paralyze me in place. Jesus, Lana. Move. Smile. Wave. Shit, do something.

He’s fucking beautiful. Carved from stone. Kissed by the sun. Hair wet and hanging. Ula Fala draping perfectly around his neck. Full beard with a hint of greying. And his chest. God, his chest. His abs rippled perfectly. I’m scared to even blink, at the risk that I’ll miss something.

A thick pink tongue slithers out over his lips and I heat up from the inside out. My god.

In a flash he looks onward to the ring on the move again and the world returns to its original state.

I turn to face Demi whose eyes are wide like a saucer. “Biiiitch,” she drags out and we break into a fit of laughter.

“Okay, so I’m not bugging?” My brows dent.

“No. No, I saw it too,” she assures me. “That man was definitely eye fucking you.” My face heats replaying the scene back in my head. “That was so surreal. He’s so much bigger in person…” Her voice trails off once I get lost in my thoughts watching him hold his titles up in the center of the ring. He moves like a king. Like everywhere he goes he expects everyone to bow gracefully and fall at his feet. It makes him even more attractive than just what the eyes can reach. Fuck me. This is going to be a long night.

Demi got her wish. The Usos came out but their stunt didn’t last too long due to an appearance from Sami and Kevin. Somehow, Roman still took home the win. Still the champion. Still on top. Still the man.

The whole match, I could only half way focus on him and his god-like figure moving about in the ring. The other half of me was still stuck in the moment we shared during his entrance. Was he really staring at me?

Call me delusional, but I swear he looked at me two more times. Once during the match, when he kicked out at the last second of Cody’s pin. He struggled to his knees and rested back on his heels to scan the crowd. He stumbled to his feet, but not before those eyes bore a hole into mine for a quick second. Then again, when he won. He held up his titles, chest heaving up and down, then he looked my way with a squint.

“I can’t believe he still won,” Demi practically has to yell as we ease our way through the crowd to leave. “I was sure it was game over when Sami gave him the boot.”

Simultaneously we push through the back entrance doors and let them slam behind us. The slightly chilly night air of April hitting. No more screams. No more crowds. But the rush and aura of the night still lingers on us.

“My man doesn’t take L’s,” I tell her matter-of-factly with my chin up.

“I see,” she laughs.

We were smart. We took an Uber and told him to let us out from almost three blocks away. We follow that same pattern now to avoid the rush and traffic of everybody trying to leave at once. Towards the opposite way of the parking lot, away from the crowds, we start our journey to a quiet block to call the Uber.

“Wanna hit it?” Demi extends her hand that holds a lit blunt in between her fingers. I shake my head.

“How the hell did you even get that thing in?”

“Tampon,” she informs before pulling from it. Of course. She’s been sneaking weed into parties that way since we were freshmen.

“Excuse me! Ladies!” An authoritative calls from behind causing us both to stop in our tracks. I know that voice. “Excuse me!”

Demi and I lock eyes and at once we do a complete one-eighty to find him practically chasing us down.

“What the fuck?” I hear Demi murmur before he stops in front of us winded.

“Ladies,” he offers one firm nod. “My name is—’’

“Paul Heyman,” we finish for him in unison.

A smug smile adorns his chubby face. “That’s right.” He holds a hand out and we both just stare at it for a while. After several seconds of an awkward and shocking silence, Demi abruptly shakes his hand and I follow her lead, still trying to make sense of this moment.

“I’ve been sent to relay a message. The Tribal Chief has requested your services for tonight.”

“Services?” The line between Demi’s thoughts and what comes out of her mouth has always been very blurred.

“Yes,” he confirms. In unison we turn just our heads to each other with equal expressions of confusion and disbelief. “You see, The Tribal Chief likes the comfort of company while he’s on the road from time to time.”

“Company, huh?” I catch Demi’s smirk.

“Especially on nights like tonight. You know?” I raise a brow. “All the adrenaline, excitement, and energy from tonight’s match. It's good for him to uh… blow off some steam and unwind.”

I lose count of how many times Demi and I have to exchange looks tonight. Since I’ve met her we’ve always spoke a nonverbal language only we understand. A subtle head nod in the direction of a cute boy in the room, an eye roll when somebody says something problematic, or wide eyes when someone spills tea that we know we’ll have to debrief about later. Tonight, our eyes dance in a mutual agreement that can’t be any clearer. “Hell yeah,” I speak for the first time.

Demi tosses the lit blunt and we both advance to follow him. “Oh no, I’m sorry. Just you.”

“Me?” I ask with a finger to my chest. He grins slyly nodding.

“I— I don't know.”

“You don’t know?” Demi slaps my arm.

“I’ll need an answer now. Gotta get you to his bus before the real crowd emerges. There’s a few things you need to sign.” Sign? Oh god. This is getting serious.

“M—maybe this is a mix up. Are you sure he asked for me—”

“Bitch.” I’m interrupted by a firm push from Demi toward Paul. My eyes meet her wide ones that scream, “go.”

I look between the both of them. “You’ll be fine getting to the hotel?” I’m not all the way certain how tonight will go, but I have a feeling I won’t be seeing her until tomorrow.

“Girl, don’t worry about me. I’ll always get where I’m going. I should be the last thing on your mind.”

“We can wait until her Uber comes?” I eye Paul who eyes his watch briefly.

“Sure.”

So we wait in silence. The whole time, I bounce the idea of just saying never mind and pussying out, back and forth like tennis. Reading my mind, Demi would eye me and mouth “don’t you dare.” So many things can go wrong. I’m not even entirely sure I know what the hell Paul is talking about. Company? Services? It could mean so many things. Does he want to talk? A massage? Am I going to just sit there on his lap while he watches TV? What if he’s one of those foot guys? Is he going to touch himself while I sit there barefoot? Oh god, please don’t have a foot fetish.

With the exception of tonight, I’ve only ever seen him through a screen. Playing a character. I don’t know him. That’s the reality of it. Am I really about to follow a stranger, Paul Heyman, to accompany another strange man?

After checking that she has the right Uber and sensing she will be safe alone with him, I let her hand go. She gives me one final look before I let her shut the car door. “Make him remember you, bitch.”

Like a farmer leading its cattle to slaughter, I follow him as he leads me up the steep steps of the bus. A pit of something stirs in my stomach the deeper we walk. Equal parts angst and doom. Like the end of something and the beginning at the same time. We pass the driver’s seat. The floors are a shiny mahogany wood, matching the cabinets of the kitchen area we end up in. Although small, it feels grand. Definitely doesn’t seem like a space this chic belongs in a bus trailer. I guess only the best for the best.

In the midst of admiring the space, I look over to see Paul shuffling some papers around.

“Alright! So I’ll need you to sign this.” He separates one stack from the main one and slides a pen out for me. “Just something that says we’re not responsible for any items lost, damaged, or anything like that.” Everything in me screams to read the thick stack thoroughly before I dare sign my name on the dotted line. I do it anyway, because who even has time for that? Paul is already moving about like he has somewhere to be.

“And this here,” he pushes the signed paper out the way and slides another stack in its place. This one much thicker than the former. I raise a brow. “Don’t worry. It's just a non-disclosure. Nothing discussed, seen, or heard after you sign can be shared with any other persons.”

I look for the expiration date of the legal document and don’t find one. I search and my eyes land on the word indefinitely.

“Indefinitely, huh?” I think deeply about what I am about to agree to. I would only even want to tell Demi and a few other girls from our bookclub maybe that watch WWE. My eyes land on the seven figure lawsuit terms if the NDA is breached. I weigh my options. Spill tea and get fined or secretly get intimate with the man of my dreams…

The pen is smooth as it glides along the dotted line and I cap it before handing it back over to Paul. “Perfect.” He takes it and reorganizes the papers. I blow out a breath looking around again. There’s a grey curtain blocking off the rest of the bus, which I assume holds a bedroom of some sort and a bathroom.

“Is he already here?” I lean to try and get a peak of whats beyond the curtain.

“Nope. He’s doing a bit of press and wrapping some things up backstage. You’ll wait for him here. The driver is inside the building. Probably won’t be back until late tonight. Roman should be back soon.”

“I’m expected to stay here overnight?”

“Totally up to you. I’m sure you and him will figure it out. It’s not like him to spend the night alone though.”

In that moment it becomes clear what I am here to do. My heart lurches at the thought of just sharing a bed and possibly cuddling with him. His big muscular arms wrapped around me. The heat of his breath on the back of my neck and the hardness of his di—

“This wasn’t on the NDA you just signed, but,” he held his hand out between us. “I’m gonna need that phone before I leave.” Of course. I almost change my mind. “Don’t worry. You’ll get it back as soon as it's all over. Definitely before you leave.”

Fuck it. I retrieve my phone from the back pocket of my jeans and he gladly takes it. I don’t need it anyhow. I can’t imagine being in the presence of him anyway and my phone stealing the show. I would forget I even had one.

It's not long before he’s packing everything up, preparing to leave me. A small part doesn’t want him to go. He served as sort of a comfort. Truth be told, my heart is in my ass.

He pulls the curtain back to reveal a chic bedroom set up. If I didn't know any better, I would think we are in a five star hotel and not a bus trailer.

Everything is a sleek grey with undertones of black. Glossy black wood dresser chest and a matching nightstand. Black wood bed frame and headboard. I run my hand along the dark grey duvet thats just as soft as it looks.

“I’ll be on my way. You’ll probably see me tomorrow or later tonight. If not someone else will give the phone back.” He waves my phone and turns, but not before pulling the curtain back to close.

I’m all alone now. Theres a flat screen mounted opposite the bed, but the noise won’t do anything but make me more anxious. I want to be able to hear everything going on.

I have the weird urge to go through his suitcase I see sitting upright by the wall. I shake the thought away knowing it's an invasion of privacy. I opt to go through the dresser chest instead. Its empty. I guess he didn’t get a chance to unpack.

I turn and rest my butt on it, crossing my arms. Minutes go by, and what seems like an hour passes before I hear movement outside the bus. Deep voices talking and then I hear heavy steps heading my way. I straighten up. No, too formal. I sit on the bed legs crossed. No, what am I? An escort?

I stand again and take my original place leaning on the edge of the dresser, just in time for the curtain to pull back. The sight of his large stature so much closer to me than he was in the arena takes my breath away.

