#no don't trust me i'm still staring

[yesyes-crazyparty]

Stop looking at me with those eyes

What eyes?

📸:Tiia Öhman @tiiaohman

[agentark]

tagged by @aztarion and @agentnatesewell to use this picrew!! 😈

Mason x Rose (wayhaven)

Althea x The Waiter (new fernweh oc reveal lol)

York x Carolina (RvB) ㅠㅠ

tagging @honeylemonbutte @littlemissbumblebee @reesevernerlovebot @kdelarenta and viewers like you 😙

[stellorc]

hello there c:

yes i'm in fact alive, and actually painting a lot (shocking i know!) but nothing is finished yet so please have these sketches. Look at this wonky little guys. I feel weird posting wips bc I never know if people actually like them. Too late now, I'll subject you all to my unborn creations.

Also, ty all for the support folks. I'm terrible at keeping a blog but know that every interaction is cherished <3

[magnusmodig]

rough childhood headcanon qs / @clxscdeyes / no longer accepting !

╰┈➤ 7 . how old was your muse when they realized they had childhood trauma?

||. one whole "today years old" post!ragnarok and hela's reveal. Except, even then, according to the movie, not really because Thor is still in heavy denial about all of it where Odin is concerned. I've spoken a bit (here) about how Thor adores his family; he idolizes them and views them through blinding rose-colored glasses, (especially when they're deceased) and that is especially true of his circumstances.

So, very often times when the truth clashes with the rose-colored view of them (namely: his father), Thor does one of two things: find a way to justify the words or action with the surrounding context of the time to make it make sense (e.g., well he scolded me harshly because i was talking back), or avoid it altogether. (this is his go-to. no talking about it; thor would rather not right now, so he does not.)

Key example being: he would rather focus on how his father changed his ways, and the Odin that he knew and grew up with was a man who had turned away from pursuing war for war's sake, and was instead one who valued peace and life. He would rather focus on that aspect of Odin, and take in the broader picture of Odin's life. REGARDLESS of the fact that what Thor is deeply, personally affected - not with the realization that Odin changed his ways once upon a time - but by the fact that he lied to him, manipulated him, and controlled and shaped every aspect of his being, for Thor's whole life, JUST to avoid another Hela. Someone who Thor is not, could not be farther from, and never knew about, because Odin (apparently) kept the matter of his true first-born a closely-guarded secret and seemingly would have continued to were it not for Odin's death, Hela's escape, and Ragnarok all coinciding at the same moment in time. And this, all because Thor rationalizes it as "well, I wouldn't want to be remembered and judged based on the person that I used to be. I should extend that same kindness to my father, because he too, changed." (x10 because now Odin is dead. And it's in poor-taste to speak ill of a dead man.)

The problem namely being: Thor only talks about things when Thor decides it's time to talk about things ; when he is ready. ...but as this is a topic that ripple effects down to Thor's core, good luck getting him to open up about it, even just with himself.

[your-internet-bf]

It's been a while since you've seen a doctor, and you're nervous as you follow the nurse back to my office. What's there to be nervous about, this is just a little checkup, right? You notice the nurse's manicured burgundy nails as she knocks sharply on the door. She turns to you, smiling prettily, and says, "the doctor will see you now."

You push open the door and enter quite a large room. The nurse follows, closing the door behind you. In the center is the examination table, off to the right is a small crowd of young adults, appearing to be made up of men and women, and on the left is me, seated at my desk. "Welcome," I say, standing and extending one hand. My voice is deep, warm, and smooth, and you fumble for a moment, blushing a little, before you remember to shake my hand. Your hand is dwarfed in mine, my strong fingers encircling you, and a thought flashes unbidden through your mind - what would those fingers feel like inside you? - but, come on now, that's really not appropriate...

"I have a few students with me, as you can see. Is that alright?"

"Well, yes, of course!" Why shouldn't it be?

"Excellent. Now, I'm pioneering this new full-body examination method - it's really quite extraordinary, the maladies I can detect this way - but be warned, it is, shall we say, unorthodox. Is that alright?"

Just for a moment, you see something in my eyes, something behind the genial smile and gentle, reassuring tone. Just for a moment, you feel like some specimen, some piece of meat, pinned down under the lights with nowhere to go... but just for a moment. Surely, nothing bad can happen, and I'm a doctor, aren't I? You can trust me. So you swallow your fear, and you acquiesce.

"Excellent! Let's have a seat on the table, if you don't mind, and we'll make a start. Nurse V, if you would..."

As you sit on the table, the clinical, sterile seating a little cold against your skin, the pretty nurse steps behind the table, facing you, waiting for something. From your right, I approach, and you feel again just how much larger than you I am as my broad shoulders block out one of the ceiling lights. With all these people watching you, it takes all you have not to squeeze your legs together, just a little bit.

We begin with a quick examination of your face - "you have beautiful eyes, you know," I purr into one ear. I place one hand on the side of your neck and tilt your head; god, you've been reading too much, haven't you, the way you want these strong, expert fingers to close around your throat.

"Now, open your mouth for me, please." You oblige, and I cup your chin and slide my thumb into your mouth, pressing down on your tongue. Your eyebrows jump in surprise, and you look at me questioningly.

I smile again, still inside you. "Unorthodox, remember? Now, close your mouth and try to swallow." From behind, the nurse strokes your cheek with the back of one hand, and you feel a sudden ache between your legs. You close your lips around my thumb and swallow. It tastes... clean, mostly, as one might expect from a doctor, but you can taste the sweat underneath.

"Very good, one more time for me."

You swallow again, and you feel me slide my thumb over the surface of your tongue, pressing down, swirling in circles.

"And, one more time... yes, that's it, good job, very good job."

The praise for this degrading task is more than you can bear, and you squeeze your thighs together. Fuck, it's humiliating, everyone just saw you do that... All these eyes on you, the beautiful nurse behind you, this big, strong doctor with these big, strong hands and that big fucking bulge... but no, this is just a checkup, nothing is going to happen, right?

While you were thinking, I dried my hand off and had begun speaking.

"I'm - I'm sorry?"

"No worries. I was saying, can you remove your top, please? We need to examine your heart and your breathing."

You stare at me. "Remove my - "

"Yes, remove your top. The fewer barriers between me and you, the less interference with my examination." My face is quite serious, almost bored - this really must be routine. You look back at the nurse, and she smiles slightly and nods. So you undress, your nipples betraying you, standing at attention. You blush as the crowd of students looks at you intently. The nurse lays one warm hand on your shoulder, slender fingers gripping you reassuringly, and your eyes are drawn once more to those burgundy nails.

I step in close, and you feel my breath warm on your chest. "Now, observe the stiffness in the patient's nipples - this is to be expected, given the cool air, and it's certainly nothing to be ashamed of," I say, smiling. I press my stethoscope up over your heart, the metal cold on your skin, and your mind is betrayed by the pounding of your heart. My eyes flick up to meet yours, and I grin, predatorily, and once again you feel like a piece of meat beneath the lights.

I examine your breasts, starting with your left. Enclosed in my big, strong hands, I squeeze and push, prod and pull, ostensibly feeling for any abnormalities, but the way my fingers brush over your nipples, the intensity with which I sink them into your soft breasts, heaving now as your breath comes faster... My practiced tongue rasps over one nipple and a tiny moan escapes your lips as you try desperately to hide how much you're enjoying this; try desperately, and fail.

Abruptly, I pull back. "Excellent! All seems well here." I rest one hand on your other shoulder and turn to the students. "Note the pleasure response during this section of the examination, and I hope you were paying attention to the oral technique."

I turn back to you, my eyes dancing as they meet yours. "Fully undress, if you would. The inspection must continue."

Your hands tremble as you slide your clothes down off your waist, and the nurse aids you, her lovely hands stroking along your thighs and calves as she does.

"And spread for us, please."

Obediently, your thighs open, exposing your cunt, your needy, aching wetness, to all.

"Note the beauty of the patient's sex, here. The shape of the folds," I murmur, tracing one finger along your sensitive lips, "the balanced ratio of the clitoris to the vulva overall," sliding two fingers on either side of your clit, squeezing gently between them, "the appropriate pleasure response in - "

You lose what I say as I plunge two fingers inside you, powerful and dextrous, knuckles slipping past your tightness easily. It feels so fucking good to finally have something inside you, after all this aching and teasing, and god, so many people are watching, they're all watching your pussy spread and toyed with by this big, strong, handsome older man, and now the nurse's slender fingers are across your throat and her lips are on your forehead, and she tells you that you're doing so well for me, you've been so good...

My fingers press up inside you, finding your g spot, and with my thumb rubbing on your clit, I start melting you. Waves of pleasure course through your body, you gasp, moan, whimper, and with your eyes closed you can't tell whose lips are so soft on yours, but it feels so fucking good, and all those people are watching and it makes you want it more, your back arching, chest heaving, melting under the attention, and finally, mercifully, you cum, contracting around my fingers, squeezing your thighs together, trembling, shaking, gasping for air. You hear me say something, but you're so overwhelmed with pleasure that all you can make out from my speech is "very, very good".

The hand withdraws from your throat, and I gently, gently, extricate my fingers, and settle my hand atop one thigh, fingers slick with your desire.

The nurse whispers affirmation in your ear as I address the class. "Stimulation in this manner, of the two most sensitive sex stimuli, brings the most consistent and powerful orgasms to those possessing these organs." I stroke the inside of your thigh reassuringly, before turning to you.

"The final part of this examination is seeing how well you handle penetration. I'm going to need your unequivocal verbal consent before proceeding."

The nurse leans in and whispers into your ear, "might I suggest 'please, sir, will you fuck me?'" You'd blush harder if you could.

You swallow, nervously, and there's a twisting in your gut as you say it. "Please," you begin, voice cracking. "Please, sir, will you fuck me?"

"Yes, that is sufficient. I must say, though," I warn, unzipping my jeans, "that I am quite large." I slap my cock down on your tummy, and the sheer weight of it shocks you. You've seen size like this in porn, sure, but fuck, you've never touched something like this. When you tear your gaze away from my cock, I'm grinning down at you, predatory again. "You can back out at any time, you know." My voice is low, teasing, challenging. "Should we continue?"

You nod shakily, and spread your legs a little wider.

One hand on your raised knee, one hand guiding my cock, I push against you. For a moment you realize the exam had to be done in this order; if you weren't so fucking wet, there's no chance you'd be able to take me. But all thoughts are blasted out of your mind as I push harder and slide in.

It's so fucking thick that you can't help but groan. You've never felt so full, so strained inside, being pushed in every direction; you're not built for this, maybe there's just too much, your body is rejecting me - and then I push again, another few inches, and you slam your head back against the padded table, a long, drawn-out "fuuuuuck" wrenched from your lips. You feel my strong hands brace at your hips, and with a final thrust, slamming your cervix up into your guts, moving your entire body, the ridges of my cock sliding deeper and deeper, sliding painfully, pleasurably past your walls, I'm inside you.

The nurse rests her hands on you again, and purrs in your ear, "you're doing so well for him, I know it's hard, it's so hard, but you're doing such a good job, pretty girl..."

Glacially, I pull out, allowing you a moment to rest, before thrusting in again, hands still at your waist. You sob once, loudly, and then you sink into it as I pick up a rhythm, deep, deep strokes inside you. You hear me grunting, whispering something, and I grow more frantic, impaling you a little harder, and through the wall of pleasure you hear me rumble, "nurse V, begin the overstimulation procedure."

"Certainly, doctor." She leans over you, lips fiercely meeting yours, and one of those slender hands reaches down to abuse your clit. An image of those burgundy nails on your cunt flashes through your mind as I continue pounding you, forcing you to spread for me, adjust to me, even as the nurse plays your clit like an instrument, and fuck, she's a virtuoso.

You sing a song of moans and voiceless curses under our combined mastery, knowing your audience is entranced, filled with a blazing, lusty pride. The deep bass of my voice, resonant in your skull, is saying something, but you cannot hear me; you're moaning, groaning, pleading, "yes, yes, oh my god yes" over and over...

The song swells to a crescendo and with two sudden strikes, two powerful thrusts into you, it ends with a thick, hot, sticky white wave of my approval inside you. You feel it pulse deep, deep inside, filling you, load after load delivered straight past your bruised, abused cervix.

You come back to reality with my cum spilling from between your legs, trailing thickly down onto the exam table. I zip up my jeans while the nurse helps dry you off, from all the sweat and saliva. She dabs caringly at your mouth, and you notice that the cloth is dyed the same shade as her lipstick.

"Now," I address the class, "I hope you were paying attention." I rest one hand on your aching, trembling thigh. How many times did you cum with me inside you? How long were all these people watching you writhe beneath me, begging, losing yourself in the pleasure? You have no fucking clue. "This patient has bravely volunteered for each of you to examine her, here and now, while she's available to us."

Your jaw drops. When did you agree to that? You would never - but you were begging, "yes, yes, yes" earlier, weren't you, while I was talking. You agreed. Everyone heard you say it.

"One at a time, please. And," I say to you, grinning wolfishly, "don't worry. I'll be watching the entire time."

[pseudowho]

Kento was often quiet, but, swirling his whiskey over dinner, his silence hung heavy with words unspoken. You looked up at him, reading, shrewd.

"...what's up?"

"Hm? Ah, nothing."

"Uh-uh. Out with it, Kento."

Kento put his fork down, his brows furrowing. He plaited his fingers in front of his chin, resting on them.

"Would you...be upset if I had a work wife?"

You chewed, hmmm-ing aloud.

"Well, that depends. Do you think she actually has romantic feelings for you?"

"...no."

"If you talk about me, is she ever disrespectful? Like she wants to replace me?"

"Not at all."

"Do you like her?"

"...yes. She's a good woman."

"Oh, okay. Does she give you secret blowjobs in the storecupboards?"

Kento was aghast, mute with outrage, one hand pressing to his chest, pearl-clutching. You laughed into your pasta.

"Calm down, precious. That's a no then." You put your fork down, taking his hand from his chest, and swirling your fingertips on his palm.

"Then, I'm fine with it. I trust you to put a stop to things if they become suggestive. I know you're obsessed with me, and I know she hasn't got a chance even if she tried anything. Okay?"

Kento still pondered, his skin prickling, his food untouched, and you continued.

"Most importantly, are you upset with it?"

"Yes." He burst out, stabbing his pasta. "It's...disrespectful. Unprofessional. I have one wife, and that's the way I want it to be."

"Then, there's your answer. So stop worrying, eat your dinner, and tell her in the morning."

You continued eating. You felt Kento's eyes on you, calloused warm fingertips stroking your inner wrist, trailing suggestively up your forearm, and your smile grew as you chewed.

"...stop staring at me, Kento."

"No. You're lovely."

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

Around mid-morning the next day, you received a text...and another, and another...and anotheranotheranother, your phone blowing up in your pocket.

"Jesus--alright--give me a minute." You said aloud to nobody in particular, putting your tea down.

You opened your phone to a slew of messages from Gojo, and read them with a growing smile.

Shoko is so upset

Nanamin doesn't want to be her work husband

This is fine for me because I need a work wife and she kept saying no to me

So tyvm

She's my wife now

As you laughed, reaching for your tea again, your phone began to ring; Kento. You answered.

"Hey, lov--"

"Is Gojo texting you?"

Your phone buzzed again, blowing up against your ear, and you snorted with laughter.

"Kento, save her. Save Shoko. You have a duty. Be a good work husband."

"--but I don't want another wife--"

"--and you'd sentence her to Gojo? Kento. She's my best friend."

Silence. A huff. Kento hung up as you laughed. Tapping your phone against your thigh, and biting your lip, you tapped out a message to Shoko.

He's all yours. Make sure he takes a lunch break. He likes the pastries in the cafeteria on Tuesdays but never manages to get one, help him out. If he's grumpy he's probably just hungry. Force him home on time. Good luck.

[grriki]

This made permanent changes to my brain

not you / nishimura riki

synopsis: out of all the people that could've hurt me, i didn't expect one of them to be you.

warnings: angst and angst and more angst, heartbreaks, toxic behavior, mixed signals, cheating, lmk if i missed anything else.

pairing: riki x reader, takes place in college

wc: 14.7k

With your phone alarm going off, you come out of the bathroom, ready and prepared for the day ahead of you. Numbers on the clock tell you that you have enough time to eat breakfast, brush your teeth then head to your first class of the day. When we say breakfast, we mean coffee and maybe toast bread (if you're lucky) because that's the kind of luxury living in a dorm gets you. Roommates aren't always the best thing ever but lucky you, you did not get the shorter end of the stick. Because of Bahiyyih, she was a year above you but that did not matter since you two seem like long lost sisters. She's definitely one of the reasons why you are currently mentally sane.

Unfortunately, she'll also be the reason why you meet the one that will make your college life a living hell and test that sanity of yours. Being close to her means you come along to her brothers' dancing competitions, being at those competitions also means you meeting Nishimura Riki...

Here's the thing, there was nothing wrong with Riki, when you first met the rest of Huening Kai's dance group members; Riki was the most kind and most welcoming. He was someone who you clicked with so easily, someone who presented himself as if he was so trustworthy... emphasis on 'was'. Because right now, the man standing in front of you is reminding you what 'hindsight' is.

It started during your freshman year, after gaining a solid friendship with Bahiyyih; she wanted to bring you to one of her brother's performances for the school's event. You never minded going to them because you enjoyed musical art in your own time as well. When you went to see these events, you only ever looked at the group as a whole, judging their skills and expertise. That was until you went backstage to see Huening Kai. His group just won first place and you went over with Bahiyyih to congratulate them.

That's when your life was going to start shifting because when you knocked on the door, Riki opened the door with a warm smile, and gestured you guys to enter. "Hiyyih, nice to see you again" he says in a sarcastic tone, showing the close-ness he has with Bahiyyih as well.

"Oh Riki, I love seeing you around" Hiyyih responds back with the same kind of sarcasm. "This is yn, be nice". You looked up at him, and geez did that feel like an effort to do since he was 6ft tall, maybe even more than that. He smiles shyly as he notices how cute your height difference was. "Wow, look at Riki boy being all shy, that's new". one of the other guys say, which you later find out it was a senior named Heeseung.

"Leave him alone guys before he becomes beet red" Huening Kai walks in and greets you after. You look back at Riki who was still opening the door, standing in the same spot. "You okay there, bud?" Kai nudges him; getting him out of his trance. "What? Love at first sight?"

There you have it, your little meet-cute with Riki, it is also the day that marks the teasing shipping by everyone that knew you two. But that did not stop Riki from sticking around, it's like the teasing only egged him on to bother you as well. Since that day, nothing could have prepared you for the antics and shenanigans Riki would add into your life. But you weren't complaining.

"What's going on with you and Riki?"

"Are you two dating?"

"Do you like him?"

You felt like you were being interrogated by your friends at the lunch table. Since they saw that Riki treated you for boba tea and cake, also they noticed how he would constantly do romantic things for you, which you had to try your best to explain how you were friends and that he was just a natural gentleman.

"Yeah, cause any guy would go out of their way to get you things in the middle of the night, offer to run errands for you, and buy you flowers just because...why not?" At this point, your friends were setting you up for failure since they were not letting you rebuttal and debunk their theories.

"Guys, I swear...we are just friends." shoving another spoonful in your mouth and rolling your eyes at your friends. Look, you had no issue with the constant teasing and shipping but sometimes they can push it.

"Oh yeah, then why is he coming over with a bag of goodies like he knows you're on your period today?" turning around, and yes, he was coming over to your table with a black plastic bag filled with necessities. "Hey yn, I picked up some stuff when I went to the convenience with the boys." He hands over the bag and you take it with a smile. "Wait, why did you-"

"I just took notice to your cycle-" Riki stops himself when he realized how shocked you looked and maybe started thinking that he was a psycho. "Oh- OH wait...did that sound weird...I'm sorry." soon after, you had to assure him that it was okay and that you never expected it.

After he leaves, you sit back down and face your friends who had a certain look and smile on their faces. Some of them raising their eyebrows at you, like they want to say "just friends, huh?"

"Don't even start" warning them but the look still remains on their face. Again, rolling your eyes and focusing back to eating lunch before you had to drag your feet to your next class.

Guess what? you have that next dreaded class with him.

Later, you're in your usual seat, re reading the notes in case the professor wants to suddenly have a pop quiz. So focused that you do not realize that he already sat next to you. "Do we have an exam that I don't know about?" eyes leaving the notebook to look at him, one bicep on the table, head held by his palm. He's rocking the same hip hop fit and classic smirk.

"Why do you have to stress yourself out like this, relax yn" taking the book out of your hands and closing it. Before you could say anything, he places it on his desk and looks back at you. "There's no pop quiz or exam, the professor isn't even coming to class."

"What if there's a substitute and they give us a task?" chuckling, he looks at the wall clock and gives you an ultimatum. "In the next 20 minutes, if no one shows up, let's get out of here and just hang?" This was nothing new, Riki has always proposed this idea to you but never got to happen. So, you always just say yes.

Usually after he would give the ultimatum, the professor or the sub with walk in. To which you see the disappointment in his eyes as he slumps in his chair, along with a "I hate this class".

But this time, it has passed 15 minutes and no one else but your classmates have entered the room. For those 15 minutes, Riki has been mentally planning on what he's going to do or where he's going to take you if you both do end up leaving. Why was he even nervous, he's been out with you, multiple times...but in groups.

Another 5 minutes goes by and before Riki could bask in his victory, someone from the faculty comes in. You smirk and rub his back jokingly. He looks back at you and sends you a death glare. "You hate me that much? You can't even spend an hour and a half alone with me?" As he starts pouting, the professor speaks up.

"Your professor won't be able to make it in today, he also did not leave any task or assignment, so you are free to go." now the reactions are switched, your smirk fading and Riki's pout turning into a smile.

Now, you find yourself in the newly opened cafe in the campus. With a very happy Riki. "Now that I think about it, you're stuck with me for 4 years, and maybe even beyond that. You know...after graduation." He sips on his coffee and whips out his phone. "What if I move schools?"

"Then I'll just have to follow you there." Taking a picture of the food and while you were looking out the window, he snaps a quick picture. "You look pretty, yn." its times like this where you start to question if your friends were right and maybe Riki has feelings for you, but you think back to his interactions with other females; he pretty much acts the same towards them...but does he call other girl pretty and take them out to more than just friendly dates?

"Riki, can I ask you something?" You couldn't let this live on anymore, you had to get a straight answer from him, getting the answer to this 'what are we' situation you both were in.

"Sure, anything."

"Even if it might change our friendship?" He pauses but bounces back quickly and proceeds to shrug. "It can't be that bad, shoot"

"Do you perhaps...like me? romantically?" Looking straight at him. "I just...I'm getting mixed signals from you and I-"

"I do"

"What?"

"I really do"

From that moment on, your freshman year was occasionally filled with Nishimura Riki.

In the beginning, everything was molded perfectly into your life, nothing seemed to overlap, had a handful academic stress but had resilience. Riki was the addition that you loved. In the beginning.

The first official date happened a week after that talk, Riki decided to go to your dorm room, which was extremely restricted to males, but somehow, he slipped through the wire and convinced you to go on a spontaneous date. He took you to a park and you two had a picnic and played soccer together. It was a fun time, getting to know Riki and him getting to know you on a different level and for a different reason.

The first kiss was when you were at a little group hang out, Riki and his friends separated from you and the others, only to come back with funny disguises; embarrassing you guys by dancing and singing loudly in the middle of the mall and only promising to stop if you kissed his cheek. Which you were going to do but he moved his face so you could kiss his lips.

The first 'I love you' was when it was spring break for freshman year when Riki had to go back to his hometown to visit his family. When you two were saying your goodbyes, you said the three little words.

As the sun dipped low on the horizon, casting a warm glow over the campus, you and Riki found yourselves standing beneath a blossoming cherry blossom tree. It was the last day before spring break, and Riki's hometown beckoned him back to his family.

Finally, with a soft sigh, you looked up at him, your gaze filled with affection and vulnerability. "I love you," you whispered, the words hanging in the air between you like delicate petals.

Riki's heart skipped a beat as he processed your confession, a rush of warmth flooding his chest. He felt a lump form in his throat, overwhelmed by the intensity of his emotions. "I love you too," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper but filled with sincerity.

A little fast forward to second year, you were now both sophomores; still going strong as a couple. It been roughly 8 months since you two got together in February, during your freshman year. Now we stand in September, the very first day of your sophomore year. First day was always nerve wracking for you, no matter what because you have too much to look forward to but also so many things to worry about.

But still, your main focus and priority was still to be on the grind, work your butt off to get high grades, do extra-curricular activities, but still making times for friends and loved ones.

And that's what you made sure to do, months passed, and you were one of the few students who were on the top of their classes but still manage to have their own private life, to others; you make it look so easy.

"Got time for your boyfriend, or no?" Putting down your book and then sitting down next to you, Riki had a pout on his face, giving you puppy eyes. "You seem to like this book more than me these days" continuing to sulk until you give in and give him attention for the rest of the day.

"I just have an exam coming up, that's all." You try to reason but nothing ever seems to work for Riki, "I still reach out and keep you updated though" unfazed, he simple places his face to rest on his palm, still facing you with the same pout and puppy eyes. Sighing, putting down your reviewers and pens, asking him what he wants.

"I'm not taking you completely away from your study time, I know how important this is to you but take a break, let's go out and get some snacks, then we can come back here and I can study with you?"

Now you knew your boyfriend, and this man does not study. But somehow, still gets decent grades, far from a failing one. "You? studying, that's funny."

"Hey, I'm turning a new leaf, I want to match my smarty pants of a girlfriend." Rolling your eyes as you pack your things. After zipping up your bag, Riki goes to carry your bag for you, along with his.

You really felt like Riki was meant to be in your life and you were meant to be in his. The two of you just seemed too perfect for one another, as said by many people in your life. The support, love, and genuine care you have for one another was something you rarely see in college couples. Others tried to find a flaw in you two but somehow, nothing seemed to come to the light. Sure, there were small arguments here and there but even for your first big fight, you both never screamed nor yelled at ech other to get your point across. It was all clear and patient communication to fix whatever caused the problem. It was never you vs him, it was always you two vs the problem.

"Seriously, have you ever seen a more inseparable pair? They're like two peas in a pod!" Kai says while gesturing to Riki and You

"I know, right? I'm convinced nothing could tear those two apart." Hiyyih nods in agreement

"Yeah, not even a tornado or a zombie apocalypse could break their bond. They're like the ultimate relationship goals." Jay laughs as he watched you two from the distance.

"Hey, let's not jinx it. Knowing these two, they'd probably take on a zombie horde together and come out unscathed." Heeseung raises his eyebrows but says sarcastically.