He doesn’t say a word. Just looks at me and walks right by me to his suitcase. Then he’s in the bathroom. The sound of him peeing is loud followed by water running.

Big, tan and burly, he emerges again. He moves with power just oozing off of him, with an authority that just screamed, “I’m in charge.” It's not just a ring persona. Thats just him.

My eyes never leave his tall frame maneuvering around the small space as if I’m not even standing here. He kicks the Jordans off his feet to slip into his slides. His Nike hoodie comes off next and he tosses it on the small loveseat in the corner. His big and cut arms now in full view.

He relieves himself of the contents in his pants pockets. Wallet, keys, some loose change, and a small folded paper all fall on the dresser. He stops for a moment holding out his left hand. He twists the black band off his ring finger and places it in the drawer instead of on top of the dresser with the rest of his things.

Our eyes snag and I immediately shift my attention to my fingers. Twisting and untwisting. Picking at the acrylic on my nails. Anything but looking him in the eye after witnessing that. It's not too late to change my mind. I can stop this. I should, but do I really want to?

The sound of his slides lets me know he’s on the move again. I find him by a minibar area I hadn’t noticed earlier.

“Is it cold in here?” His deep voice cuts through the silence. It's then I notice I was holding and rubbing my arms as if I was cold. So, he is paying me some kind of attention. Truth is, I’m just trying to keep the goosebumps from a slight panic attack at bay.

“No, it's fine.”

“You feeling alright?” He twists slightly with a raised brow. Probably trying to figure out why I haven’t moved an inch since he walked in here. He’s so calm and cool. I don’t know what I was expecting, but the calmer he is, the more anxious I grow.

“Yeah. Y—yeah, no I’m fine.”

“You spoke to Paul already?”

“Yeah—yes,” I correct myself and clear my throat. I don’t know when it became so damn dry.

I was speaking to his back. The muscles still making themselves known even through the fabric of his black tee. Hair sleeked back into his signature bun. My eyes trail down to his ass. For a man, he has a nice one. I image how he’d look with nothing. The intimacy of him walking around with absolutely nothing on. The afterglow of sex on him. Rock hard abs and tribal tattoo as his only decoration. His manhood swinging freely, semi-hard even after just laying serious wood—

“Then I assume you know why you’re here,” his deep voice cuts my nasty daydream short.

I can hear him maneuvering glass, but I couldn’t see exactly what he was doing over his big frame. I was too shell shocked to move too much, afraid I might wake up from this fever dream.

“I do,” I answer him.

If my father knew when he gave his only daughter, his princess, money to enjoy her spring break, that she’d end up alone in the bus of a man who was over ten years her senior, the money would’ve never made it into my hand in the first place. I’m sure this isn’t what he had in mind, but truly this was the best way a young girl could enjoy spring break. An unexpected encounter with an older and wealthier man. My idol. I watched him on TV for years. Gawked at the screen. Liked thousands of edits on Tiktok and Instagram. Dreams of this very moment knowing it couldn’t possibly ever come true. And now here he was. Big in stature and energy right here in front of me. Talking to me.

Hell yeah, I know what I’m here to do. Even if he didn’t utter a single word and just stripped and nodded to the bed, I’d still get the job done with no shame. What girl in her right mind wouldn’t?

I can hear them now. But he’s married. He has a family. He’s old enough to be your father. They just won’t understand. Demi would. Demi would get it. She always gets it and she always gets me. Having lost her father and sister in a car crash just weeks before moving into the dorms for college, taught her that life was indeed too short. Live freely and take risk, because you don’t know when you won’t be able to. Shit, we’re all gonna die anyway. That’s the mantra she lives by. She’s different and that’s why I attached myself to her. She’s not like everybody else who lives like they’ve already walked the steps to heaven.

This was a more than seldom, once in a lifetime opportunity. I’d think about this night when I’m grey and depleting on my deathbed. I won’t let my head play tricks on me with the opinions of anyone who would do the same thing put in my position.

It's silent again. I hear liquid being poured for a second. I wonder if Demi made it back to the hotel okay. She’s probably blowing up my phone with a thousand texts trying to figure out whats going on.

So deep in my thoughts I don’t realize he’s making his way to me until he’s right here already. I have to look up to meet his gaze as he stares down at me over the bridge of his nose. He’s so big. He smells divine. It's a masculine type of musk with a cleanliness to it. My breath gets caught in my throat, realizing exactly how close we are. Our shoes were just shy of an inch from touching. My chest rises and falls in anticipation of his next move.

Without any words, he holds a glass filled with brown liquid out closer to me. I look down at it with just my eyes. I’ve only been twenty-one for two weeks. Didn’t even get the opportunity to sit at a bar so a man could offer me a drink before trying to sleep with me. Who would’ve thought the first offering would come from him. Roman Reigns. Just at that thought, something in me ignited.

I took it, with the intention meaning more than just accepting the drink. I’m accepting the situation. Drawing a line in the sand and disposing of any doubt if there even was any left. I’m doing this. All complications pushed to the back. Tonight he’s not Joe Anoa’i, the married man with five kids. He’s Roman Reigns, undisputed WWE Universal Champion, The Tribal Chief, Main Eventer, Head of the Table…And I’m his biggest fan.

I throw the contents of the glass back, trying my hardest not to make a face from the burning sensation. He gets it down in one big gulp, putting me to shame, as I can’t help watching his Adam’s apple bob up and then down. He’s still just inches from me. I can see every hair on his beard. The slight greying ones are my favorite.

It's so weird seeing him in this state. So lax in his own space. No ring gear. No mean scowl. No Ula Fala around his neck. No championship belt around his waist. Just him. Black tee and sweats to match.

He takes the glass back and places them both behind me on the dresser top. Without warning, he’s on me. His tongue shoves past my lips saying to hell with formalities. No warm up. Straight to business.

“Mm,” I groan from shock. My natural instinct from being so caught off guard is to create some space, but a firm hand gripping the base of my neck keeps me in place.

He immediately asserts dominance, caressing every part of my body his hands can reach like he owns it. My neck, my shoulders, my back, and all the way down to my ass with a firm squeeze that separates my pussy lips. All the while still assaulting my mouth with his warm tongue. The tang of the alcohol still lingering. I fight for some control in the kiss but it's no use. He’s too much for me.

Everywhere his strong hands make contact, it leaves a spark until my whole body feels like it's on fire. Damn, that drink was strong. He pulls away from the kiss completely after one last soft, open mouthed peck. Like a magnet, my eyes find the thick bulge in his black sweats and I grow even more excited.

He drops to his knees in front of me and my breath hitches when his cold fingertips find their way up my shirt. A trail of kisses with a slight tickle from his beard follow up and up until I raise my arms for him to take the shirt off completely.

He’s back on his feet, turning me so my back is facing him. My breathing grows erratic. This is really happening.

“Lights,” his voice rumbles behind me. The bright lights turn off but there's little lamps set up in the small space allowing a cast bright enough to see still.

The black lace bra I wear is unhooked in a matter of seconds. Who knew when I put it on this morning, that Roman Reigns himself would be taking it off come night. With a firm grip on my hips he turns me back to face him.

Being well endowed up top from such a young age, my natural instinct is to cover myself. I always thought they were a bit big for my body. Standing at five foot seven, I was only one hundred and fifty pounds. A lot of my weight being carried up top from these double D’s. When all the girls in middle school were just filling in, I was a full D cup. I noticed how boys would stare. Older men too. It would make me uncomfortable. Always thinking of ways to cover them or make them appear smaller.

Avoiding eye contact is useless. His eyes are like magnets. Like the sun. Just beaming down on me, making them impossible to evade. So I stare back at him. We stay like this for a while. Just watching one another in silence. The air is smoky with lust and pure ecstasy.

His hands cover mine and slowly drag them down to reveal my breast. Round, surprisingly perky, with fully erect chocolate nipples, creating a contrast to my caramel complexion. They steal the show as his eyes shoot to them immediately while he breathes deep from his nose.

I can feel his energy shift from passionate to pure animalistic. When his entire mouth covers one nipple, I lose all my sense. My head rolls back and instinctively I bring a hand to the back of his head. A rough hand cups and caresses my breast while he’s still latched on. I watch in awe as his thick tongue sticks out to flick and play with it before sucking again.

He’s expertly unbuttoning my jeans with his other hand as I feel the snag of him trying to pull them down. I step out of my shoes to help him and reveal the black thong I am not even accustomed to wearing. I’m more of a a boy shorts or Walmart pack panties kind of girl. I just so happen to have forgotten to pack them and had to borrow a pair from Demi.

Bending down must be uncomfortable, since he grips the back of my knees to hike me up like I weigh absolutely nothing. He gives more attention to my chest, sucking until my nipples are sore, before his tongue is in my mouth exploring again. We’re moving now, I assume towards the bed. With every step, his erection rubs against me leaving me clenching and needy.

My back meets the unbelievably soft bed. I practically sink into it, watching him rear back to remove his shirt and show off that god-like body. Mountains and valleys of muscle in his abdomen placed perfectly like someone sculpted him with their bare hands. His bun hangs a little looser now.

His long fingers loop the waistband of my panties and we lock eyes. His stare is intense saying what his lips didn’t. I nod once. I’m doing this.

Almost in slow motion he pulls them down my legs, his eyes not leaving mine until the very last second. His attention is stolen by the sight of me down there.

“You’re soaking.” He uses the butt of his thumb to circle my clit. I jump slightly at the sudden contact. “That’s all for me?” He locks eyes with me again, expecting an answer and all I can do is nod frantically while biting down hard on my bottom lip. I can’t keep still. My body is on fire under his touch and his gaze. Eyes dark with passion, he squints watching me squirm every time he speeds the rhythm of his thumb up or down.

��Fuck,” I move my hips to the rhythm of his hand and grab one of my breast.

His thick tongue snakes out to lick his pink lips like he did earlier in the arena and I almost cum on sight. I look on in shock watching how he licks his thumb clean like he just ate Doritos and he’s discarding the remnants of them. A small groan of pleasure leaves his throat. I must be dreaming.

Climbing off the bed hastily, he tugs his pants and red briefs down at once and his dick pops up on recoil. My pussy clenches around nothing in anticipation for her next guest. Long, thick and tanned just like the rest of him. Mouthwatering. I never had the urge to taste something so bad in my life.

I can tell there’s no time for that though. He’s anxious now. I can feel the heat and need radiating off his body as if his stiff, vein-filled dick didn’t already tell on him.