-

"Can you calm down; you're stressing me out!" one of the guys on the dance team takes hold of Riki's jittering self. Clearly, he was under stress and pressure to do well in this event. "Yeah Riki, you'll do great, like always" Kai comes up to him and pats him on the back.

"Yeah, but this time, I have a solo part and what if I-"

"You won't. You're literally a born to be dancer and performer." there you are, what Riki needed right now. Walking into the room giving him the biggest hug you could give him but considering the height difference, you were more like a baby bear to him.

"You've got this, Riki. Just remember to breathe and let your passion flow through every movement."

"Thanks, Babe. I don't know what I'd do without you here."

The emcee's voice echoes through the speakers, announcing the next performance. Riki takes a deep breath, centering himself as he steps onto the stage, the spotlight illuminating his figure.

As the music begins to play, Riki's movements are fluid and graceful, his body seemingly moving in perfect harmony with the rhythm. Each step is imbued with emotion, a testament to his dedication and talent.

From the wings, You watch with bated breath, heart swelling with pride as you witness Riki's mesmerizing performance.

As Riki reaches the climax of his solo, the audience erupts into applause, their cheers filling the auditorium with thunderous applause. Your eyes shimmer with tears of joy as you rush forward to embrace Riki backstage, admiration for him overflowing.

"That was incredible, Riki! You were absolutely breathtaking up there."

There was someone in the crowd who thought the very same about Riki...Remember the talk where your friends were joking how nothing could tear you apart? Yeah, the 'nothing' was there at the auditorium.

It's a typical day on campus, with students bustling between classes and the air filled with the hum of activity. Riki is sitting in a lecture hall, scribbling notes furiously as the professor drones on about the intricacies of a science theory. Suddenly, there's a knock on the door, and the professor pauses, motioning for Riki to step outside.

Riki furrows his brow in confusion but follows the professor's lead, stepping out into the hallway where a man in a sharp suit awaits him. The man exudes an air of confidence and authority, and Riki's curiosity is piqued.

"Riki, I presume? My name is Hiro Endo. I was at your performance yesterday, and I must say, I was thoroughly impressed." Extending a hand

Riki's eyes widen in surprise, his heart pounding with excitement. He shakes Hiro's hand eagerly, his mind racing with possibilities.

"Thank you, sir. That means a lot coming from you. But may I ask what brings you here?"

"I represent one of the most renowned entertainment companies abroad, and I believe you have the potential to be a star. Your talent is undeniable, and I would like to offer you and a fellow member of your dance team an incredible opportunity to work with us."

Riki's heart skips a beat at the mention of such a life-changing opportunity. He glances around, searching for his friend from the dance team, who steps forward with a mixture of excitement and disbelief.

"I… I don't know what to say."

"Take a look at these documents. Everything is legitimate, I assure you. This is a chance for you to pursue your passion on a global stage, with all expenses covered and a generous compensation package."

Riki's hands tremble slightly as he flips through the documents, his mind whirling with the magnitude of the opportunity before him. He looks up at Hiro, his eyes shining with determination.

"I'll do it. I'll take the chance."

Hiro's smile widens, sensing Riki's commitment to seize the opportunity before him. With a firm handshake and a promise of further details to come, they part ways, leaving Riki with a newfound sense of purpose and excitement for the future.

As Riki returns to his class, the weight of the decision he's just made settles in his chest.

As Riki navigates the rest of his day, the weight of Hiro's offer hangs heavily on his mind. With each passing moment, the pros and cons of accepting the opportunity to go abroad to South Korea swirl through his thoughts, leaving him torn between excitement and apprehension.

During his next class, Riki finds it difficult to concentrate, his mind wandering back to the conversation with Hiro and the tantalizing prospect of pursuing his passion on a global stage. He imagines the vibrant dance scene in South Korea, the opportunity to learn and grow as an artist, and the chance to make a name for himself on an international level. But alongside the excitement, a nagging sense of doubt gnaws at him.

As the afternoon stretches on, Riki decides to seek solace in the one person who knows him best: Yn. He sends her a text, asking if they can meet up later that evening to talk. With each passing hour, the anticipation builds, and Riki finds himself grappling with the decision of whether to tell Yn about the offer now or wait until it's officially in writing.

On one hand, he wants to share his excitement and fears with Yn, knowing that she'll offer him the support and guidance he needs. But on the other hand, he worries about burdening her with his uncertainties and fears, especially when the offer is still tentative.

As evening falls and Riki meets Yn at their favorite spot-on campus, he takes a deep breath, steeling himself for the conversation ahead. He knows that whatever decision he makes, Yn will be by his side every step of the way. And with her unwavering support, he feels ready to face whatever the future may hold.

"Yn, there's something I need to talk to you about."

You look at him, expression a mix of curiosity and concern. Senses the gravity of his words and braces self for what's to come.

"What is it, Riki? You seem… tense."

Riki meets your gaze, his eyes reflecting a mixture of excitement and uncertainty "A talent agent approached me. He offered me an incredible opportunity to work abroad with one of the most renowned entertainment companies in South Korea."

Your heart skips a beat at Riki's words, a mixture of pride and apprehension washing over you. You knew this day would come, but the reality of it hits harder than anticipated.

"Wow, Riki, that's… that's amazing! Congratulations!" forcing a smile.

Riki reaches for your hand, his touch gentle and reassuring "I know it's a lot to take in, but I truly believe we can make this work, Yn. We've always been so good at communication, and with technology these days, staying connected will be easier than ever. Plus, think of all the opportunities this could open up for both of us."

Your heart aches at Riki's optimism, knowing deep down that your relationship will face challenges you both can't simply overcome with good intentions and video calls. Again, forces a smile, masking your inner turmoil as you squeezes Riki's hand gently.

Softly "Riki, I appreciate your optimism, I really do. But… but we both know that long-distance relationships are incredibly hard. And with your career taking off like this, I… I don't want to hold you back."

Now it Riki's heart to sink at your words, the weight of uncertainty hitting him like a punch to the gut. He had hoped you would share in his excitement, but now he realizes the depth of the fears and doubts.

"Yn, I… I don't want to lose you. You mean everything to me, and I can't imagine my life without you by my side."

Your eyes glisten with unshed tears as you meet Riki's gaze, voice barely above a whisper.

"Riki, I love you. And I want nothing more than to see you succeed and chase your dreams. But… but I can't ignore the reality of the situation. Sometimes love isn't enough to bridge the distance."

Riki's heart shatters at Yn's words, the realization dawning on him that their love may not be enough to overcome the obstacles that lie ahead. With a heavy heart, he pulls Yn into a tight embrace, holding her close as they silently grapple with the uncertain future that lies ahead.

"Yn, please… just hear me out. I know this won't be easy, but I truly believe we have what it takes to make it work."

Your gaze flickers with a mixture of longing and uncertainty, heart torn between the love you feel for Riki and the fear of the unknown that lies ahead.

"Riki, I want to believe that too, I really do. But… but how can we be sure? What if the distance becomes too much to bear?"

"Because I know, deep in my heart, that our love is stronger than any distance. We've overcome obstacles before, Yn, and this will be no different. We'll make it work, together."

"Yn, I promise you, with every fiber of my being, that I will do whatever it takes to make this work. I won't let our love slip away, not now, not ever. Please, just give us a chance."

With a trembling breath, you nods slowly, a flicker of hope igniting within you. "Okay, Riki. Okay, let's give it a try."

-

You wake up to the soft morning light filtering through the curtains, the warmth of Riki's embrace wrapping around you like a cocoon. With a contented sigh, you nuzzle closer to him, cherishing the fleeting moments of peace before the day's responsibilities pull you apart.

-

Hand in hand, you stroll through the vibrant bustle of the campus, the chatter of students and the rustle of leaves creating a symphony of life around you. With every step, you steal glances at Riki, committing the curve of his smile and the sparkle in his eyes to memory, knowing that soon they'll be but distant echoes in your mind.

-

Underneath the shade of a towering oak tree, you and Riki share a picnic lunch, the taste of homemade sandwiches and sweet strawberries a bittersweet reminder of the moments you'll soon leave behind. You laugh and reminisce, savoring the precious hours you have left together before the inevitable goodbye.

-

As the sun dips below the horizon, painting the sky in hues of orange and pink, you and Riki steal away to your favorite spot on campus, a secluded bench overlooking the city skyline. In the quiet stillness of the evening, you wrap yourselves in each other's arms, the weight of the impending farewell heavy on your hearts.

With a heavy sigh, you press your forehead against Riki's, the warmth of his breath mingling with yours in a silent exchange of love and longing. In the depths of his gaze, you find solace and strength, drawing courage from the unspoken promise that your love will endure, no matter the distance.

-

In these fleeting moments, Yn finds solace and strength in the love she shares with Riki, cherishing every precious second before they must part ways.

-

The airport terminal buzzes with the energy of travelers coming and going, but for you and Riki, the world narrows to a single, heart-wrenching moment. Hand in hand, you stand amidst the throng of people, your fingers intertwined as you cling to each other desperately, unwilling to let go.

Tears prick at the corners of your eyes as you gaze up at Riki, your heart aching with the weight of your impending separation. His face mirrors your own emotions, etched with sadness and longing.

"I don't want to leave you, Yn. I can't bear the thought of being apart from you."

You choke back a sob, your throat tight with emotion. "I know, Riki. I feel the same way. But… but we have to be strong. We'll find a way to make this work, I promise."

Your words hang in the air like a fragile thread, tethering you together in the face of uncertainty. But as the minutes tick by, the reality of your impending goodbye looms ever closer, casting a shadow over your fragile hope.

It's only when your friend Kai approaches, his expression solemn yet compassionate, that you realize the time has come to part ways. With a heavy heart, you turn to Riki, your eyes glistening with unshed tears.

"Guys, it's time. The boarding call has been announced."

Riki's grip tightens on your hand, his heart breaking at the finality of Kai's words. With a trembling breath, he presses a tender kiss to your forehead, his touch a silent vow of love and devotion.

"I'll never forget you, Yn. I'll carry you with me wherever I go."

Your voice catches in your throat as you return Riki's kiss, your heart overflowing with love and longing.

"I love you, Riki. Always and forever."

With one last lingering embrace, you reluctantly release each other, your hearts heavy with the weight of your farewell. With tears streaming down your cheeks, you watch as Riki disappears into the crowd, leaving behind a void that echoes with the echo of your love.

As you watch Riki's retreating figure, you cling to the hope that one day, your paths will cross again, and you'll find your way back to each other, stronger and more resilient than ever before.

The car ride home from the airport is silent, the weight of Riki's absence hanging heavy in the air. You stare blankly out the window, your mind a whirlwind of emotions as tears trace silent paths down your cheeks.

As the car pulls up to your doorstep, your phone pings with a notification. With trembling hands, you unlock the screen to find a message from Riki, accompanied by a selfie that pierces your heart like a dagger. In the photo, Riki's red eyes and tear-streaked face speak volumes, a stark reminder of the pain you both feel in your separation.

Your fingers tremble as you open the message, your heart breaking with each word.

Riki's Text: "Goodbye, Yn. I'll call as soon as I land. I love you, always."

"Yn, we're here for you. Lean on us, okay?" You look up to find Bahiyyih's compassionate gaze, her eyes brimming with empathy. Around her, Jay and Kai stand in solidarity, their silent presence a comforting anchor amidst the storm of emotions.

With a shaky breath, you nod, allowing yourself to be enveloped in the warmth of your friends' embrace.

-

As the third year of college unfolds, you find yourself immersed in a whirlwind of classes, assignments, and extracurricular activities, each day passing in a blur of busyness and routine. But amidst the chaos of student life, there's a quiet sense of contentment that settles over you, a reassuring reminder that even in Riki's absence, your love endures.

In the four months since Riki left, you've thrown yourself into your studies with renewed focus and determination, channeling your energy into academic pursuits and personal growth. The days blur together in a blur of lectures and late-night study sessions, but through it all, Riki's presence lingers like a guiding light, his love a steady anchor amidst the tumult of college life.

Despite the distance between you, your bond with Riki remains as strong as ever, nurtured by late-night phone calls, heartfelt messages, and the occasional video chat. Each interaction is a precious lifeline, a reminder of the deep connection you share and the promise of a future reunited.

As the weeks turn into months, you take solace in the knowledge that despite the miles that separate you, your love knows no bounds. And though the road ahead may be long and uncertain, you face it with courage and conviction, secure in the knowledge that no matter what challenges lie ahead, you and Riki will weather them together, stronger than ever before.

The soft glow of your phone illuminates the darkness of your room as you settle in for another late-night study session. With a tired sigh, you pull up your phone, a smile tugging at your lips as you wait for Riki's familiar face to appear on the screen.

After a moment, his face pops up, his eyes lighting up with a grin as he sees you. "Hey, love," he says, his voice warm and filled with affection.

"Hey, Riki," you reply, your heart fluttering at the sight of him. "How's your day been?"

Riki leans back in his chair, running a hand through his hair. "Busy, as usual. But seeing your face makes it all worth it."

You feel a blush creep onto your cheeks at his words, a warm rush of affection washing over you. "You're such a sweetheart," you say, unable to contain your smile.

For the next hour, you and Riki lose yourselves in conversation, sharing stories about your day and trading jokes and laughter. Despite the miles that separate you, the connection between you feels as strong as ever, each moment spent together a cherished reminder of the love you share.

As the clock ticks past midnight, you reluctantly bid Riki goodbye, knowing that another day of classes awaits you both in the morning.