With a tight grip on my ankle, he flips me over abruptly. Of course. Missionary would’ve been way too intimate for the circumstances.

On instinct I get up on all fours, deepening the arch to an almost painful degree so the view is nice for him. A smack so hard I jerk forward a bit, lets me know he’s satisfied with what he sees.

“All this ass,” he mumbles rubbing my behind in circles and even giving it a little shake.

He runs his long fingers up and down the slickness with ease. A groan leaves my throat as I grow impatient. I know I should want this to last as long as humanly possible, but I can’t fight this storm inside of me. I’ve wondered too long about it, daydreamed about it, and even touched myself in imagination before at the thought of this man I only knew through a TV screen.

I sway back and forth slightly waiting and listening to the sound of a wrapper and a slight pop. I have no time to prepare. The bed dips with the weight of him back on it. His thick head is at my opening, rubbing from my clit to almost my asshole. He only does this three good times before I’m practically ripped apart.

“Ouu!” A mix of a moan and something I’ve never heard from myself fills the room. He roughly takes the hand I thought I would use to push him and pins it behind me.

My throat goes dry. God damn. He’s fucking huge and unforgiving. Even with the slow pace he’s pushing into me combined with my wetness, it still feels like he’s breaking me apart from the inside out.

“Breathe,” he coaches. If possible a gush of wetness rushes out from the sound of his voice, bringing me back to the situation at hand. I have to make it work for him.

I bite down on the expensive grey covers as he pulls completely out and then back in. “Mm!”

He finds his rhythm, as he’s able to glide in and out. I try to match him once the pain subsides. I glance back to catch his full bottom lip caught between his teeth. The muscles in his chest working as a sheen of sweat starts to form.

I work harder now. The sight of him turning me on more than ever, opening me up like a wildflower.

“Let me hear you. I wanna hear you,” he grunts out almost desperately. The vulnerability in his rough voice drawing more heat and wetness from my core. I moan louder than I intended and shock myself. I’m not usually verbal in bed. Maybe a little cry or whimper here and there. This shit feels too good to be demure and delicate about.

I obey his order and release the moan that I didn’t even know I’m suppressing. It's not forced or fabricated. I genuinely feel so good in this moment I can only moan in response.

His strokes are primal. Animalistic like a lion in the wild taking whats his. And he’s so fucking big. In aura and size. The ways his body envelopes mine makes me feel smaller than I really am. His thickness stretching me in a way I didn’t think was possible.

“Oh, fuck!” I yell out. His hand tangles in my hair and stretches my gaze up, giving him full view of my desperate face.

“Tell me how good it feels,” he demands.

“Oh my god,” I pant. “It's so fucking good,” I struggle to get out. Every thrust steals my breath. He aims for the perfect spot every time and doesn’t miss. The smack of our bodies colliding ring loud in the silent space.

“Louder, baby,” he grunts diving deeper.

“I can feel you everywhere. You feel so good! Unh!”

“Atta girl.” The rumble of his voice sends a vibration straight to my core. My pussy clenches down from his words. To add insult to injury, a large and slightly calloused hand finds its way up my stomach to cup my breast. He pinches, twists and rolls my nipple around like he’s playing with a toy. As if my pussy isn’t becoming dangerously wetter already.

He removes the hold in my hair, trailing to my hip. His thumb presses down hard while guiding me back and forth on him. He gives me his all and I return the favor, using the unstable grip I have on the duvet to leverage me as I throw my ass back on him to catch.

The friction of his balls slapping sloppily against my clit built up enough pressure for a pending orgasm. With one strong hand still on my hip, he uses his free one to shove my face down to the bed making me lose any power I had in this fight.

His front collides with my ass, causing a consistent slapping. Anyone walking on the bus could easily tell whats going on now. His grunts, my pants, the consistent slapping. These were sounds of fucking.

“Fuck me! Yesss!” I don’t recognize myself. He’s awakening something in me. A familiar tinging stirs in the pit of my stomach. If he keeps on, it won’t be long until I explode all over his thick dick.

“Yeah?” He whispers.

“Yeah,” I whimper in response.

He goes harder than ever before, his strokes less uniform and more wild. My mouth falls wide open at the intensity and perfect mix of pain and pleasure.

His hips continue to snap against me and if possible I feel him grow harder inside me. His fingertips dig into me so hard I know there’ll be bruises tomorrow.

“Urghh!” A guttural moan erupts from him, urging me to fuck him through his release even as his movements slow. I study his facial expressions and record them in my brain to take home with me as a souvenir. He stretches his neck with eyes shut tightly. That fucking tongue. Whisking out to flatten over his top lip before he bites down on his bottom one. Chest heaving up and down with the muscles in his abdomen flexing with every breath.

“So fucking good,” he says more to himself. He delivers another hard spank to my ass before I feel him ease out of me, hissing slightly at the sudden disconnect and absence of him. The pit of my stomach heavy still with the lingering orgasm that was cut short.

I’ve had sex with guys before and never got to finish. I’d leave unsatisfied and almost regretting the encounter completely. This is different. I’m here for him. I’d fulfill his needs and drain him even if it meant I left with nothing but a wet ass.

The bed creaks a little, letting me know he got up completely. Just when I think the night is over, my mouth falls open at the sensation of his hot mouth covering my entire pussy. His tongue slithers out to graze my distended clit.

“Mm, shit,” I cry out, shaking. I’m so sensitive. Any little sensation sends my body into overdrive. Every lick draws a mini release. When I finally get to the edge I know I’ll fall completely apart. The hair from his beard tickles me, only heightening the sensations. I feel nothing but pure pleasure.

A strong hand comes down on my left ass cheek and I whimper on impact. He squeezes it in a firm gip to move me up and down in a steady rhythm on his flattened tongue.

“Oh, fuck yeah,” I cry. I let my head hang down unable to keep it up any longer. All I can do, feel, and think about in this moments is how good he feels to me. Guys my age always need a crash course on how to eat pussy. Always too much spit, they couldn’t find my clit, or the torturous shaking of the head like a rabid dog.

Roman is eating me like I’m his last meal. Touching spots I didn’t even know a tongue could reach. With the way he’s grabbing me and rocking me on his stiff tongue, he’s damn near fucking me with it. We’re two complete strangers. The power dynamic is completely off. He’s the billionaire WWE superstar and I’m the underpaid and overworked fan in college. Somehow he’s still taking the time to worship my body and give me his all as if he’s the one who has something to prove.

The dick was mind-blowing. Oh, but the head will be the death of me. That same tongue he wags and flicks on live television, exploring me. Tonight is an absolute fairytale. If I didn’t know any better, I would think he could read my mind. He knows exactly what I want and how I want it.

In only a matter of seconds a tornado of heat swirls in my core. I rock back and forth on his mouth before he sucks relentlessly on my sensitive bud nonstop.

“Unnhh!” An uncontrollable shake erupts from me as I see stars. The world goes completely blank for a while as I relish in the ecstasy of my orgasm granted by the Tribal Chief himself. Tonight, I acknowledge him and his mouth.

“Oh my god,” I whisper in between pants coming to my senses. A small laugh leaves my throat at the way I just lost myself in front of him.

I turn to find him in the middle of snatching the cream covered condom off. His big dick bobs up and down from the snatch, fully erect again.

We got one night only.

Like a lioness on the prowl in the jungle, I eye him, crawling to the edge of the king bed where he stands. I stop just in front where my mouth aligns to his thickness, still eyeing him, making sure it's okay. He nods giving me the green light and even holds the base in his strong hand to bring it closer to my lips.

I let a glob of spit form and fall freely on his thick mushroom tip. Before it can drip, I catch it on the underside and lick from tip to base, to the tip again. His hips push forward impatiently.

“Open.” It's not a question so I don’t test him. His face is hard, but his eyes are desperate. As soon as my lips part he shoves himself all the way in like he owns my entire mouth. He draws out and I hallow my cheeks to keep it in as long as possible until I release him with a pop.

“Stick your tongue out for me.” I oblige and he slides his heavy dick across it gathering spit before pushing back down my mouth. A pulse grows in my clit again. A revival from seeing the remains of the mess I made in his thick beard.

“It's so good,” I tell him while slapping it on my tongue for him, earning a groan. The skin of him is soft as he stretches my mouth. I can taste the salty precum and I cant wait for the rest of it. I never trusted a man to release his bodily fluids in me in any way. It kind of grossed me out. Oh, but not tonight. He can release wherever he chooses.

Using one hand to twist in tandem with sucking him, I study every change in his expression, every pattern of his breath to record what feels the best to him.

“Go ‘head,” he urges in a low guttural tone. “Just like that. Take it all the way down. Don’t stop, babygirl.” That’s all I need to hear.

The eye contact is so deep it puts me in a trance. In a constant and fluid motion I take him in and out, making sure he reaches the back of my throat every time. In and out. In and out. In and out. The sounds of spit and his heavy breathing take charge of the room.

His body stiffens a bit and I can feel him get harder on my tongue. Deliberately I take him as far as possible and stay there until I make myself choke. The contracting of my throat around his thick head sends him completely off the rails. He breaks our bubble, throwing his head back to the ceiling.

“Mmm. Aw fuck!” A strong hand grabs a fistful of my hair, making it impossible for me to move. Thick ropes of his warm cum shoot down my throat and all around my mouth. “Ahh,” he groans out with a hiss jerking his hips forward a few good times. “Oh my god,” he blows out a heavy breath and lets his hands rest on his hips.

I’ve made dean’s list, honor roll all throughout high school, medals of all kind from track decorate the walls of my bedroom in my parents’ house. None of those accomplishments compare to the sight I just witnessed. The Roman Reign’s spent and sexually exhausted because of little ole me.

“Let me see,” he whispers while watching me suck the last of it out. I open wide and stick my tongue out so he can see his cum on it. His massive dick jumps at the sight. I feel the warmth of some of it seeping out and running down my chin.

“Don’t move,” he instructs. Like his obedient soldier I stay put, only looking around with one good eye. The other shut tight so none of his cum could invade it.

When he emerges again, he has a wet cloth in hand. Gently but still firm he wipes my face clean of him and my tears that slipped from the intensity of choking. Who knew the Tribal Chief is into aftercare?

A squeal escapes me from being lifted into the air and over his broad shoulder. I’m hanging as he moves us about. There’s no way that any of this is happening.