In the bustling cafeteria, you and your friends gather around a table, the lively chatter of students filling the air with warmth and energy. As you dig into your lunches, a familiar face approaches you, a hopeful smile playing on his lips.

"Hey, Yn," he says, his voice tinged with nervousness. "I was wondering if you'd like to grab coffee sometime? Maybe go see a movie?"

Your heart skips a beat at the unexpected invitation, but you offer him a gentle smile. "Thank you, but I have a boyfriend. I appreciate the offer though."

With a disappointed nod, the guy retreats, leaving you to return your attention to your friends. But as you resume your conversation, a question lingers in the back of your mind, like a faint whisper of doubt.

It's Bahiyyih who voices the unspoken concern, her brow furrowed with curiosity. "Hey, Yn, what if someone else likes Riki? What if people start asking him out?"

Your heart clenches at the thought, a surge of protectiveness welling up within you. You take a moment to collect your thoughts before responding, your voice firm yet tinged with uncertainty.

"I trust Riki," you say, your words a quiet affirmation of your faith in your relationship. "And I trust in the love we share. If someone else likes him, well… it's flattering, but it doesn't change how I feel about him."

Later that evening, as you and Riki settle in for your nightly video call, you can't help but share a lighthearted moment with him. With a playful smile, you recount the encounter at the cafeteria.

Riki's laughter fills the screen, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

You chuckle at his teasing remark, feeling a warm flutter in your chest at his words. "Well, he definitely got the wrong idea. But it was kind of funny."

As the conversation winds down, you both find yourselves drifting off to sleep, the comforting presence of each other's voice lulling you into peaceful dreams. With your phones still on video call, you share a silent moment of intimacy, the soft glow of the screen casting a warm halo around your faces.

The next following months were just like that, Riki and you still communicated. Things were different, that's for sure.

Now, you were in your 2 months of the second semester of third year. Riki was now preparing for new upcoming performances, both of ypu had realized that in this time of year, you both are busy and have less time for one another.

As the clock ticks past midnight, you find yourself nestled in the familiar comfort of your dorm room, the soft glow of your phone casting shadows across the walls. With each passing minute, anticipation builds in your chest as you wait for Riki's late-night video call, a nightly ritual that brings you both closer despite the distance between you.

But as the hours stretch on, the silence of the room grows deafening, broken only by the soft hum of the ceiling fan and the distant sounds of laughter from down the hall. With each passing minute, a gnawing sense of unease creeps into your mind, overshadowing the excitement that had filled you earlier.

You check your phone for what feels like the hundredth time, hoping for a message or a missed call from Riki, but the screen remains stubbornly blank, devoid of any notifications. A frown creases your brow as you glance at the time once more, realizing with a sinking feeling that Riki's late-night call isn't coming tonight.

As the minutes turn into hours, you wrestle with a whirlwind of emotions, from disappointment and frustration to worry and concern. Thoughts race through your mind, each one more unsettling than the last. What if something happened to Riki? What if he forgot about your call? What if…?

With a heavy sigh, you push aside the barrage of doubts and fears, choosing instead to focus on the love and trust you share with Riki. You remind yourself that he's likely caught up in rehearsals or meetings, his busy schedule leaving little time for anything else.

But even as you try to rationalize his absence, a small part of you can't shake the feeling of loneliness that settles over you like a heavy blanket. You long for the familiar sound of his voice, the warmth of his laughter, the comfort of his presence.

With a resigned sigh, you resign yourself to another night spent apart, the glow of the phone screen casting a soft halo around you as you drift off to sleep, holding onto the hope that tomorrow will bring the reassurance and connection you crave.

As Riki steps into his apartment, exhaustion weighs heavily on his shoulders, a testament to the long hours spent at dance practice followed by a whirlwind of classes and meetings throughout the day. With a weary sigh, he kicks off his shoes and drops his bag by the door, his thoughts drifting to you, thousands of miles away in Japan.

Glancing at the clock, Riki's heart sinks as he realizes how late it's gotten. It's already well past midnight, and the thought of interrupting your sleep with a late-night video call fills him with guilt.

With a conflicted sigh, Riki debates whether to reach out to you anyway, knowing how much he craves the connection and comfort of your voice. But as he weighs the pros and cons, a sense of responsibility tugs at his conscience, reminding him of the importance of rest and self-care, both for himself and for you.

Reluctantly, Riki sets his phone aside, knowing that the late hour is no time to disturb your sleep. Instead, he resolves to send you a text in the morning, a simple gesture to let you know that he's thinking of you, even when they're apart.

As he settles into bed, the soft glow of his phone casting shadows across the room, he drifts off to sleep, wrapped in the warmth of your memory.

For Riki, the demands of his dance career and rigorous training schedule weigh heavily on his mind, leaving him little time or energy to devote to anything else. Each day is a relentless cycle of rehearsals, performances, and late-night practice sessions, leaving him drained and exhausted by the time he collapses into bed.

As the weeks slip by in a blur of obligations and responsibilities, you find yourself struggling to keep up with the demands of college life while navigating the increasingly distant landscape of your relationship with Riki. Despite your best efforts to stay connected, communication between you has become sparse and erratic, leaving you feeling adrift in a sea of uncertainty and longing.

Each day is a delicate balancing act, a relentless juggling of classes, assignments, and extracurricular activities, all while trying to carve out precious moments to connect with Riki. But no matter how hard you try, the distance between you seems to grow wider with each passing day, leaving you feeling increasingly isolated and alone.

The once constant stream of texts and calls has dwindled to a trickle, leaving you yearning for the warmth of Riki's voice and the comfort of his presence. Each unanswered message feels like a tiny dagger to the heart, a painful reminder of the growing chasm between you.

In the quiet moments of solitude, you find yourself haunted by doubts and insecurities, wondering if Riki still cares as deeply for you as he once did. The silence weighs heavily on your mind, casting a shadow over the once bright and hopeful future you imagined together.

But despite the uncertainty that clouds your thoughts, a part of you still clings to hope, holding onto the belief that love has a way of overcoming even the greatest obstacles. You remind yourself that distance is just a temporary hurdle, and that as long as you and Riki remain committed to each other, you'll find a way to weather the storm together.

And so, as the weeks turn into months, you hold onto the promise of better days ahead, trusting in the strength of your love to guide you through the darkness and into the light. For even in the midst of uncertainty, you know that with Riki by your side, anything is possible.

As you take a much-needed study break, you absentmindedly scroll through your social media feed, hoping for a momentary distraction from the weight of your thoughts. But as you idly flick through the photos and updates, your heart lurches painfully in your chest at the sight of a familiar face.

There, amidst the sea of posts and selfies, is a picture of Riki, his arm casually draped around the shoulder of a girl you don't recognize. The image is a stark reminder of the distance between you, a painful testament to the reality of your fading connection.

Your breath catches in your throat as you stare at the photo, your mind struggling to process the flood of emotions crashing over you like a tidal wave. Jealousy, hurt, and betrayal swirl together in a tumultuous whirlwind, threatening to overwhelm your fragile heart.

With trembling fingers, you tap on the photo, your heart pounding in your chest as you read the caption beneath it. "Fun day out with my favorite person ❤️ #love #happyducky"

The words hit you like a punch to the gut, each one a painful reminder of the intimacy and closeness shared between Riki and the girl in the photo. A sense of betrayal gnaws at your insides, leaving you feeling raw and exposed, as if your world has been turned upside down in an instant.

Tears blur your vision as you stare at the screen, your mind racing with a million questions and doubts. In that moment, as you sit alone in your room, surrounded by the suffocating silence of your own thoughts, the pain of heartbreak washes over you like a tidal wave, threatening to drag you under.

With a heavy heart and trembling fingers, you reach for your phone, the weight of the day's revelation pressing down on your shoulders. Despite the ache in your chest, you muster the courage to send a text to Riki, your fingers hesitating over the keys as you struggle to find the right words.

"Riki, we need to talk. Please call me when you get this."

With a shaky breath, you hit send, the message disappearing into the digital abyss as you wait anxiously for a response that never comes. The minutes stretch into hours, but your phone remains stubbornly silent, devoid of any sign of life from Riki.

As you climb into bed, the weight of uncertainty settles over you like a heavy blanket, casting a shadow over the once familiar comfort of your room. Despite your exhaustion, sleep eludes you, your mind consumed with thoughts of Riki and the painful realization of his betrayal.

With a heavy sigh, you curl up beneath the covers, your heart heavy with the weight of unanswered questions and unspoken truths. In the silence of the night, you find yourself grappling with a maelstrom of emotions, each one more overwhelming than the last.

As you drift off into fitful sleep, your dreams haunted by echoes of Riki's laughter and the warmth of his embrace, you can't help but wonder what tomorrow will bring. But for now, all you can do is wait, the uncertainty of the future looming large in the darkness, a silent reminder of the fragile nature of love and trust.

With a groggy groan, you roll over in bed, your hand fumbling for your phone on the nightstand. The sound of its insistent ringing fills the room, pulling you reluctantly from the depths of sleep.

Groggily, you glance at the caller ID, your heart skipping a beat as you see Riki's name flashing on the screen. Without bothering with a proper greeting, you answer the phone with a sassy tone, your words laced with a hint of annoyance.

"What, did you finally remember you have a phone?"

There's a moment of silence on the other end of the line, and you can almost hear the surprise in Riki's voice as he responds, his words tinged with uncertainty.

"Uh, good morning to you too, Yn. Is everything okay?"

Despite your frustration, a pang of guilt tugs at your conscience at the concern in Riki's voice. With a sigh, you relent, your tone softening slightly as you reply.

"Yeah, sorry. I just… didn't expect to hear from you, that's all."

There's a pause as Riki absorbs your words, his voice gentle as he speaks.

"I know things have been rough lately, but I want to talk about it. Can we meet up?"

As confusion swirls in your mind, you can't help but furrow your brow in disbelief. "What do you mean, meet up? You're in South Korea."

There's a brief pause on the other end of the line before Riki's voice comes through, filled with an unexpected urgency. "Just… open your front door, Yn."

Your heart races with anticipation as you rush to the door, your hands trembling with excitement. With a flick of the lock, you swing it open, your eyes widening in shock at the sight before you.

There, standing on your doorstep, is Riki, a sheepish grin spreading across his face as he holds up his phone in a gesture of greeting. "Surprise," he says, his voice tinged with excitement and relief.

Your jaw drops in astonishment, your mind struggling to process the surreal sight before you. "Riki, what are you doing here? How did you…?"

But before you can finish your sentence, Riki steps forward, enveloping you in a warm embrace that sends shivers down your spine. "I couldn't stay away any longer," he whispers, his breath warm against your ear. "I needed to see you."

Tears prick at your eyes as you return the embrace, your heart overflowing with a dizzying mix of joy, relief, and disbelief. In that moment, as you stand together on your doorstep, the distance and misunderstandings of the past few weeks melt away, replaced by the overwhelming certainty of your love for each other.

As Riki takes in the redness of your eyes, concern etches his features, but before he can voice his worry, you step back, breaking free from his embrace. His eyebrows furrow in confusion as he looks at you, searching your face for answers.

"What's wrong, Yn?" he asks, his voice filled with genuine concern.

You meet his gaze with a sassy smirk, your tone laced with sarcasm. "Oh, nothing. Just stumbled upon a cute little picture of you and your 'favorite person' on Instagram last night."

Riki's expression shifts from confusion to realization, his eyes widening in understanding. "Yn, it's not what you think—"

As you step back into the apartment, the weight of the moment hangs heavy in the air, a palpable tension swirling between you and Riki. But before you can retreat any further, Riki moves closer, his arms encircling you in a gentle back hug. His touch sends a shiver down your spine, the warmth of his embrace a stark contrast to the coldness of your heart.

"Yn, please," he pleads, his voice soft and pleading. "Let me explain."

You stiffen in his arms, your resolve wavering as his words wash over you. Part of you longs to hear his side of the story, to believe that there's a rational explanation for what you saw. But another part of you, wounded and betrayed, hesitates to let your guard down, afraid of the pain that lies on the other side of forgiveness.

With a sigh, you turn to face him, your eyes meeting his in a silent plea for honesty. "Fine," you say, your voice barely above a whisper. "But make it quick."

Riki nods, his expression earnest as he takes a deep breath, steeling himself for what comes next. And as he begins to speak, his words wash over you like a soothing balm, each one a testament to the depth of his love and the sincerity of his regret.

-

Throughout the week, Riki's presence brings a sense of warmth and familiarity to your home, filling the air with laughter and shared memories.

-

One lazy morning, you wake up to the aroma of freshly brewed coffee, courtesy of Riki's thoughtful surprise. As you join him at the kitchen table, he presents you with a steaming cup, his eyes twinkling with mischief. Together, you share intimate conversations over the warmth of your drinks, lost in each other's company as the morning sun filters through the curtains.

-

On a clear night, Riki suggests a spontaneous adventure: stargazing in the park. Hand in hand, you make your way under the twinkling sky, laying out a blanket to lie on. As you gaze up at the vast expanse of stars above, Riki whispers secrets and promises, his words mingling with the soft rustle of leaves and the distant hum of the city. In that moment, surrounded by the beauty of the universe, you feel closer to him than ever before.

-

In a burst of spontaneity, Riki challenges you to a pillow fight, the room erupting in laughter as pillows fly and giggles fill the air. You duck and dodge his playful swipes, retaliating with your own, your hearts racing with the thrill of the moment. Amidst the chaos and laughter, you share a connection that transcends words, a bond forged in the simple joys of being together.