The shower starts to run. Even upside down I can see the marble walls and waterfall shower head raining down.

“You care about your hair getting wet?”

“No,” I strain to get out with his shoulder digging into my stomach. He chuckles so softly, I would’ve missed it if I couldn’t feel it from being on him.

He fucks me for hours in the shower. My back against the wall. In the air. Face against the tiles. On all fours again. I guess older men carry more stamina. The water cascaded from up top on us both while we locked tongues passionately, breathing in each other’s air.

He was in control the whole time. He flipped me every way he wanted me to go. Told me what to do, never asking. I’m left a wet, quivering mess at the end of it all.

I don’t realize how exhausted I am until he asks if I want to stay the night. I think about getting dressed and leaving, but the bed is impossibly plush and the sight of him naked still is impossibly sexy. Even better than I imagined.

I threw cuddling out the window once I seen his stoic nature and how he moved about earlier like this was just a business deal. He lays in the bed, still naked on his back with muscular arms slightly stretched. I lay on my stomach beside him trying to get comfortable. My heart thumps out my chest knowing he’s still here with me and so accessible. We literally just violated each other in the nastiest way possible and now we lay in bed not even touching.

His heavy breaths and light snore fill the room in no time creating a sort of white noise for me descend to.

Some time in the middle of the night, I don know how, but those light snores ended up right in my ear. His breath hot on top of my head, accompanied by a very heavy arm over my hip.

My heart smiled and my face caught fire. It was so intimate. Undeniably my favorite part of the night. I shifted as quietly as I possibly could, inch by inch, until I was facing him. His bun fell completely apart, leaving his dried and fluffy curls cascading over his shoulders and the plush pillows. I make out what I can in the dark of his sharp features. I never seen him so relaxed. In the ring he’s always tense, always painted with tyranny and stress, but not right now. He almost looked like an angel.

I make a mental image of him. This is exactly how I want to remember him— how I want to remember this unpredictable night. This is the part that even if I could tell it, I don’t think anyone would even believe me. Burying my face into his chest, I breathe deep, trying to imprint his smell into my brain like ink on the skin.

The loud voices of men I don’t recognize, serve as my alarm clock. Eyes still shut, flashes of the night before and the soreness of my body, warp me back to reality. Oh, shit.

I shoot up from the pillow to scan the room, keeping the covers close to my naked chest. His suitcase still stood in the corner, but there’s no trace of him. No water running. His slides are gone. The thick curtain shields me from the rest of the bus.

6:07 AM flashes on the digital clock of the now cleared nightstand.

It's not like I was expecting this grand goodbye. The man didn’t even say hello to begin with. I thought I could at least see him one last good time before I leave LA for good.

I attempt to rise up, but something crinkling under my palm stops me. I grab the sheet of notepad paper and rub my eyes before reading the contents of it.

Thanks for last night. Joe.

Short and simple. In the corner, two cursive R’s as a signature. I neatly fold the paper and drop it into the pocket of my jeans I find folded on the chest dresser. I want that paper with me everywhere I go. A small piece of the whole experience. A subtle reminder of the best night of my life.

Every part of me wants to feel bad. How could I let him just use me for his needs for a night and then discard me like it was nothing? I should feel low. Cheap. But thats not even the kind of girl I am. The glass is always half full to me. Last night was arguably the best night of my young life. I’ve never known such adventure. I never felt more free—more like a woman.

I flop down in my bed still in a daze from the events of last weekend. Demi had a million and one questions. The NDA kept me from spilling. Even if I could’ve given her a play by play of how the night went, I don’t think I would’ve. Demi and I have the kind of bond thats void of any secrets. But that night with him was so special to me, I want to keep it for myself. Something for just me and him. It makes it more magical when only we know what happened. I just want to soak and bathe in it all.

Light as a feather I stare at my ceiling, letting the flashbacks corrupt me. The feel of his soft skin. The smell of him. His grunts and pants. His hands caressing and gripping my ass. The warmth of his tongue filling my mouth. I blow out a breath getting worked up again. I’ve touched myself countless times since that night to the memory of his voice and his energy. He was just so damn good. So much man and dominance, but still gentle and cautious.

After we touched back down in New York, it was back to reality. But that didn’t stop me from walking on a cloud. You can’t tell me shit. I fucked the Roman Reigns. Drained him and swallowed the aftermath. How’s that for a spring break?

It's currently Thursday. Almost a week has passed since the greatest night of my young life. I just got back from the gym with Demi. She’s pressed me every single day since that night, but I won’t budge. The confines of the NDA keeping me stronger than I normally would be.

Tomorrow is Smackdown at the Garden, but it's unclear if Roman will even be in attendance. He takes so many hiatuses it's really a hit or miss with him. Demi asked if we should go, but I declined not wanting to spend the money I didn’t have just for him not to even show.

A sudden dread came over me knowing that he couldn’t possibly be thinking of me even half as much as I’ve thought of him. He’s overridden my mind. I’ve obsessed over every little detail and played it back a thousand times, while he doesn’t even know my name.

Paul said it himself. He likes the comfort of company while he’s on the road. All the times he has to travel for work, cameras in his face nonstop, and body aching from all the physical exhaustion, I’m sure he always has to release the tension somehow. I’m just one of many.

I knew that going into it. I know I’m not special, but I tried my hardest to be. I did what I could to make him remember me. Constant eye contact, carrying out his every command, throwing this ass back as hard as I could and sucking the soul out of him.

A violent buzz of my phone snaps me out of my daze. I feel for it on the covers. My eyebrows dent at the message notification from a number I don’t recognize, causing me to unlock it.

Your Tribal Chief has requested your services again.

Sorry for that long ass disclaimer lol. It’s a shame I even have to include that, but I literally watched a girl argue with an author on here about promoting adultery and cheating simply because a character was cheating. Like, it’s a story?? It’s a fictional character?? Don't read it??

If you read it or even just parts of it, I really am appreciative. Pls like or reblog. Feedback is greatly appreciated. Please remember I am an artist…and I’m sensitive about my shit lol 💋

banner credit: @animatedglittergraphics-n-more

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viviarts-c · 1 month ago

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I got to go to uni with my sister and the time she was there was the best time of my uni life so I thought the Stan twins deserve that experience as well😤😤

Here I present part one of my Mystery Trio College AU!!

Loosely based on real life events with my sibling(you get to guess which parts^^

Valentine's Day Special

#gravity falls #fiddauthor #stanford pines #stanley pines #fiddleford mcgucket #mystery trio college au #fiddlestan too but not yet^^#i love this au so much😭 help i have so many ideas

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cozage · 1 year ago

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Coza!! Congrats on your 2K followers. 🥳🎉🥂

I like your smuts and I’m having a hard time choosing what scenarios to request!! I’m so excited for this event you have no idea. May I request for the Option 1? Reaction of Luffy+ Sanji+ Zoro+ Law+ Eustass Kid + Killer to you reading smuts/hentai please? Thank you!!

A/N: Hi :) I wasn't able to do everyone, but I did a few! Minors…OUT! go on! Get! Scram! Also I won’t lie Zoro’s is based loosely off of the funniest comic I’ve seen in my life that stays living rent free in my head Characters: gn reader x Luffy, Sanji, Zoro, Law Cw: smut and suggestive, NO MINORS ALLOWED ON THIS POST PLS GO AWAY Total word count: 900

Scandalous Reading

Luffy

Luffy’s head rested on your shoulder, his eyes lazily skimming the page that you were reading.

“Woah!” Luffy grabbed the book out of your hand and put it up to his face to get a better view of the words. “I didn’t even know this was possible!”

“Luffy!” You reached for the book, but he held it just out of your reach, still reading.

“I didn’t even think about trying-”

“Luffy! Give it back!”

His wide eyes peered over the pages, but he refused to hand it back to you. “Do you like this stuff?”

“I mean-I don’t-I just-” Your face turned beet red at the implication. “It’s just written really well!”

He gave you a mischievous grin and took off back toward his room, book in tow. “Come on!” he called. “I want to see if it really can work this way!”

Oh, you were in for a rough night.

Sanji

“My love, did you-” Sanji stopped, his eyes fixated on the book cover you were reading.

“Sanji?” you prompted, trying to get his attention.

“I know that author,” he mumbled, mostly to himself. “Where do I know that-”

“You probably don’t!” You slammed your book shut and shoved it behind your back. “What did you need?”

“Oh! Right! Would you like gelato or ice cream?”

“Surprise me!” you said, trying to get his mind off the book. “I’m sure whatever you make will be amazing!”

Sanji was in the kitchen when he finally placed it, and he almost collapsed from the realization of what he had caught you reading.

He brought you out the finest gelato he had ever made and set it down next to you. “So, my love,” he said, trying not to sound too excited. “How is your book?”

“It’s good,” you said. You set it down to grab your gelato, and Sanji lunged for it.

He skimmed the pages, confirming his suspicion, and tried his hardest not to pass out from the filth his eyes found. “You’re reading book porn!” he whispered sharply. “You always get on me for staring at-”

“That’s not the same,” you hissed. “These aren’t real people! It’s different!”

“It is not!”

“What am I supposed to do!?” you snapped back, glaring at him. “You’re busy in the kitchen, I have to entertain myself somehow during the day!”

Oh, that was a bad way of wording things, because the second the words were out, Sanji’s eyes lit up. “Are you telling me you want to do something like this? Because I would love nothing more than to treat you like the royalty I know you are.”

Zoro

“What are you reading?” Zoro asked, looking at your book cover.

“A book.” You tilted the book slightly to shield him from seeing any of the words.

“What’s it about?” He seemed strangely interested in the cover. “Swordmaking?”

Oh right, there was a sword on the front cover of the book. No wonder he was so interested in it.

“It’s called Swords and Snakes. It’s a book about…royalty, love, and betrayal.”

He scrunched his face in disgust and went back to resting his eyes. “Not really my kind of book.”

You grinned. "No, I don't think it is." You set your book down and stood up. “Do you want anything? I’m going to go get a snack.”

“Riceballs.”

You nodded and went to the kitchen to grab food. What you hadn’t been expecting was returning to Zoro staring wide-eyed at the page you had dog-earred.

He looked up at you in amusement, smirking at your anxious body language. “You weren’t joking about love and betrayal.”

“That’s mine!”

“More like love-making and betrayal,” he mumbled. “I didn’t know they wrote books like this. I didn’t know you would read books like this.”

“Well to be fair-” you snatched the book from his hands. “I didn’t know you could read at all!”

“Don’t be too bratty now,” he teased. “Or I’ll give you the same treatment that knight gave the princess.”

Law

You had only left your book laying on the bedside table for a minute while you ran to the bathroom. But damn that Trafalgar Law, he was so nosey.

“Quite the fantasy world you read about,” he hummed as you walked back into the room.

“What do you-” your words died in your throat, seeing him flip through the pages. “Oh, that.” You gave a nervous laugh, striding back over to your bed.

“Yes, this.” He slapped the book shut, peering up at you with such a predatory and lustful look that you almost took a step backward.

“I just picked it up at the last bookstore we went to,” you lied. “I don’t even know what it’s about.”

“Right,” he said, clearly not believing you.

He handed the book back to you, and you quickly grabbed it. “Thanks,” you whispered, unable to meet his eyes.

“Sure.” He stood to take his leave, heading back to the lab. He stopped on his way out, leaning in to whisper in your ear.

“If you ever want to make it a reality, all you have to do is ask.”

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ursemma · 6 days ago

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So long, London. -LN4

Ꮚ Lando Norris × fem!reader.

Summary: Dating F1 driver isn't really easy, especially when you are blue.

(loosely based on some real life events.)

Warnings: angst

Let me know what you want to read next.

You should've known this was going to happen. You and Lando, were polar opposites of eachother in every aspect of life. From upbringing, to personality, likes, dislikes, name one thing, and you'll have different opinions. But that's not the thing that tore you both apart, the real thing that did was your life.

Ꮚლ•

You moved to London to complete your further studies, and you were shocked to find Lando Norris being your neighbour. You weren't much of a cars go vroom's fan, but you knew about him through your friends.

He helped you move in, welcomed you, and was the best neighbour anyone could wish for.

Slowly this turned into a bond which was unbreakable.

But since he joined McLaren, he had to travel across the world, every now and then, and soon your family moved in, because of which the two of you never got personal time to share.

First few years into the relationship were great, but as the time passed, every thing started to fall apart.

You saw the comments under his posts regarding his girlfriend, your family starting throwing tantrums regarding your grades and career and soon became financially unstable, your brother started struggling to get a job, your bestfriend moved to a different city.

Due to these things loneliness crept in and everything became unbearable. Every day you woke up to fighting, tauntings and yellings, and as the days passed by the comments kept circling back and forth through your head.

Oh my god, even tho magui and him are doing an ad they look soo good together.

He should totally date her.

She's so pretty and matches his vibe, and aesthetic.

And due to the increasing distance you both never really spoke on such topics, also you did not want to bother him with your stupid problems.

And one day it suddenly hit you, you can't do this anymore. You can't pretend to happy, bcoz the entire 'fake it till you make it' is not working. Your family was a shit hole, a mess, a tangled knot that couldn't be solve anymore. You weren't doing fine, you needed someone.

You called Lando hoping to finally tell him everything, you called once, you called twice, but no one answered the phone, and then you decided it was the last time you'll call, the minute you were going to loose the hope he answered

LN: hello?

You: I wanted to talk to you

LN: um I'm actually quite busy, can I call you back later?

You heard the loud music, and yelling in the background, and frowned.

You: you're at the club?

LN: yeah, how about we talk later on?

You: But we haven't spoken since a week Lando, I really need to speak to you

LN: I know darling, but I can't talk to you in the club you know? I'll call you back, promise.

After hearing it, you hung up and signed loudly.

You waited and waited but there were no messages, or calls. Soon you realised that talking to him was pointless. He wouldn't get it. He was raised with love being fed from silverspoon, he has a nice, loving family, money, and everything you could only dream of. Also it's not like talking to him would change anything.

The more you thought the more unbearable it became, how could you tell him about this? The situation? Your family? How could you bring him into this mess? If tomorrow you get married, what would be think of this? You don't deserve him. His love. His family. Because you both are so different, it's not working out now, and it won't in future. So you decide to let him be free, and you slept crying on you pillow.

Ꮚლ•

A week passed by, and he finally called you,

LN: hello?

You: hello

LN: you wanted to talk?

You: yes

LN: I'm free right now so yeah go ahead

You: I think we should break up

LN: what?! Why?!

You swore you could hear the shock from his voice

You: it's not working out Lando

It took alot of courage to spoke those words.

LN: is it because I didn't call you frequently? I swear I was busy with training, and media stuff, the night I went to the club only because max forced my team to let me catch a break, I swear I'll make time for you just, please let's not breakup.

You could hear his voice breaking, and felt a sudden pain in your heart, but you knew it's for his betterment. He'll find someone else.

You: No Lando, it's not because of that, I mean part of it yes, but it's on me, I can't do long distance like this. It feels horrible not being able to love you openly, or come to your matches because of my family, and school, I can't be the ideal girlfriend to you.

You didn't speak the whole truth, but didn't lie either, your heart pained as those words came out of your mouth, and you could hear him breaking apart, and crying.

LN: we can try tho? Just for the time being, once you graduate, you can be with me, we'll travel the world, I'll take you to each and every circuit, you'll be in my jersey, I'll show you off proudly, please just wait?

You: I can't Lando please.

LN: you made up your mind?

You: yes.

LN: there's no changing? I- I really can't change it?

You: yes, you can't

LN: ok- okay.

You: I'm sorry

LN: I'm sorry too, for making you feel this way, that you can't be loved openly, but trust me, you're worth everything, and there's nothing more in the world I want aside from you. If you ever changed your mind, you know I'll be waiting for you. I love you.

You: I'll keep that in mind, I love you too.

LN: maybe next time.

You: maybe next time, goodbye Lan.

LN: goodbye my love.

As you hung up, tears flooded through your eyes, and your breathing became heavier, soon you started to gasp for air, as you felt a creeper tightening it's knot around your throat, and soon enough you fainted.

Ꮚლ•

Days went by, and you were helping your family packing the stuff, and suddenly you heard a familiar voice in your front porch.

You saw him speaking to your mom.

"you're... Moving out?" You heard him ask your mom with a fallen face, and frown hoping for it to be false.

"yeah, I thought she told you?" Your mom spoke, her facial expression clearly hinting that she's suprised.

"actually it's my fault, I've been too busy you know" you heard his voice becoming heavy as he spoke those words, but he quickly concealed it by asking another question, "do you mind if I ask why?"

"oh not at all dear, it's just the family is suffering financially alot, and we can't afford to pay the rent, so we're moving out to somewhere cheaper."

"is it in London?"

"no, we're going to different city."

You heard silence, and after a pause, with a heavy voice he spoke, "oh.., well let me help you"

You saw him helping your mom moving the boxes, like it's completely natural. Soon your eyes met, and you moved away, trying to hide the redness, and swollen eyes.

He took a step towards you, but your mom called your name, and you rushed towards her avoiding him.

"why don't you talk to him, for the last time?" Your mom spoke while getting in the car, and shutting the door.

You both stood infront of each other, heavy silence clung to the air, which was soon broken by him.

"why didn't you tell me?"

"why bother? " You didn't mean to sound harsh but somehow you did.

"so you think I don't deserve to know?"

"no it's just.. look you deserve more okay? More than what I can give to you."

"have you ever thought that I want you?" He wanted to scream, shout and stop you, he wanted to tell you that don't leave, don't go away, most importantly don't give up.

"look what's done is done, we can't undo it, so let's just keep things that way, I don't want you to get tangled in my mess, and also you'll find someone."

With that you walked away. Leaving him stranded. He watched the car fading into the background, he don't know why, but he wished you would look back, turn around, giving him a hope that you two will meet in future, that you're not giving up on him, but you didn't. Instead the entire ride you were looking out of your window wondering what future holds for you, wondering how your life changed.

Reminiscing about everything thing that you've been through, you let out a heavy sigh.

So long, London.

#lando norris #lando norris fanfic #lando norris fanfiction #lando norris fluff #lando norris smau #lando norris x reader #lando norris x you #lando #fanfic #ff #lando norris angst #formula 1 x you #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 #formula one #formula #mclaren

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jointherebellion215 · 1 year ago

Text

Flowers

Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x female!reader

Summary: You're living a perfectly content life on Geidi Prime with your husband. It's a shame your mind can't rest, sparked by glimpses of a life unknown. Loosely based on the song from Hadestown.

Word Count: 1.5k

TW: Dark!Feyd-Rautha, Dead Dove Do Not Eat, yandere!Feyd-Rautha, manipulation, gaslighting, like SO much gaslighting holy shit, descriptions of violence, abusive relationship, emotional abuse, isolation, tragedy, nonconsensual drug use, nonconsensual medical treatement, induced memory loss, amnesia, dubious consent, pregnancy, songfic, happy-but-not-really-happy ending, I know I said female!reader but there's virtually no pronoun usage or descriptive words in thisfor the reader besides titles so maybe GN!reader??

A/N: I'm blown away, almost 500 notes on His Kiss, the Riot? Holy shit, all of the thanks! Here it is, the final part! I'm ending it with the song that actually started this whole idea. Listening to Eva's interpretation of Eurydice singing Flowers gave me the most delicious, fucked-up bit of inspiration and this came out. I was clutching my own metaphorical pearls writing this cause damn, this gets dark. Like, way more than I thought I could write. Anyways, I hope you enjoy the end of this twisted tale. Thank you for reading! As always, I appreciate you taking the time to like, comment, and reblog.

Read Part One and Part Two

AO3

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the Dune properties, characters, or storylines-- nor do I own anything related to Hadestown. The images used in this are not my own, and any similarities to stories or events other than what are directly referenced are strictly coincidence.

Lily white and poppy red

I trembled when he laid me out

“You won’t feel a thing,” he said, “when you go down”

Nothing gonna wake you now

Drops of blood.

A wicked, black smile.

“You won’t feel a thing.”

You wake up with a gasp. Your doctor had warned you about dreams like this. They weren’t real, just an aftereffect of your accident.

The medical staff for House Harkonnen had been gracious enough to inform you of your predicament. When your family had recently hosted the Harkonnens, you quickly met and fell deeply in love with the na-Baron Feyd-Rautha. Your love for each other was so intense that you had demanded to get married right away. Your father disapproved of the union, so he disowned you and banished you, demanding to never see you again.