These moments, filled with laughter, love, and shared experiences, serve as a poignant reminder of the deep connection and affection that binds you and Riki together.

But amidst the joyous reunions and heartwarming moments, you can't help but notice the subtle shifts in Riki's behavior, the fleeting glances at his phone and the whispered conversations that leave you feeling uneasy.

In the midst of a family dinner, you catch Riki sneaking glances at his phone, his brows furrowing in concentration as he types out a quick response to a message. At first, you brush it off as nothing more than the usual distractions of modern life, but as the week wears on, the frequency of his interruptions becomes harder to ignore.

During a quiet moment alone together, you voice your concerns to Riki, your words tinged with a hint of worry. "Is everything okay, Riki? You seem… distracted."

Riki's smile falters for a moment before he offers you a reassuring squeeze of the hand. "It's nothing, Yn. Just some work stuff I need to take care of."

Despite his words, a nagging sense of doubt lingers in the back of your mind, a silent reminder of the uncertainties that have plagued your relationship in recent weeks. But you push aside your doubts, choosing instead to trust in Riki's love and sincerity.

As the week draws to a close, you find yourself unable to shake the feeling of unease that gnaws at your insides. And then, one fateful afternoon, as you innocently reach for Riki's phone to check the time, you stumble upon a series of messages that shatter your world into a million jagged pieces.

With trembling hands and tears in your eyes, you scroll through the messages, each one a damning testament to the betrayal that has unfolded right under your nose. And in that heart-wrenching moment of truth, the painful realization dawns upon you: Riki's distractions weren't innocent after all. He was hiding something from you, something that would irreparably change the course of your relationship forever.

As you hold Riki's phone in your trembling hands, the weight of the truth settling heavily upon your shoulders, you're startled by the sound of the bathroom door opening. With a shaky breath, you quickly set the phone down on the bedside table, your heart pounding in your chest as you scramble to compose yourself.

As Riki emerges from the bathroom, his expression bright and carefree, you force a sleepy smile, pretending as though you've just woken up. "Hey, sleepyhead," he greets you with a warm smile, oblivious to the storm raging within you.

You return his smile with a forced one of your own, your mind racing with a million thoughts and emotions. Despite the urge to confront him, to demand answers to the questions burning in your mind, you hold back, choosing instead to bury your pain beneath a facade of indifference.

As Riki settles onto the bed beside you, his warmth seeping into your bones, you fight the urge to reach out to him, to seek comfort in his embrace. But as you steal a glance at his unsuspecting face, the memory of his betrayal looms large in your mind, a silent reminder of the shattered trust between you.

In that moment, as you lie there beside him, a silent tension fills the air, a palpable barrier that separates you from the man you once loved. And as you struggle to make sense of the turmoil within you, one thing becomes painfully clear: now is not the time for comfort or reconciliation. For now, all you can do is bide your time, waiting for the right moment to confront him and demand the truth.

As the days pass by, you find yourself grappling with the painful truth that hangs heavy in the air between you and Riki. Despite his attempts to maintain a facade of normalcy, his behavior remains unchanged, his frequent disappearances to answer calls or texts a constant source of unease.

Each time he slips away, you can't help but feel a pang of betrayal as you watch him, his smile once meant for you now a cruel reminder of the deception that lurks beneath the surface. And as he returns to the table, his kiss on your cheek feels hollow, a bitter reminder of the love that was lost amidst the web of lies and deceit.

In that moment, as you sit beside him, a silent tension fills the space between you, a chasm of unspoken words and unresolved emotions. And as you steal a glance at his unsuspecting face, a surge of anger and resentment wells up inside you, threatening to consume you whole.

But instead of giving in to the urge to confront him, you bite back the words that burn on the tip of your tongue, choosing instead to keep silent, to bide your time until the moment is right. For now, all you can do is play the part of the oblivious lover, keeping your true feelings hidden beneath a mask of indifference, all the while knowing that the truth will eventually come to light.

I played dumb, but I always knew That you talked to her, maybe did even worse I kept quiet so I could keep you

As the night stretches on, you lie awake in bed, your thoughts swirling in a tumultuous storm of emotions. Beside you, Riki shifts restlessly, his concern evident in the furrow of his brow.

"Yn, what's wrong?" he murmurs, his voice thick with worry.

But you remain silent, your mind consumed by the weight of your own thoughts. You know you should speak up, confront Riki about the truth you've discovered, but the words catch in your throat, suffocated by the fear of what might come next.

Sensing your hesitation, Riki reaches out to gently caress your cheek, his touch a soothing balm against the turmoil within you. "Please, Yn," he pleads, his voice barely above a whisper. "Talk to me. I can't help you if you don't tell me what's wrong."

But still, you remain silent, your heart heavy with the burden of your secrets. With a sigh, Riki pulls you close, wrapping you in his arms with a tenderness that threatens to undo your resolve.

"Fine," you finally whisper, your voice barely audible in the darkness. "Just… hold me tight until morning, okay?" And with that simple request, Riki pulls you even closer.

In the depths of the night, as sleep claims you in its gentle embrace, you find yourself drifting into a dream so vivid and beautiful that it feels almost like reality. In this dream, you and Riki are together, happy and content, living out a future filled with love and laughter.

You can see it all so clearly: the two of you walking hand in hand down a sunlit aisle, surrounded by friends and family as you exchange vows of everlasting devotion. You can feel the warmth of Riki's touch, the softness of his voice as he whispers words of love and affection into your ear.

Together, you embark on a journey of endless adventures and shared experiences, building a life filled with joy and happiness. You can see yourselves growing old together, still holding hands and stealing kisses even after decades have passed.

But then, in the quiet darkness of the night, reality comes crashing back with a cruel inevitability. As you stir from your dream-induced reverie, your eyes flutter open to the sight of Riki sleeping peacefully beside you, his features softened by the gentle glow of the moonlight.

In that moment, as you gaze upon his sleeping form, a pang of sadness grips your heart, the harsh truth of your situation looming large in the darkness. You know deep down that the future you envisioned in your dream will never come to pass, that the love you once shared with Riki has been tainted by betrayal and mistrust.

With a heavy sigh, you turn away from him, burying your face in the pillow as tears prick at the corners of your eyes. In the stillness of the night, you grapple with the painful realization that the dream you so desperately clung to will forever remain nothing more than a fleeting fantasy, a bittersweet reminder of what could have been.

In the soft light of dawn, you find yourselves once again at the airport, the familiar scent of departure lingering in the air as you stand on the precipice of another goodbye. But this time, there's a subtle shift in the atmosphere, a quiet sense of resignation mingled with a newfound sense of resolve.

As you watch Riki prepare to board his flight, a bittersweet smile graces your lips, a fleeting reflection of the conflicting emotions swirling within you. You know that saying goodbye to him will be painful, but deep down, you also know that it's the right thing to do.

As you stand at the airport, the weight of unspoken words hanging heavy between you and Riki, you can't help but feel a sense of urgency bubbling up inside you. With a glance towards him, you catch his gaze, a flicker of confusion crossing his features as he meets your eyes.

"I know, Riki," you say softly, your voice barely above a whisper, but laced with a quiet determination.

Riki's brow furrows in confusion, his lips parting as if to speak, but no words come out. He searches your face for answers, but you simply offer him a small, enigmatic smile, leaving him to grapple with the puzzle of your words.

As Riki boards the plane and takes his seat, the pieces of the puzzle begin to fall into place in his mind. With a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, he realizes the truth behind your cryptic message, the weight of his actions crashing down on him like a ton of bricks.

As the plane taxis down the runway, Riki's mind races with regret and remorse, his heart heavy with the knowledge of what he's lost. In that moment of clarity, he knows that he may have let go of the greatest love he'll ever know, all for the sake of fleeting moments of temptation and desire.

And as the plane takes off, carrying him away from you and towards an uncertain future, Riki is left to grapple with the consequences of his choices, knowing that the pain of your goodbye will haunt him long after the plane touches down in a distant land.

As you sits in your car, watching through tear-blurred eyes as the plane carrying Riki disappears into the vast expanse of the sky, a wave of emotions crashes over you like a tidal wave. Tears stream down her cheeks unchecked, mingling with the silent sobs that wrack her body.

Memories of their time together flash before your eyes, each one a bittersweet reminder of the love you once shared and the dreams you two had dared to dream together. But now, all that remains is an empty void, a gaping hole where once there was warmth and affection.

-

Your phone buzzes insistently, pulling your attention away from the conversation with Jay and Kai. You hesitate, your thumb hovering over the answer button, torn between the desire to hear Riki's voice and the fear of worsening fresh wounds.

Jay notices your hesitation and raises an eyebrow. "Who's calling?" he asks, curiosity piqued.

You shrug nonchalantly, a forced smile playing at your lips. "Just someone from school," you lie, the words tasting bitter on your tongue.

Jay frowns, sensing your reluctance to answer. "You gonna pick up or what?" he prods, his tone tinged with impatience.

Your heart pounds in your chest as you weigh your options. You know that talking to Riki will only make things worse, but a part of you still longs to hear his voice, to find some semblance of closure in your fractured relationship.

In the end, you shake your head and decline the call, your hand trembling slightly as you set your phone back down on the table. "Sorry, just not in the mood to talk right now," you mumble, offering your friends a weak smile.

Jay nods understandingly, but you can see the concern etched in his expression. You know that your friends mean well, but there are some things you're not ready to share, some wounds too deep to be healed by mere words.

As the conversation shifts back to lighter topics, you can't help but feel a pang of regret at your decision to ignore Riki's call. But deep down, you know that it's for the best, that some bridges are better left unburned, even if it means sacrificing the chance for closure.

-

As Riki steps off the plane in South Korea, his heart heavy with the weight of his actions, he is greeted by a familiar face waiting for him by the gate. But instead of the usual excitement and anticipation he feels at seeing her, there's a knot of guilt and remorse churning in the pit of his stomach.

For the first time, he looks at her and sees not just the thrill of their secret trysts, but the pain and betrayal that his actions have caused another. He sees the hurt reflected in her eyes, a silent reminder of the consequences of his actions, and he can't help but feel a pang of regret deep within him.

As she approaches him with a smile, her arms outstretched in greeting, Riki can't bring himself to return the gesture. Instead, he hangs his head in shame, unable to meet her gaze as the weight of his guilt threatens to crush him.

In that moment, looking at her standing there before him, Riki realizes the magnitude of his mistakes. He knows that he can never undo the pain he's caused you, but he also knows that he can't continue down this path of deception and betrayal any longer.

With a heavy heart, Riki takes a step back, distancing himself from the girl he once thought he loved. And as he walks away, leaving behind the echoes of his past mistakes, he knows that the road to redemption will be long and arduous. But for you, and for the chance at a better future, he's willing to take that first step.

-

As the months flew by, the weight of Riki's absence lingered heavy on your heart, a constant reminder of the love you had lost and the wounds that still remained unhealed. Graduation loomed on the horizon, a bittersweet milestone marking the end of one chapter and the beginning of another.

Despite your best efforts to move on, Riki remained a lingering presence in your thoughts, his memory haunting you at every turn. It was a struggle to push him out of your mind, to silence the ache in your heart that longed for his touch and his presence.

But as graduation day drew nearer, you knew that it was time to confront the truth, to lay bare the painful reality of your relationship with Riki. With a heavy heart, you confided in your friends, finally revealing the truth that you had kept hidden for so long.

Their reactions ranged from shock to anger to profound sadness, but through it all, they stood by your side, offering their unwavering support and understanding. With their help, you found the strength to stop seeking updates on Riki, to let go of the need to know what he was doing or where he was going.

-

As you browse through racks of dresses with Bahiyyih by your side, laughter and chatter filling the air, your heart skips a beat when you suddenly catch sight of a familiar figure standing just a few feet away. Your breath catches in your throat as you lock eyes with Riki, his expression a mix of shock and desperation.

Time seems to stand still as the reality of the moment sinks in, the air heavy with unspoken words and unresolved emotions. For a brief moment, you're transported back to a time when his presence brought nothing but joy and happiness, but now, all you feel is a dull ache in the pit of your stomach.

Bahiyyih's eyes widen in disbelief as she takes in the scene before her, her hand reaching out to grasp yours in a silent gesture of support. She can see the pain etched on your face, the raw vulnerability that lies beneath the surface, and she knows that this unexpected encounter has dredged up a flood of emotions that you had long tried to bury.

Riki opens his mouth as if to speak, but no words come out. Instead, he simply stands there, his eyes pleading for forgiveness, his heart laid bare for all to see. But you know that forgiveness won't come easily, not after everything that has happened between you.

With a heavy heart, you turn away from him, the weight of his gaze burning into your back as you walk away. As Riki takes a step forward, his instinct urging him to chase after you, Bahiyyih steps in his path, her expression a mix of determination and concern. She places a gentle hand on his arm, her touch a silent plea for him to stop and reconsider.

"Riki, wait," she says softly, her voice tinged with urgency. "I know you want to talk to her, but now is not the time. She needs space, time to process everything. This..you, being back all of the sudden"

Riki's brow furrows in frustration, his heart torn between the desire to make things right and the fear of making things worse. He knows that Bahiyyih is right, that barging after you now would only add fuel to the fire, but it's hard to ignore the ache in his chest, the desperate longing to reach out and hold you in his arms.