On the journey back to Geidi Prime, a stray asteroid hit the ship and caused you to hit your head. Feyd had apparently worried for your life, which saddened you and warmed your heart. It was nice to know that someone truly cared for you. However, your mind wasn’t quite the same afterwards. Your life before Geidi Prime was completely unknown to you. Your memories were in a fragile state.

That was just a few months earlier. Unfortunately, your mind has not yet recovered your memories prior to the accident. You were diligently taking a specially brewed tea that would calm your mind so it wouldn’t fracture under the immense pressure to try and fix itself. When you asked how long it would take for you to recover, your heart cracked when they said that it may take the rest of your natural life.

While it broke your heart to hear of your father’s dismissal of your feelings, you believed that you were strong enough to carry on. Having no further ties to your home world made it better to settle in with your new family.

You are a Harkonnen now.

Now, your footsteps make the quietest of echoes as you traipse down the narrow corridor. Heads of nearby servants and slaves bow, and eyes snap to the floor as you pass by. You feel the barest of sympathies, for not being allowed the simplest of human connection with their na-Baronness. But it was paradise considering the consequences should anyone ever feel bold enough to try otherwise.

Your husband wouldn’t allow that.

Dreams are sweet, until they’re not

Men are kind, until they aren’t

Flowers bloom, until they rot and fall apart

“Can I not have a single friend on this planet?!”

You burst into your shared chambers, rage rushing through your veins. All you had wanted was to have lunch and tea with one of the few female palace advisors you had taken a liking to. Maybe share a laugh or a story. Make a connection outside of your new family. That was all ruined when Feyd barged in and gutted your companion, stomach-to-throat, while she sat in her chair.

You were sure that your shoes had trailed blood down the hallway, but your mind was focused elsewhere at the moment.

“What use would you have for friends? I am right here.” He closed in on you, grasping your arms and forcing you to look in his direction. “Am I not enough for you? Do I not give you everything you should ever desire?”

His hands tighten around your wrists, making you flinch. A stray tear falls from your eyes, guilt starts to overcome your anger.

“No, not at all, husband! You have given me everything I could have wished for and more,” You wrench your hands out of his grip and grasp his face. He showered you with gifts, never let you go hungry or thirsty and this is how you repay him? “I just… I didn’t think you would want to hear me talk about certain things. I don’t mean to sound ungrateful.”

“I know you don’t, my darling.”

You take a deep breath as you feel the tension in the room start to settle.

“Your mind is already fragile from the accident… I just want to keep you safe.”

Safe. That was the key here. He takes step back and retrieves a small dagger from his belt.

Feyd holds it up, showing you the weapon. “Did you know that your friend had a blade dipped in poison strapped onto her person?”

You can feel the blood rushing from your face. No. You didn’t know.

“I-I didn’t see a knife on her. She couldn’t have-“

“She did.”

He drops the blade and leans in closer to you, forehead aligning with yours. “There are people out there who seek to harm you, who seek to harm me through you. I can never let that happen.”

You nod furiously. You couldn’t believe that you had been so stupid.

Trust is unbelievably hard to come by in the Galactic Imperium. Your few months’ worth of memories can even attest to that. It seems that the only people you can truly rely on is family.

“I only want what’s best for you.”

You understand now.

Is anybody listening?

I open my mouth and nothing comes out

Another argument discussion had emerged from your telling of your latest dream. Your husband was convinced that you were entirely too exhausted to put any stock into what your subconscious was telling you, but you thought otherwise.

Fingers run through a patch of bright pinks, yellows, and blues—

“I swear to you, it felt so real! It was almost like a memory, like something I-,” A firm hand is placed on your shoulder as you give a slight stumble. Feyd puts a hand on your back, leading you to the edge of your bed, setting you on the bench that was placed against the footboard.

“Please, have some of your morning tea, my darling. You look a bit peaked.” You accepted the cup he gave you, settling down and taking a few sips of the warm, spiced drink. Your mind instantly calms, anxieties evaporating from your body like puffs of smoke. Never mind the memories that you had just… Floating.

Your husband is now on one knee in front of you, arms encasing your body, as his hands cup your face. He brings your eyes to meet his, seemingly searching. For what? You do not know.

“What were you saying about this dream of yours?” A pause reverberates throughout the room as your head tilts in confusion.

“My…?” You stutter, mouth opening to complete a thought that was no longer entirely there. “I can’t quite remember. What were we talking about?”

Your husband gives a smirk, analyzing your face once more before placing his hand on the dark fabric covering your swollen belly.

“Nothing of import. It seems that my heir is set on scrambling your thoughts.”

There seemed to be nothing in this world that brought more joy to Feyd-Rautha’s face than the sight of you and his unborn child. He’s more protective of you now than ever, having guards always posted near you, having you wear a shield during all public appearances. Not to mention, he was damn near insatiable in private. His hands and mouth are practically dragged away from you and your growing stomach every morning.

You give a chuckle. “I’d heard about pregnancy brain before, but never knew it to be this taxing! Perhaps I’ll take a walk later if I’m feeling up to it.”

Feyd gives your cheek a soft pat before rising to his feet, “Rest, my darling. I shall check in on the both of you later.” His hand rests next to yours, giving your belly a quick rub before he walks towards the door.

Your head goes to set on your pillow, the warmth from the tea running through your body. You must be really tired, since you fall asleep so quickly.

Quick enough to not hear the deadbolt lock clicking from the outside once the door is closed.

Flowers, I remember field of flowers

Soft beneath my heels

Walking in the sun, I remember someone

Someone by my side, turned his face to mine

The dreams start to encroach your mind while you are awake. You continue to follow your doctor’s instructions: take your daily tea, rest often, don’t overexert your body or your mind. But, ever persistent, they push through, finding parallels with your daily life to latch onto.

A hand, gently enlaced with yours, guides you through a meadow—

You husband’s hands lead you to stand with him by his uncle’s side, preparing for another ceremony.

A laugh, familiar and warm—

A chilling cackle of laughter reaches you in your viewing box, watching your husband gleefully slay another adversary in the arena.

Bright, yellow sunlight caressing your face and neck—

The black sun of Geidi Prime pulses in your periphery as you wave to a crowd below, your husband standing stoically next to you.

A kiss, given freely—

Feyd ravishes you in your chambers, lips melding together with yours.

My darling—

My love—

My darling—

“Is everything alright, my darling?”

You blink, snapping back to the present. Pale, smooth skin and blue eyes, your husband extends his hand towards you. Safe. He gives you everything. You and your child will never struggle or suffer with him. You are safe with him. Aren’t you?

Blood splatters over a patch of bright pinks, yellows, and blues—

You give a bright smile.

If you ever walk this way

Come and find me lying in the bed I made

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algae-tm · 9 months ago

Text

KILL BILL P.6

Charles Leclerc x famous singer! reader

Warnings : morally grey reader, toxic exes

Author’s note : There are so many x readers where the reader doesn’t do anything wrong, which I love don’t get me wrong but I wanted to write one where she’s a bit flawed. And obvs I cannot hate her cause she’s just in love and this is lossely (very loosely) based around real life events y’all so I get it! And also I love Alex 😭 I was gunna make her the villain but I literally can’t! So this is going a bit of a diff direction, in terms of ending. - Algae 🌱

•••••

INSTAGRAM

y/bff/n

liked by lewishamilton, oscarpiastri and 678,798 others

y/bff/n : talking about boys over brunch? (tagged : yourusername)

yourusername : feels like I’m 18 again

— user3 : holdup when did y/n and Charles get together?

— user4 : she was 18 and he was 19/20…

— user5 : lmao that’s why he’s got her wrapped round his finger… poor baby hasn’t known any better

— user7 : not you guys acting like Charles groomed her be so serious! they have a 1 and a half year age gap touch grass.

— user9 : you can’t argue with people like this, they’re so chronically online!

— user4 : so how did they meet?

— user19 : google is free!

— user6 : her and Lewis did a fashion campaign when she was 16, and he sort of took her under his wing, cause I think her parents were a bit... I believe she then met Charles when she came to watch a race and watched the f2 race as well.

user1 : y/n telling you about how she’s a slut?

— y/bff/n : only ever having been with 1 man equals slut?

— user1 : going after a man with a girlfriend surely does.

lewishamilton : we love to see it

— y/bff/n : we sure do 😍

— yourusername : not you guys acting like I was dead in a ditch…

— y/bff/n : you were in man purgatory, it’s basically the same thing.

user11 : does Oscar know y/bff/n?

— user12 : No why?

— user11 : cause bros lurking in the comments

— user1 : lmao you think the skank’s gunna go for him next? (user1 has been blocked)

— user13 : @oscarpiatri trust you do not know how to handle @yourusename

— user11: poor baby she’d eat him alive

user13 : oh to be a fly on the wall for the Charles convo

user14 : trust it was hours long

INSTAGRAM

yourusername

liked by lewishamilton, danielricciardo, carlossainz55 and 10,987,843 others

yourusername : boys are awful and grotesque. i had to decompress on an island to get the crazy out of my brain. it’s a good thing mics are portable. Thank you Ephraim! My concierge for finding me a keyboard so I could get you guys this song that entered my brain almost two weeks ago and refused to leave. It’s a good teaser for my album, which is out in TWO days. so without further ado hope y’all like The Weekend!! if you don’t like it I’ll cry.

lewishamilton : oh this gives context to the unhinged messages you sent me at 1 am

— yourusername : I’m an artist, it’s my creative process

— lewishamilton : well this is way more constructive than turning up in Monaco

— user5 : oop- not you clocked by Lewis Hamilton of all people

— user7 : well I’m happy that Lewis doesn’t condone the behaviour of a slag

— user8 : lmao even her friends are getting tired of her

— user9 I think y’all are forgetting that they were together for six years, it was y/n’s first relationship, he dumps her out of the blue gets a new girlfriend within months. I for one would also go a bit crazy and need to be secluded on an island! Too bad I don’t have island money lmao

lewishamilton : I’ve been listening non stop! You truly out did yourself kid 🖤

y/bff/n : thank god you are not in Canada rn

y/bff/n : i was having a heart attack!

y/bff/n : you need to tell me before you travel across the world! We cannot have a repeat of last time.

— yourusername : have I really traumatised you that badly?

——y/bff/name : yes

—— lewishamilton : yes

—— yoursiblinguser : yes

—— friend1 : yes

—— danielricciardo: yes

—— oscarpiastri : yes

——yourusername : now hang on @oscarpiatri I don’t even know you!

— — oscarpiastri : wanna change that?

——- user11 : not you going after your dad’s ex

——-user14 : about to be a messy family reunion

——-danielricciardo : check that Aussie charm 🇦🇺

user7 : okay someone please talk about the lyrics????? Right off the bat it’s unhinged?? “WHY YOU WANT ME WHEN YOUVE GOT A GIRL??!” No cause that is so true like @charles_leclerc why are you still contacting her when Alex is right there?? (Liked by yourusername)

— user8 : ‘knowing it’s selfish, knowing I’m desperate’ oh she’s DOWN BAD!!

— user7 : you get it… cause DESPERATE, you’re describing yourself as desperate?? Bad bitch down in aisle 4 I fear!

user9 : lmao no cause you’ve outdone yourself! What do you mean ‘my man is my man, is your man. Heard that’s her man too’

— user21 : no cause she really is not a serious individual 😂

— user10 : the song is a bop don’t get me wrong but am I the only one who’s thinking about Alex in all this??

— user11 : poor girl hasn’t done anything apart from like a serial monogamist…

— user12 : I mean after this release Alex just needs to count her losses and leave him (liked by alexandrasaintmleux)

— user13 : oop- not her liking… clock it! But at this point I think this is just a messy situation where everyone’s gunna lose. Especially Alex poor girl never stood a chance

user22 : I just keep him satisfied through the weekend!

— user23 : you’re like 9 to 5 I’m the weekend!!!!

— user24 : make him lose his mind every weekend!!!!

sza : please god never let me be this down bad over a man 🙏🏾

— yourusername : now I know you’re not the one talking 🤨

badgalriri : 🖤

donatella_versace : DONATELLA VERSACE 💜

user17 : release the album NOW!

user18 : I��m sorry but weren’t we just mad at her? Releasing a song doesn’t make you automatically in the right? In fact even the song paints her as a bit of a villain :( I can’t imagine poor Alex listening to it.

— user19 : right? She’s practically begging him to cheat with her

— user15 : i really don’t know how to feel about the whole situation but it’s definitely not a good feeling…

••

TAGLIST

@forevercaffeinated-lee @callsignwidow

#charles leclerc smau #f1 smau #charles leclerc x black!reader #charles leclerc x female reader #charles leclerc x reader #formula 1 smau #f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #formula one smau

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badlywritingmagazine · 5 months ago

Text

Wanna help a by-and-for transfem journal?

Wanna get involved?

Thank you everyone for your interest so far! If you have a sec, I’ve written a quick post about a few ways you can help.

Lili Elbe, painted by Szív királynő, serving “journal reader” realness Do you have trans female mates?

Let your girl friends know. Share it amongst your networks.

Can you read?

Wonderful. Subscribe to this substack to be notified when an issue is released.

Can you think?

If you’re a trans woman and you have feelings about something, send it to us. If you’re developing an idea, come chat with us over email (or arrange a phone call) and let’s figure it out together.

Do you sell books and zines?

Wonderful. Email me. Stock it. Perfect. I can also send you a poster version of our invitation to submit to print out.

Have you written?

If you’re a trans woman who writes about things relevant to our lives, send it to me. If it is online and you worry that it won’t stay up forever, it’s affecting your job and life prospects, or that it is a reflection of its time and not 100% wise anymore, send it to me and get it archived. Archiving is part of the goal here. We’re not uncurated, but that doesn’t mean you should shrug and let the internet, time, transmisogyny and linkrot eat your hard work.

If you’re a trans woman with jobs and obligations and you don’t like having your essay ‘Why dickgirls should commit more assassinations’ or ‘transgender materialism: towards a de/coterminous understanding of post tipping point transmisogyny’ or whatever attached to your name then send it to me and get it re/published under a pseudonym.

If we get a large number of submissions like this we will publish it as a separate supplement, but else it will come as a section within WBM.

Do you know grants?

Rates for unfunded zines and pamphlets suck. We want to pay the women well. Let us know if you know of funds or grants you think we fall under. We’ll be sending off applications.

Can you help us host a launch party in a major city?

We envision low-cost evening events with discussion, trans women, and piles and piles of essays to talk about. (Can we crash on your couch?) We’re based in the UK, but are happy to come anywhere Ryanair goes where there’s a willing audience.

Got an idea I don’t have?

Ultimately, I want to keep this dirt simple. Essays come in, paper goes out. No columns, shite graphics. Couple core editors. Schedules loose enough to spend half the year depressed and still get it out. Stolen printer paper. Something that won’t collapse after two years. Posterity.

That said, if you have an idea (and maybe if you want to do it), email us. Think you know enough people to get this translated and shipped somewhere else? Can you translate and know of a non-English language transfeminist text that’s not got much attention in the anglosphere? Maybe we can submit an application for a grant and distribute your translation? Understand distribution better than me? Do you have the wherewithal to manage a personals board? Something else? Anything except an agony aunt section. I’ve called dibs on that one.

Do you have agonies? Issues? Want bad advice?

Write to the agony aunt. writingbadlymag snail symbol gmail dot com.

Do you have something to say which won't make a whole essay but is still worth saying?

Write a letter to the editor. Same email.

Addendum: Can you help us set up a website?

Websites we think are beautiful are dirt simple. Low-tech Magazine has a beautiful low-energy website. Filmmaker Margot McEwan has a lovely fitting website. Any thoughts or suggestions should be sent to the same email.

(update: we're all set now! Check out badly.press!)

See a good stack cutter?

If you see a cheap paper stack cutter for cheap, let me know. :)

Thanks all!

Forthcoming posts: information for writers, extracts from the issue.

#transfeminism

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driftwithme · 1 year ago

Text

I love that Guillermo del Toro didn't want Pacific Rim to be all about the military, so he ended up giving the PPDC ranks based on cowboy imagery: ranger, marshall, etc.

It makes me think about some of the most beloved characters by the narrative are the ones who rebel agonist the military way of doing stuff: characters like Newt and Raleigh for example. Because well, characters like Mako and Hermann are rebellious but only due the influence of Newt and Raleigh -- and characters like Herc and Chuck seem to be rebellious in parallel to Raleigh too, like some contagious virtue on the loose.

It's palpable in two of their most famous lines on the movie: when Newton talks about how fortune favors the brave and when Raleigh tells Mako that in real life you make decisions and you have to learn to keep living with the consequences. Everyone around them looks down at them at some point for being what they'd call reckless, but Raleigh and Newt are aware of the risks, they are not kids. Which is funny because in contrast, they even do that to each other: the perception of the other as a fool of some sort.

And yet, without Newt and Raleigh tendency of disobeying, they'd all be dead and gone.

Without Raleigh insitance on having Mako as his co-pilot and his demand to get G. Danger deployed, the Double Event would had been the catastrophe that ended their last run to the Breach before it started. Without Newt's crazy plan of drifting with a kaiju, they would had perish due the lack or information.

Twice Raleigh piloted solo and twice Newt drifted with a kaiju. In one of those ocassion they had to give a part of themselves that they would never get back (a part of Newt's sanity, Yancy's life). After the first time, both emphasize to Pentecost that they can't do it again. They can, technically, but now they've done it once and it hurt.

Still they do it and it saves the world.

The man who was good for nothing except to hold his own on a fight and the guy who was destined to love fictitious monsters in every universe except that one. In any other world or timeline, Newtom and Raleigh would have been the losers. They were still somehow the losers on Pacrim, a has-been pilot turnes into a builder and a scientist perceive as another sick kaiju groupie. They weren't disciplined like the others yet they were a bit obsessive, they were the sort of ambitious that makes people doubt, stubborn and arrogant in their convictions, totally unapologetic in knowing themselves.

Sure, they have to pay the price in double, but at the end of the day, they are champs of fortune: they do the impossible and survive to tell their stories, breaking every rule and winning the faith of those around them.

#pacific rim #pacrim #pacific rim 2013 #pacrim 2013 #raleigh becket #newton geiszler

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r3starttt · 8 months ago

Text

BIRDS OF A FEATHER

- request | dina - ellie - abby x reader

cw: no mention of any past/canon relationship or detailed events. all hc's are sfw. Abby's hc's are considering she'd stay at WLF base. Ellie's and Dina's hcs are considering they'd stay at Jackson.

ABBY

𐙚 After her dad’s loss, she definitely became more attached to people that were special for her. It was a matter of days after she met you, she had already convinced herself you'll be her biggest priority for as long as she could keep you close if not forever.

𐙚 It started with small acts of service, nothing beyond abby being friendly towards you because how could she not when you've proved endless times you care about her, you're someone she can genuinely trust. Whenever you met she'd take her time with you, chatting about anything, inviting you to have lunch together, doing small exchanges of clothing, food, movies, anything you can think about.

𐙚 That until she invited you over, asking probably the first favor ever to Manny. Who definitely didn't doubt on telling the whole crew about you later that day.

𐙚 After ending cuddling with her, talking for hours that seemed endless, getting her to open up about her dad and her life in general. You knew she had to be the one. It was a connection that was so real and pure it could almost be palpable. And there was no need to talk about it. It had become a mutual agreement at this point.

𐙚 Those small dates kept on going, until it was basically a need to stay together.

𐙚 Abby did everything from that moment on to keep you near her all the time. Fearing to loose you, fearing if you went on patrol alone it could be the last say she'll see you, or fearing she might not come back one day.

𐙚 However that never happened. Not even one day passed by without her on your side. It would be a lie to say none of you were ever at risk, but both had the luck to keep moving, surviving.

𐙚 At one point it was indeed painfull the idea of not being able to make a family on your own, yet the idea was briefly lost by the realization you two had more than that, not only because you were healthy and had friends growing along the two of you, but also because you two would always have each other.

𐙚 The more you aged the more the bond griew. And there could never be something more beautiful than seeing the woman you've loved most get those shinny white hairs start to grow, seeing her skin become more and more soft, loosen. Her body becoming weaker, more and more vulnerable.