Reluctantly, he nods, a heavy sigh escaping his lips as he watches you disappear from view. He knows that this won't be the last time he sees you, that there will be other opportunities to make amends, but for now, he'll have to trust that time and distance will heal the wounds that lie between you.

As you sit in your room with Bahiyyih by your side, a heavy silence hangs in the air, broken only by the soft sounds of your breathing. You're not crying, but your mind is elsewhere, lost in a whirlwind of conflicting emotions and shattered illusions.

Thoughts race through your mind like a raging river, each one a painful reminder of the walls you had built up around your heart in an attempt to move on from Riki. You had worked so hard to rebuild your life, to find happiness and fulfillment in the absence of his love, but seeing him earlier today shattered those fragile walls like glass.

In that moment, all the progress you had made feels like nothing more than a cruel illusion, a fleeting mirage in the desert of your heartache. You realize now that no matter how hard you try to forget him, to bury the memories deep within the recesses of your mind, he will always have a hold on your heart, a piece of you that can never be replaced.

And as you stare off into the distance, lost in the labyrinth of your thoughts, you can't help but wonder if it will ever be possible to truly move on from him. Will the ache in your heart ever fade, or will it linger like a shadow, a constant reminder of the love you once shared and the dreams that were shattered in its wake?

-

Riki finds himself sitting in Heeseung and Jay's dorm room, his heart heavy with guilt and regret. He knows that he's made a mess of things with Yn, and now he's desperate for advice on how to fix it.

Heeseung, ever the empathetic one, offers words of comfort and reassurance. "Look, man, we all make mistakes," he says, his voice gentle and soothing. "The important thing is that you recognize what you've done wrong and try to make it right. Yn is a smart girl, she'll understand if you're honest with her."

But Jay, ever the realist, isn't so quick to let Riki off the hook. "Come on, Riki," he says, his tone sharp and biting. "How could you let her suffer for months while you did nothing? You can't just waltz back into her life and expect her to forgive you. You've got to show her that you're willing to do whatever it takes to make things right."

Riki winces at Jay's words, knowing that he's right. He's let Yn down in the worst possible way, and now he has to face the consequences of his actions. He knows that it won't be easy, that he'll have to work hard to earn back her trust and forgiveness, but he's determined to try.

With a heavy sigh, Riki nods, his jaw set with determination. "You're right," he says, his voice firm. "I messed up, big time. But I'm not going to let Yn down again. I'll do whatever it takes to make things right, even if it means facing some hard truths along the way."

Jay's sharp gaze fixes on Riki, his expression one of curiosity mixed with skepticism. "What about the other girl?" he asks, his tone cutting through the tension in the room.

Riki's heart sinks as he braces himself to explain the tangled web of deceit and betrayal that he's woven. Taking a deep breath, he begins to recount the events that led him to this point, his words stumbling over the painful truth of his actions.

"I thought I could have it all," he admits, his voice heavy with remorse. "I thought I could keep Yn in the dark while I pursued something with this other girl. But it was all a lie, a foolish fantasy that only ended up hurting everyone involved."

As he speaks, Riki can feel the weight of his mistakes pressing down on him, threatening to crush him beneath their burden. But he knows that he has to face the truth, no matter how painful it may be.

Heeseung listens with a sympathetic ear, his expression one of understanding and compassion. "It sounds like you were in over your head," he says, his voice gentle. "But that doesn't excuse what you did. You need to take responsibility for your actions and make things right with Yn."

Jay's expression remains stern, his eyes boring into Riki with an intensity that makes him squirm uncomfortably in his seat. "You've got a lot of work to do, Riki," he says, his tone sharp. "You can't just expect Yn to forgive you overnight. You need to earn back her trust, and that starts with being honest with her about everything."

Riki nods solemnly, knowing that he has a long road ahead of him. But with Heeseung and Jay's support, he feels a glimmer of hope flicker within him. He knows that he may never be able to fully make amends for his mistakes, but he's determined to try, if only to prove to himself and to you that he's capable of change.

As you step out of the apartment building, your heart skips a beat when you see Riki waiting for you, a hopeful look in his eyes. Your resolve wavers for a moment, the sight of him stirring up a whirlwind of conflicting emotions within you.

"I'll walk you to school," he says, his voice gentle and pleading. "I remember how you don't like walking alone."

But you shake your head, steeling yourself against the pull of his words. "I got used to walking alone when you left," you say, your voice firm. "I don't need you to walk me to school anymore."

With that, you turn on your heel and begin to walk away, determined to put as much distance between you and Riki as possible. But to your dismay, he falls into step beside you, his presence a constant reminder of the tangled mess of emotions that still linger between you.

"No matter how far you walk, I'll always follow," he says quietly, his words a whisper on the wind. "I'll do whatever it takes to make things right, Yn. Please, just give me a chance to prove myself to you."

You can feel the weight of his gaze burning into your back as you continue to walk, the ache in your heart growing with each step you take. You know that giving in to him would only reopen old wounds, but at the same time, you can't shake the feeling that maybe, just maybe, there's still a chance for redemption and forgiveness.

As you walk to school, the weight of your emotions threatens to overwhelm you, and you find yourself unable to keep the floodgates closed any longer. With each step, the memories of the promises Riki made before he left come flooding back, taunting you with the bitter taste of broken dreams and shattered trust.

"Remember when you promised that we'd make it work, no matter what?" you begin, your voice tinged with bitterness and hurt. "You said that distance wouldn't be a problem, that we'd find a way to make it through together."

Riki's expression softens, a pained look crossing his features as he listens to your words. "I meant every word of it, Yn," he says, his voice filled with sincerity. "But I know that I messed up, that I let you down in the worst possible way. I'm not asking you to forgive me overnight, but I promise that I'll do whatever it takes to make things right."

But you shake your head, the walls around your heart still firmly in place. "Words are cheap, Riki," you say, your voice tinged with sadness. "You can't just expect me to believe you after everything that's happened. You had your chance to make things right, and you blew it."

Riki's shoulders slump in defeat, his gaze dropping to the ground as he struggles to find the right words to say. "I know that I don't deserve your forgiveness," he says quietly. "But I'm not ready to give up on us yet. Please, just give me one more chance to show you that I've changed."

You pause for a moment, the weight of his words hanging heavy in the air between you. As you finally reach the school gates, the tension between you and Riki hangs heavy in the air, a palpable reminder of the chasm that lies between you. With a heavy sigh, you turn to him, steeling yourself for the answer to the question that has been haunting you since the moment you saw that picture on social media.

"What did she have that I don't?" you ask, your voice trembling with emotion. "Was she worth throwing away everything we had?"

Before Riki can respond, you shake your head, cutting him off before he can offer an explanation. "It doesn't matter," you say, your voice tinged with resignation. "I hope she was everything you ever wanted, everything you couldn't find in me."

With that, you turn on your heel and walk away, leaving Riki standing alone at the school gates, the weight of your words echoing in the empty space between you.

As you take your seat next to Jay in class, the sour look on your face doesn't go unnoticed by him. Concern etches his features as he turns to you, his eyes narrowing with worry.

"What's wrong, Yn?" he asks, his voice low and filled with concern.

You hesitate for a moment, unsure if you want to share your troubles with him. But the words spill out before you can stop them, and you find yourself recounting the encounter with Riki on your way to school.

"He walked me to school," you say, your voice tinged with bitterness. "Like everything's fine and we're still together."

Heeseung and Kai overhear your conversation and begin to tease you mercilessly, their laughter filling the air as they poke fun at your discomfort. But Bahiyyih quickly intervenes, shooting them a stern look that silences them instantly.

Jay leans in closer to you, his expression softening with understanding. "Maybe he's being genuine, Yn," he says, his voice gentle and reassuring. "You know how much he cares about you. And besides, he came over to our dorm last night to talk. He seemed really sincere."

You chew on your bottom lip, the weight of Jay's words sinking in as you contemplate the possibility that maybe, just maybe, there's still hope for you and Riki. But despite the flicker of optimism that blooms within you, you can't shake the lingering doubt and uncertainty that clouds your heart. Only time will tell if Riki is truly genuine in his intentions, and whether or not you're willing to take the risk of trusting him again.

-

As you return to your apartment, the events of the day swirling in your mind, you're surprised to find the familiar scent of your favorite flowers wafting through the air. Your heart skips a beat as you step inside, your eyes widening in disbelief at the sight before you.

The entire apartment is adorned with bouquets of your favorite flowers, their vibrant colors filling the room with a sense of warmth and comfort. And lying on the couch, nestled among the blooms, is a beautifully wrapped gift with a note attached.

Your hands tremble slightly as you pick up the note, your heart pounding in your chest as you read Riki's words. In the letter, he pours his heart out to you, apologizing for his past mistakes and expressing his sincere desire to make things right. He promises to do whatever it takes to earn back your trust and forgiveness, begging for another chance to prove himself to you.

My Dearest Yn,

As I sit down to write this letter, my heart is heavy with regret and longing. I know that I've hurt you in ways that words can't even begin to express, and for that, I am truly sorry. I never meant to cause you pain, and yet, my actions have led us down a path filled with heartache and uncertainty.

I want you to know that I've spent countless nights lying awake, haunted by the memories of our time together and the mistakes I've made. I've replayed our conversations in my mind a thousand times over, wishing I could turn back the clock and make things right. But no matter how hard I try, I know that I can never undo the hurt that I've caused you.

And yet, despite everything, my love for you remains unchanged. You are the light that guides me through the darkness, the warmth that fills my soul with hope. I can't imagine a life without you in it, and the thought of losing you terrifies me more than anything else in this world.

I know that I don't deserve your forgiveness, that I've broken your trust in the worst possible way. But I'm willing to do whatever it takes to make things right, to earn back the love and respect that I've lost. I promise to be honest with you, to communicate openly and honestly, and to never take your love for granted again.

Please, Yn, give me another chance to show you how much you mean to me. I know that words alone can't heal the wounds that I've inflicted upon your heart, but I hope that with time and patience, we can find a way to move forward together, stronger and more resilient than ever before.

With all my love,

Riki

Tears prickle at the corners of your eyes as you read his words, the weight of his sincerity washing over you like a tidal wave. Despite the pain and uncertainty that still lingers in your heart, a small part of you can't help but be touched by his gesture, by the lengths he's gone to show you how much you mean to him.

But as you look around the empty apartment, the absence of Riki's presence casting a shadow over the room, you can't shake the feeling of unease that settles in the pit of your stomach. Will he keep his promises this time, or is this just another empty gesture meant to placate you?

With a heavy sigh, you set the letter aside and reach for the gift, the weight of it heavy in your hands. Whatever happens next, you know that the road ahead will be long and difficult.

As you carefully unwrap the gift from Riki, your heart flutters with anticipation, unsure of what lies within. With trembling hands, you peel back the layers of paper, revealing a beautifully crafted wooden box nestled inside.

Your breath catches in your throat as you lift the lid, revealing the contents within. Inside the box lies a treasure trove of memories, each one carefully preserved and presented with love and care.

There are photographs, snapshots of moments frozen in time, capturing the laughter and joy that once filled your days together. Each image is accompanied by a handwritten note from Riki, sharing his thoughts and feelings from those cherished moments.

But it's not just photographs that fill the box. There are letters too, pages upon pages of heartfelt words and declarations of love, each one a testament to the depth of Riki's feelings for you. As you read through them, tears prickle at the corners of your eyes, your heart swelling with emotion at the thoughtfulness and effort that went into creating such a meaningful gift.

And then, at the bottom of the box, nestled among the memories, lies a single red rose, its petals still fresh and vibrant despite the passage of time. It's a simple gesture, but one filled with meaning and symbolism, a reminder of the love that still blooms between you despite the trials and tribulations that you've faced.

As you sit with the gift from Riki in your hands, a nagging doubt creeps into the back of your mind, casting a shadow over the warmth and comfort that you felt moments before. Was this all just a ploy to win you back, a carefully orchestrated act of love bombing designed to manipulate your emotions and keep you under his spell?

The thought sends a chill down your spine, filling you with a sense of unease that you can't shake. You know that Riki is capable of great kindness and generosity, but after everything that has happened between you, it's hard to trust his intentions completely.

With a heavy sigh, you set the gift aside, the weight of uncertainty settling over you like a dark cloud. Only time will tell if Riki's gestures are sincere or if they're just another ploy to keep you under his control.

-

On a sunny Saturday morning, Riki wakes up early to prepare for the surprise picnic he's planned for you. He carefully selects all your favorite foods and snacks, making sure to pack them neatly into a wicker basket. With a satisfied smile, he adds a bottle of sparkling cider and a bouquet of your favorite flowers to the mix before heading out to the park. - After weeks of soul-searching and reflection, Riki sits down at his desk with pen and paper in hand. He takes a deep breath, steeling himself for the task ahead, and begins to write. With each word, Riki pours his heart out onto the page, expressing his deepest regrets and sincerest apologies for the pain he's caused you. He bares his soul, laying bare his thoughts and feelings in the hopes of winning back your trust. Hours pass as Riki fills page after page with his handwritten words, his emotions flowing freely onto the paper. When he finally finishes, he reads over the letter one last time, making sure every word is just right. The next day, Riki delivers the letter to you personally, his heart pounding in his chest as he watches you read it. - One evening, as you're scrolling through your social media feed, you come across a post about a movie you've been dying to see. You mention it in passing to Riki, not expecting anything to come of it. But to your surprise, Riki jumps into action, surprising you with tickets to the movie for that very evening. He clears his schedule for the night, ensuring that you have his undivided attention as you enjoy a night out together. As you settle into your seats at the theater, Riki reaches for your hand, his touch sending a shiver down your spine. Throughout the movie, he steals glances at you, his eyes shining with affection. - One evening, as you arrive home from a long day at work, you're greeted by the mouthwatering aroma of your favorite meal wafting through the air. Curious, you follow the scent to the kitchen, where you find Riki hard at work, surrounded by pots and pans. He looks up with a smile as you enter, gesturing to the spread of food laid out before him. "I wanted to surprise you with dinner tonight," he says, his eyes shining with excitement. "I hope you like it."