𐙚 The days becoming heavier to go through, the nights of rest and cuddles becoming a need. And you could never imagine doing it without her. Without her pretty eyes that looked deep at you each night, with so much love. Her voice murmuring soft praices at you before you fell asleep underneath her hands, brushing so softly against your skin, your hair. Without her lips pressing over your temple each morning. Without her hugs each time she noticed you tired or troubled, or her existence itself, making sure you never got hurt whenever you had to go on patrol, making sure you never felt like a burden when it started to get harder and harder to move under such situations.

𐙚 Either you decided to stay at the base or search for a secure place to leave the rest of your life's together she made sure you'll never have to worry about how to make it to the next day, next week, month or year. And yes it was teamwork between both, but she needed to make sure you did the easier tasks most of the time.

𐙚 The small 'house' you've made with her had become the most safe place for both. A prove of the love you felt for each other in each shared blanket, each movie placed on the beautiful furniture you've exchanged some years ago with a friend. Every corner filled with love, calm and pureness.

𐙚 There's gotta be at least a few boxes filled with medicine. Always fresh food. Anything to make sure the two of you get to live in the most comfort possible.

𐙚 Also, each holiday gets celebrated no matter what. She started it, many years later simply asking you if you've ever celebrated Christmas. Later on you where the one planing what to do. All to see her pretty smile. Her eyes filled with adoration. You would always fo anything to see her this happy. Making secret stockings for the both of you. Gifting her the most simple thing that somehow has the biggest meaning for her. Always receiving a bunch of kisses on exchange.

𐙚 The more she ages, the more she realizes she's just like her dad, and the more she realizes the most sensitive she gets. You're always there to comfort her, like you did on the very first beginning, taking her hand on her sleep whenever she had nightmares. Waking her up and offering all kinds of comfort possible even though it was more than enough with your presence next to her. And realizing all this makes the same fuzzy feeling in your heart that you felt that first night you slept on her side. What could you possibly do on this life to deserve aging to her side in such beautifully way?

DINA

𐙚 She did all first moves on you ever since she met you. It was almost impossible to not give in her. The way she looked at you every time you spoke. The way her hands felt so smooth and soft each time she touched you. She easily became the safest place you could ever have.

𐙚 Smoothly and in a very short time, her friends were yours and vice versa. Your family was hers, so was your food, your clothes, anything she or you needed could be shared. And it wasn't ignored nor talked, but you were both very aware of it all.

𐙚 She never doubted you liked her back, but you never said it openly so she feared maybe she'll make a mistake trying to take things further. That until your lips pressed over hers, abruptly. And she knew she'll never let go of you, not after you didn't care that's she was all covered in sweat, not after you didn't care people watching and talking about it.

𐙚 She never was the type to be all the time close to you, but god when she was. Muffled words in between kisses, hands roaming all over your body, her eyes amused each time she met your face. It was pure and real.

𐙚 There would be many nights where she'll take you out, to smoke, talk, kiss, make out over and over again. The closest you would ever be to the typical teenage love you've seen on those movies she'll show you sometimes before you even thought about her romantically. And you loved it, how she tried hard for you to have the nicest time with her every single time.

𐙚 It broke your heart seeing a change on her after some weeks of dating. Which was later changed by fear, confusion, happiness. All at once. She was pregnant. She seemed shocked and you really didn't know what to do. Any choice that ran through your mind didn't include leaving her, and you felt so guilty for making her think otherwise. It's one of the most precious memories you have, that's when you knew it had to be forever.

𐙚 The following months after the new were so weird. Changes everywhere for the both of you. Fears you never imagined you'll experience. A current worry for her, for you even. What would you do when the life she was carrying on her stomach became an actual tangible little thing? Could you manage it?

𐙚 Eventually, she practically obliged you to learn everything about how to work as a family, as a mom as insane it would sound at that age. And even though you never actually felt ready, the moment you chose the name, the moment you saw that little baby, the moment you heard him, it all changed. You really couldn't wait to not only grow with dina on your side, but to grow with your baby, to see them grow together and learn together. To leave a legacy that could grow with tender and love in such world.

𐙚 And that's how it happened. At first staying in Jackson to have support until needed. To get enough recourses and an established safe place to grow the three of you in peace. Ever since you met dina she shared with you how much she wanted to have her own little farmhouse, and the more you saw JJ grow up the more you knew it had to be your reality as soon as possible. The chance to have a quiet life with your family. Such a big privilege you were dying to achieve.

𐙚 And even though it took you a while, you made sure it happened just as Dina wanted it to. Not to far from Jackson but far enough to get your own privacy. The whole decorating process mostly made by her. All to see her happy, to make her dream come true.

𐙚 And just as you did with that very first house in Jackson, you worked day and night to make it comfortable. Secure. A place where JJ could grow up free, as loved as possible. Dina did everything to make the most beautiful room a baby could ever have, the most comfortable room for the two of you, with a bunch of peaces that screamed your names. Like blankets with your and her favorite color, curtains with a flowery pattern that remind her of you. The plush you got for her at a small fair in Jackson placed on JJ's crib, her favorite books placed on a small table near his crib so she could read them to him when he grew up. Every detail on that house made for the three of you to enjoy the best life possible.

𐙚 It was insane to see this part of her. Growing each day within her. How she sang quietly each night to put him to sleep, how she then came to your arms, cuddling as if you were about to run from her embrace. Seeing her smile each morning when you glanced at her after hearing some soft mumbles, realizing they were already awake. Or seeing her tired eyes asking you to take care of him if it was too early for her. It brought you so much joy to see how much he looked like her. How her giggles resembled so much to the laugh escaping her pretty lips whenever she was happy. You didn't think it was possible to love more than one person this much.

𐙚 Both of you took each other’s and JJ's birthdays way too seriously. Doing everything to make of it the greatest day on earth. And that eventually became harder and harder. What else could someone want when they have all they could ever dream of and more? And god, each year that passed brought the two of you so much nostalgia. Seeing your little baby grow and grow and grow. Your bodies aging with him. Your hairs turning gray and your bodies weak. It always elicted a smile on your face to see her always like the first time you ever spoke.

𐙚 It was a constant of compliments. How pretty her hair looked. Her body, her hands her eyes. Always returned with the same love she recieved them. How much she loved having you on her side, how much she adored you being the first thing she saw each morning. How she would always chose you.

ELLIE

𐙚 she put an eye on you the very first moment she saw you, but never really approached you until you had to hang out together since you had friends in common. And even like that, she had a hard time, fearing she might be awkward, suddenly forgetting how someone's supposed to talk to someone new. She still managed to get a good impression

𐙚 Which led to you wanting to hang out more with her. She never denied. And it wasn't necessarily romantic. They were dates in between friendship and something more if possible. Both being a little awkward, mostly because of her. That until she opened up and decided to over share and yap about everything, you eventually did the same.

𐙚 It was a matter of months for you to fall completely for her. She was so simple for a world like this, so gentle with the people she cared. There was something so charming about how she shared her interests with you. How she eventually told you her whole life detail by detail. How it became so easy to open up to her and how suddenly the silence wasn't uncomfortable anymore. It was so sweet to see her pretty eyes looking at you with such hunger of more, seeing how she never did more than just look.

𐙚 That's when you knew you'll have to make the first move. Leaving such tender kiss on one of those dates you've been having for a while. The way she smiled when you stepped back, her sheepish expression and flushed cheeks, her freckles shining more than ever. It was so precious, probably one of the first times you were so conscious about how pretty she was, how there was the most sweet person behind her usual serious facade.

𐙚 After that you practically started to live at her house. Becoming friends with her friends, part of her family. However she never really said anything about it, to anyone. And you understood, knowing how she'd lost so much already, it made sense that she feared that many sharing what you two had so openly would make the rest of people she cared so much about simply leave her side. However she had to talk about it, not being able to ignore it at one point, feeling guilt later soothed by you.

𐙚 That was probably the most and last big conflict you two had. You taught her how to stop being so stubborn, how to be patience. And she simply couldn't hesitate, understanding she didn't need to be so defensive all the time. Finally getting someone she could get some free comfort of, someone she could be vulnerable with without fearing they might leave.

𐙚 On exchange she'll give anything for you, do anything even if you didn't ask. She naturally started to take care of you. Not realizing how much she looked at you whenever you were near, how she'd walk always on your side whenever you had to go patrolling together. Small details that became a thing, a ritual everytime you were with her.

𐙚 And behing those small actions you always knew there was so much more. She didn't even have to tell you, you could know by how she searched for comfort in you, how she'd cuddle with you when she had trouble sleeping, how she'll go and search for you when she was feeling off.

𐙚 Later on you could finally understand. You never really asked about the burn under her tattoo, in fact, too focused on the desfing to even care about whatever was underneath it. You'll never forget her face when she finally shared. The shock you felt, thinking about all those times she pushed you aside to kill for you, understanding it wasn't just her taking care of you but maybe even feeling the responsibility to do so. It broke your heart know the guilt she felt and it took you a long while to properly talk about it with her, to find a way to comfort her, to find a way to make her understand she didn't need to save anyone but herself. Though it was worht, after seeing that look on her face, her pretty eyes shining at your words and your embrace, finding sense in those words for the first time ever.

𐙚 that's what made her think you must be the one she had to stay for the rest of her life. You made her hide that defensive and vengative side of her. For your own good, she felt like being better, do better.

𐙚 She got a small house for the two of you. Still in Jackson, knowing that would be the safest place for both. At first it was messy, your things and her things simply put together wherever they fit. Yet with time it became a real house, a place of comfort for both. All decorated with so much color, the perfect mix of both.

𐙚 as years passed by she simply decided to get comfortable with the whole thing. Staying more at home, with you. Staying hours and hours painting for you. And you adored that, seeing how much you've grew together in each portrait she drew along the years. Seeing how much you meant for her. Her way to remind you she'll always be yours.

𐙚 You saw how hard it was for her to age. How much conflict it caused her to see her body change. The people she saw on herself, on her skin loosening, on her hair becoming clear and clear, more gray each year. And Ellie couldn't be more thankful for having you there always on her side, knowing how and when to give her some space, and knowing when to comfort her, when to remind her how pretty she looked in your eyes.

𐙚 She never really understood how she could end with such life and privilege. Having you on her side, this healthy and old. It seemed unreal. And the fear of loosing you never really disappeared. It was simply replaced by the comfort of your embrace each night, the delicious food you made for her, the warmth of your touch every time you cupped her face, the way your voice was so soothing each time you told her how much you loved her, how pretty she was, how grateful you were for having her too.

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