-

As the morning sun filters through the curtains, you awaken to the sound of your phone buzzing with notifications. Groaning, you reach for it, expecting the usual barrage of messages and emails.

But as you scroll through the notifications, your eyes widen in disbelief at the news that greets you. The message is simple yet profound, a single sentence that rocks you to your core:

"Riki quit his dancing job and came back to Japan for you."

Your heart skips a beat as you read the words again, unable to believe what you're seeing. Could it be true? Could Riki have made such a monumental decision, sacrificing everything he worked so hard for just to be with you?

With trembling hands, you dial Riki's number, your heart pounding in your chest as you wait for him to pick up. When he finally does, his voice is filled with warmth and affection, a stark contrast to the uncertainty that fills your own heart.

"Yn," he says, his voice soft and filled with emotion. "I know that I've made mistakes, but I'm willing to do whatever it takes to make things right. I love you, and I'll do anything to prove it to you."

Tears prickle at the corners of your eyes as you listen to his words, the weight of his sincerity washing over you like a wave. In that moment, you know that you have a choice to make, a choice that will determine the course of your future.

[soaps-mohawk]

Cherry Red, Crimson Blood

Chapter 31: Forced Proximity

Summary: John and Kyle are gone. You have no choice but to lean on the alpha you've betrayed, the alpha that hates you.

Pairing: Poly 141 x reader

Word Count: 11,071 words

Warnings: ANGST, Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, Alternate Universe, a/b/o typical classism and sexism, language, anxiety, reader has a panic attack and several breakdowns, Simon being mean, ANGST, depression, lots of mentions of vomiting and the reader does get sick quite a bit though it's not descriptive in any way, ANGST, heat cycles, pseudoscience, medical stuff (that's probably very wrong), brief mention of needles, medical procedures (nothing very detailed), ANGST, very heavy emotionally again, some very light fluff like barely there but nothing compared to the ANGST

A/N: I did it. I finally got it up. It's uh...it's a heavy one again, I'll tell you that much. You'll hate me even more but oh well. I expected that through this part of the story. I'm so evil I know.

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“I don't like this. It's too...”

“Convenient?”

“Suspicious.”

“I know. But we don't have much of a choice in this.” John says, staring at Simon and Johnny. “You keep your eyes on her at all times. Stay in the barracks when you can. If you have to leave the barracks together, she goes with you.”

“We won't let her out of our sight.” Simon says. “If anything happens, Kate will be the first to know.”

“Good.” John says. He trusts the two of them to look after you. Yet he can't deny the timing of this is a bit suspicious. “We'll be back as soon as we can. Take good care of our girl.”

Two weeks. 

It’s been two weeks since John and Kyle left. 

Despite the fact it’s not the longest someone has been gone, it doesn’t ease the ache in your chest, the pain slowly carving its way into your very soul. You haven’t spoken to them. There’s been no word. Nothing. It could be a good thing. Sometimes no news is good news, and you suppose it’s better than a phone call saying they’ve died in some horrible accident. 

You keep waiting for that phone call. 

Every time Johnny or Simon’s phone rings, you begin to panic, fear eating away at that hole in your chest. It’s bad news, it’s Kate calling to tell them your alpha and beta aren’t coming home. 

You’ve hardly been able to relax, tense and jumpy at the littlest things. Being enclosed in the barracks at all times isn’t helping. You haven’t left once, not even to the med center. Dr. Keller has been coming to the barracks, more than she normally would for your appointments. You wonder if it was Johnny’s doing to try and help you relax, or Simon’s doing in hope you stop stinking up the barracks with the sour scent of nerves and fear. 

Simon has been distant still, avoiding you as much as he can. It’s impossible to avoid you completely, though, as Johnny can’t watch you 24/7. It’s a bit claustrophobic, the way they hover, always keeping one eye on you. It’s been a bit suffocating for the last three weeks, but with John and Kyle gone...it’s almost worse. 

Johnny has tried to fill that void, tried to support you in any way he can, but it hasn’t worked. You know it’s Johnny, you love Johnny, yet not even he can fill the void that has become your life without your alpha. 

You hate it. 

You hate their job, you hate that it takes them from you. You hate the uncertainty, the constant fear and worry that makes you sick. You hate that it’s dragged you into it. You know they were digging for the perpetrator of the cameras, who put them up, who ordered them to be put up, who potentially wanted to look into your personal life in such a violating way. The sudden deployment feels too suspicious, too sudden to be coincidence. 

But as John says, entertaining conspiracies won’t get you anywhere. 

Still...it smells fishy to you. 

The hole in your chest has left you in a constant state of uneasiness which has left you on the verge of tears constantly. Every day that passes without word of a tragedy or that they’re coming home makes your stomach churn, tears constantly brimming in your eyes. John’s shirt is constantly in your grasp, a dirty one you’d fished out of the bottom of his laundry basket, soaked in his scent. It’s beginning to fade, slowly eroding away until there won’t be anything left. Then you’ll grab another and another until you have none left. His room still smells like him, his pillows still fresh with his scent. 

You know it will fade, though, and fade fast. 

You’ve been avoiding spending too much time in his room and Kyle’s in favor of keeping their scents in there as long as possible. The fading of their scents is like an omen, marking a fading of their presence in your life, of the bond between you. The constant fear that you’ll forget them, what they sound like, what they smell like, what they look like. 

It makes you physically ill. 

That painful churning in your stomach is back as you sit on the couch in the rec room, curled up as far from Simon as you can get. Simon is still angry at you, at your betrayal of his trust. So much progress down the drain because you proved you’re not trustworthy after he trusted you enough to begin opening up. You still hate yourself for it, for keeping the secret for that long. Even a month would have been better and would have had less consequences for everyone. Maybe then you might have caught the camera in the bear sooner, and not been so violated during some of your most private moments. 

Some of those moments with Simon. 

How violated does he feel, having such vulnerable moments between you recorded and viewed by someone out there? You can’t help but think back to that night when he came back, and the morning after. Someone watched you. The bear had been right there, those black beady eyes staring right at the two of you. How many times had you fucked the others in your bed, the bear sitting there, watching, projecting those moments to whoever was on the other side. 

Your heat. 

The bear hadn’t been looking then, but it had been listening. It knows what happened, every last detail, every slam of the bed against the wall, every knot. 

It makes you sick. 

Your stomach churns, your arms wrapping around your middle as you let out a shaky breath. You’re going to puke again, the bile rising in your throat. The intense tingling in your hands is starting again, your fingers curling in as your extremities begin to go numb. You’re panicking again. 

Instead of vomit, a choked sob leaves your lips, your tears hot and burning on your cheeks, stinging like they’re composed of acid. 

Simon glances up from his phone, his face the mask of indifference that it has been for three weeks. A mask that he had worn for the first few months after your arrival. “What?” He asks, his tone flat and voice rough. 

You can’t answer him, too busy hyperventilating and sobbing where you sit. You can’t even think if you wanted to, your body aching as your muscles begin to tighten. You can’t distress. You’ve been fighting the urge since the day the truth came out. 

You can’t trust Simon to help you. 

You’re not even sure he knows how to. 

Of course, it would be easy to call Dr. Keller, get her to help him, but you’re not sure he’d want to. Could he be so angry and betrayed he’d just stand there and watch you distress yourself to death? 

He wouldn’t. He’d have to explain himself to John, why he let it happen. It would tear the pack apart. It would tear them apart. You wouldn’t put it past John to try and rip Simon’s throat out with his teeth in anger. It would be a bigger betrayal than yours, and Simon wouldn’t let you lose your spot at the top of that list. 

“Fuck.” Simon breathes, setting his phone down before moving in front of you. He lowers himself onto one knee, reaching for your arms. If you had been more aware you might have flinched away, but the lack of oxygen to your brain is making everything fuzzy. 

Simon grips your elbows, tugging you forward gently. Your legs are forced off the edge of the couch, your body upright as Simon holds your arms in his grasp, your legs between his as he kneels in front of you. You stare down at him, the sudden change in position shocking you for a moment. You choke around another sob, eyes blurry as you try to look at him. 

“I need you to breathe.” He says, squeezing your arms gently. 

You can’t. 

Your breaths are sobs, wracking your body, tearing at your lungs. Your chest hurts, aching and burning as you quickly begin spiraling out of control. 

“Look at me.” He says, shifting his hold to your wrists, taking them into one hand before he grabs your chin with the other. He keeps your head still, locked on his face. His eyes are blurry to your own teary ones as you look right at him, looking through the mass of blurry black that surrounds him. “Breathe.” He says, his voice rougher than normal, rumbling with the command of his alpha around the edges. 

It goes straight to your head, a shiver running down your spine. Your body shudders in response, your next sob catching painfully in your throat. You cough, lungs spasming as your body suddenly begins to follow his order automatically. Simon lets you go as you attempt to gain control over your out of control body. One part of your brain is still panicking, still pushing towards distress while the other fights to follow the alpha’s command. It’s a battle, your instincts at war with each other. 

The next inhale is a gasp, inhaling until your breath stutters and your lungs ache. You let it out slowly, the flood of oxygen making you shake in Simon’s hold. He keeps his hand around your wrists until your inhales stop stuttering and your muscles start to relax. 

He slowly releases you, pushing himself up to sit on the coffee table. You’re surprised it can hold so much weight after it’s been sat on so many times. Not even a creak as Simon lowers himself onto it. 

He rests his elbows on his knees as he stares at you. His figure begins to get clearer as your tears slow, no longer blurring your vision. You're expecting the sharp sting of his harsh gaze, or worse the indifference you've grown used to over the last three weeks. 

Instead there's a soft look in his eyes. Not soft as you would describe Johnny's, but soft compared to what it has been. Pity, you think. 

“You're a fucking mess.” He finally says. 

You laugh. You can't help it. The deadpan delivery of such a him statement in response to everything has a laugh escaping your lips. You wipe your eyes, sniffling. He hates it, hearing your sniffles. It annoys him when you cry, it always has. 

You push yourself back onto the couch, pulling your knees up again as you stare at him. There's a slight tremble to your fingers still as you sit there in silence for a moment. 

“I'm sorry.” You say, still looking at him. “If I had just said something sooner...” You swallow thickly as you stumble over your words. “None of us would have...the camera would have been found sooner...we wouldn't have...both of us...”

“You shouldn't apologize if you don't even know what to say.” He says, the softness in his gaze hardening again. 

“It's not that it's just...” You take a breath, trying to straighten out your thoughts. “I feel so guilty. This is all my fault and if I had just said something sooner, none of this would have happened. What happens next is my fault too. I know you and John have been digging into who is behind it and I know how risky that is. They know that we all know now, and...I'm scared of what might happen.”

You let out a long breath at your confession and attempt at an apology, squeezing your fingers together as they begin to tremble even more. You want to look away, his gaze piercing into you again. You're reminded of the moment the words had fallen from your lips that had caused this in the first place. Your heart begins thumping in your chest, your breathing picking up slightly at the memory. Will he get angry again? Will he snap at you and drag you down the hall to lock you in your room until John and Kyle get back, or Johnny calms him enough to rescue you?

“I feel so violated.” Your voice shakes. “I can't even imagine what it's been like for you. It took us so long to get to that point and...” You swallow the bile trying to rise in your throat. “I'm so sorry.” Tears blur your vision again. “I didn't know...I didn't think...I was so stupid.”

He scoffs. “You are.” His words are sharp, and they sting as they slice through you. “Fucking stupid, I'd say.” You wince at his words. “But you’re inexperienced. You don’t think about things like we do. No matter how much everyone has tried to drill it into your head, you’ll never truly understand until you experience it yourself.” He holds your gaze for a moment. “I hope you never have to.” 

You stare at him, the meaning of his words not lost on you. You’ve put yourself in danger, you’ve put all of them in danger by keeping this all a secret. Whoever put those cameras up knew you were keeping it a secret and hadn’t done anything in retaliation against you for finding them and destroying them. Maybe that was their plan all along. They knew you’d keep it a secret and use that to their advantage. Strike when they least expected it, or perhaps wait for the moment the truth inevitably came out and then strike. 

The thought has a cold chill running down your spine. 

You’re afraid for a different reason now. 

John and Kyle are gone. Anything could happen to them and it wouldn’t look suspicious. Or whoever put those cameras up wanted everyone split up. Attack when there’s less knights defending the castle. 

A shiver runs through you, making you curl in on yourself. The feeling of being watched is back. The darkness peeking out from around the blinds over the rec room windows suddenly feels very threatening. 

“What’s goin’ on in here?” 

A startled yelp leaves your lips as you whip around to face Johnny where he’s leaning against the door to the rec room. Simon’s body tenses in response to your fearful yelp, an unconscious motion he has no control over. Alphas will always have the drive to protect the omegas in their pack. It’s a natural protective mechanism, no matter how they may be feeling about said omega. 

Simon’s body relaxes as you do, putting a hand over your heart to try and calm yourself down again. 

“Jumpy this evenin’.” Johnny says, entering the rec room. He steps up to the couch, bending down to rest his hands on the arm next to you. “Didnae mean to scare ye.” He says softly. “Ready tae get to bed?” 

You nod. “Yeah. I am.” 

“Come on.” He holds out his hand and you take it, letting him help you up off the couch. “We’re usin’ yer shower, Si.” He says. 

Simon rolls his eyes. “Course.” 

“Simon?” You say before Johnny can pull you from the rec room. The alpha turns to look at you. “I am sorry.” 

He stares at you for a long, tense moment. “I know.” 

Johnny leads you down the hallway, his hand on your lower back. He’s gotten touchy again, letting his hand rest lower and lower on your back, brushing your breasts as he pulls the covers up around you at night. He refuses to let you shower without sitting on the toilet lid. You know the chances of Simon opening up like that again are slim, if at all. You’ve ruined that opportunity, and you’ll have to be satisfied with where he draws that line permanently. 

“Have a good conversation?” Johnny asks. 

You nod. “He called me ‘fucking stupid’.” 

Johnny nearly chokes for a second, covering his mouth to hide a laugh. “He’s certainly not a man of eloquence.” 

You shrug. “I mean, I don’t exactly disagree with him.” 

Johnny leads you into Simon’s room, steering you to the bathroom. Your stuff is already inside from the unanimous decision to solely use Simon’s bathroom for ease and also safety. 

Your towel is neatly on the rack next to Simon’s and Johnny’s, all folded the same way and hung evenly apart. Your soap and shampoo are neatly placed next to his, along with your toothbrush and other products on the sink. Always so neat and organized, despite his anger at you. 

Can’t break his system even after you break his trust. 

You pull your shirt over your head after starting the water, letting it get warm. Johnny stands behind you in the doorway, and you know he’s watching. You strip your shorts and underwear off, Johnny grunting quietly as you bend over to add them to your pile of dirty clothes. You’ve been tempted to leave them on the floor for the past two weeks just to peeve, but you’ve riled Simon up enough. With your luck he’d just toss them in the trash. 

The water is hot as it pelts your skin, your shoulders relaxing as it begins to loosen the stress of the day. The emptiness in your chest continues to eat away at you, never disappearing despite what happens. Your stomach churns, the nausea returning. You stand under the spray, letting the water pour over your head as you attempt to calm the continuous twisting in your abdomen. 

The shower door slides open, another body joining you before it slides closed. Warm skin presses against your back as arms slip around you, pulling you out from directly under the spray. You rest back against Johnny’s chest as he leans his cheek against the top of your head. 

“I miss them.” You say quietly, just audible over the shower. 

“I know.” Johnny says, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. 

“When will they be back?” You ask him, even though you know he can’t tell you. 

“Hard tae say.” He says, grabbing your strawberry scented soap from next to Simon’s. He’s just been using Simon’s soap, something you probably assume he does often anyway. “Kate will update us as soon as there’s a possible ETA.” 

“I don’t know how much longer I can take.” You say as he begins to wash your back. 

“I know.” He says, gently massaging the knots in your back, trying to help you relax. “I wish I could get them home faster. I wish it had been us instead of them for your sake.” 

His words make you feel guilty, but you both know it’s not anyone’s fault. John is your alpha, you belong to him, you were claimed by him. You’ll always hurt more about your alpha and beta’s absence than the other members of your pack can comfort you. If Simon had claimed you, things would have been different. The ache in your chest would have been less intense as you would still have an alpha you could lean on. 

You’d always miss John, but if you had Simon, the black hole slowly devouring you would have slowed its progress. 

Four weeks. 

A month. 

It's been a month since John and Kyle left. The familiar hole in your chest has widened, a gaping black hole now threatening to swallow you and string you out until you’re nothing but particles lost in its center. It’s worse than the hole Simon left when he went on his solo deployment, it’s worse than the hole they all left when they went on their first mission. Neither of those previous deployments lasted this long, and despite Johnny's attempts to console you, you don’t feel any better. 

There’s been no contact. 

A month with no contact, a month with no word. You'd know if something had happened. Even if you got no word on it, you would know. That sense that omegas have when something happens to the bond would be screaming. 

It's been a rough four weeks.

There’s a heaviness that’s started to permeate the air as you try to adjust to the prolonged absence of your alpha. It’s nearly every day that you’re breaking down now, standing in John’s room to catch any whiff of him that’s left. You’ve worn the scent off his bed, his pillows, his clothes. You’ve run out of shirts that smell like him. 

You’re terrified they might fade from your memory entirely. Kyle’s scent had disappeared quicker, fading fast until you were left unable to even picture the sea. The beach is a blurry, distant memory, the smell of the salty air faded and wiped away. 

Still you cling to their shirts, as if you can hold them through the fabric. You carry them everywhere, packing them from room to room as you float around in a daze. 

You’ve left the barracks once in four weeks for a training session that neither of them could miss. You’d gotten looks as you sat there, the sole audience member, but you're not quite sure what had happened or even what the training was far. You had been far away, lost in your own head, the haze of depression and grief numbing you to everything. 

Dr. Keller continues to visit you in the barracks, still more than you normally would see her. You miss her office, the soft warmth of it, the plants and the colors lacking from the sterilized prison that is the barracks. It has become like a prison. You’re trapped inside, unable to even wander around alone. You feel like the princess locked in her tower under the watchful eye of the guards keeping her trapped inside. You need someone to come and rescue you, someone to set you free so you can at least wander the tower alone. 

You want your alpha. 

You miss John and Kyle desperately, their absence chewing away at your insides. The hole in your chest continues to widen as the days pass, consuming more and more of you as you slip deeper and deeper into the black hole of depression. Johnny is being affected too, sucked in by the gravitational pull of the black hole you have become. Even Simon is starting to feel it, softening a bit more towards you. He’d even let your hands brush a couple of times when he’s escorted you places, and he didn’t yank them away like you might pass some disease onto him. 

You wouldn’t necessarily call him affectionate, even before all of this, but this is the first glimpse you’ve gotten of him being back to where the two of you were before you fucked everything up. You know it’s not going to happen overnight. It might never get back to what it was. He might simply be acting out of sympathy, and out of necessity because of your pain and grief being channeled through the pack bonds. Sometimes you wonder if John and Kyle can feel it too from wherever they are in the world. 

You miss them so much it hurts. 

The tears slip down your cheeks as you sit on the couch in the rec room. Johnny is off taking his turn to work out. It’s early, the sky still grey outside, the perfect epitome of how you feel inside. Simon is seated in his usual spot, book in hand. Your own that he had grabbed is still on the coffee table. You’re staring at it, tears gliding down your cheeks as you hold your knees against your chest. It’s become almost a normal occurrence, the tears, the blank staring, the lack of desire to do anything, even the position you’re seated in.

Simon glances up at you as you sniffle again, lowering his book slightly. “What?” His tone isn't annoyed per se, but you know he has to be tired of your constant blubbering. 

“Tell me they’ll be alright.” You say, your voice shaking. 

“You know I can’t-” He starts, but you cut him off. 

“I need you to tell me.” You sob, your gaze lifting to the black screen of the TV. “I can’t take it. I can’t do this.” 

He lets out a sigh, closing his book. You jump as the couch sinks down on your left, Simon taking a seat next to you. The flinch is subconscious as he reaches over to grip your chin and turn your face to look at him. Your tears slide down your cheeks, wetting his fingers. 

“They’ll be alright.” He says, eyes hard as he looks at you. He’s lying but you need to hear it. “They’ve been gone for far longer than this before. Trust Price knows what he’s doing. He’s going to do everything in his power to come back. We’ll know if something happens. Laswell will let us know.” 

You know that, you know all of it. Yet it does little to calm the pain in your chest. “I miss them.” You sob, Simon’s eyes softening as you continue to cry. “My stomach hurts.” 

You’ve been nauseous since the day the truth came out almost five weeks ago. The nausea has been churning in your stomach, making you constantly on the edge of vomiting. It’s the stress, the combination of the truth coming out and your alpha being gone. You’ve been choking food down, eating only out of necessity. 

Simon lets out a sigh, releasing your chin to wrap an arm around you. His other hand drops to rest on your stomach. It’s warm through the fabric of your shirt, applying gentle pressure. He smells like alpha, different from John, but still an alpha. The tears continue to fall as he holds you, your body slowly leaning closer and closer to him. He doesn’t complain, doesn’t even try to push you away as you fall against his side. 

Your stomach is churning, gnawing. It’s not an unusual feeling. It’s felt this way for the last few weeks. It’s never woken you up before, though. You blink in the darkness of Johnny’s room, his arm still thrown over you. The gnawing continues to intensify as you continue to be pulled from your semi-peaceful sleep, becoming more and more aware. 

You’re hungry. 

You slowly unravel yourself from Johnny’s snake-like hold, ready to slip into the rec room to peruse your snack stash. Instead you’re pulled back onto the bed by the arm that slips around your waist. 

“Where ye goin’?” Johnny rasps, still half asleep. 

“I’m hungry.” You whisper. 

He lets out a groan, letting go of you to rub a hand over his face. “Give me a minute.” 

You rise from the bed as he stretches, slowly sitting up as he draws himself from sleep. It’s just past one in the morning, neither of you having been asleep for long. You feel wide awake as the gnawing in your stomach continues to intensify. You rock back and forth on your feet, debating just going and letting him catch up. It’ll force him to wake up faster, and ease the gnawing hunger threatening to turn you inside out. 

Finally Johnny rises from the bed, stretching again as you impatiently open the door. He pads behind you to the rec room, watching as you dig out a bag of chips. He leans against the back of the couch as you stand there, devouring the chips like you haven’t eaten in days. You haven’t really eaten much in the last five weeks, so perhaps it’s finally catching up to you. You finish the bag but it’s not enough, so you grab another, devouring it halfway before you freeze. The bag begins to tremble in your hand, nearly falling from your grasp. 

Johnny is alert immediately as you begin to panic. “What?” He asks stepping closer to you, ready to defend you from whatever has you on edge. 

Your brain frantically does the math, thinking over the last few weeks. The bag falls to the floor as the realization slams into you like a bus. You turn to face Johnny, eyes wide in shock, fear shooting through you like lightning and clouding the rec room in the sour stench of omega fear.

Your lips tremble, the words stuttering out as you fight the panic rising in you, the nauseous churning of your stomach threatening to bring up the bag and a half of chips you just ate. Your fingers are shaking, clenching into fists again as they begin to go numb. Ragged breaths wheeze from your lungs as you stare at Johnny’s worried face, brows furrowed as he tries to understand what has you in a sudden panic at one in the morning. 

“My last heat was eleven weeks ago.” 

“The timeline is right,” Dr. Keller says, taking the blood pressure cuff off your arm. “The symptoms point to pre-heat.” 

You take another bite of your candy bar, eating half out of necessity and half because you’re nervous. You hadn’t even considered this when John left, but of course you didn’t know how long he would be gone. 

“Any word from John yet?” Dr. Keller asks as she packs the blood pressure monitor back into her bag. 

“None.” Johnny says, crossing his arms. “Kate sent out a message, but there’s been no response.” 

You’re numb to that fact, the hope that had filled you two days ago gone now that there’s been no word, not even for something like this. Simon had gone out of his way to call you when you needed him, but John can’t even send a simple message through, even a simple no. 

“We may have to consider alternative options if he can’t get back in time.” Dr. Keller says. 

He won’t get back in time. They’re all saying it silently. They all know it and so do you.

Your hands close into fists. You had hoped with your new pack and alpha you wouldn’t have to go through this again. But, of course with them having to put their job first, this was always a possibility. It was bound to happen eventually, you just hoped it wouldn’t be so soon. 

“We’ll wait as long as we can.” Dr. Keller says, looking at you. “We don’t have forever, though.” 

You shove the rest of the candybar in your mouth. You don’t want to say anything, you don’t want to do anything. You’re numb except for the incessant hunger. You’ll know when it’s getting close, when the hunger fades and you’re facing down the reality that your alpha won’t be here. You know he won’t. Even if Kate can get ahold of him, he won’t make it back in time. 

You’re going to have to do this alone. 

Well...perhaps not. 

Maybe there is someone that can help you after all. 

You’re terrified. You’re not sure how to even approach this, how to bring it up. It’s eating you alive, but you have to ask. You have to know. That small bubble of hope still rising in you that maybe, just maybe you can avoid the horror awaiting you. It’s a big request, but perhaps you can be convincing enough to play to his pity. 

“Simon?” You ask, your hands curled into fists so they’re not visibly shaking. Your hair is dripping onto your shirt, soaking it but you don’t care. The cold is keeping you aware, keeping you from floating away into your head again. 

He grunts, looking up from his phone. You’d used the shower in his room again so he could watch you while Johnny took his own shower. You won’t sleep in here. You’ll stay with Johnny just like you have for the last almost five weeks. It’s safer, should your heat start in the middle of the night again. And also because he doesn’t want you to stay with him.

This is stupid. It’s a stupid decision but you need to know. 

What if he says yes?  

“Can I...ask you something?” You say, shifting nervously on your feet. 

He pockets his phone before pushing himself up to stand. He towers over you as he moves closer, staring down at you as you look up at him. Sometimes you forget just how big he is, just how commanding his presence can be. You fight the urge to cower, to submit to him in fear. “What?” 

The nervous lump in your throat threatens to choke you, the memories of his anger directed right at you burning right through you. What if he gets mad again? What if he reacts the same way? You can’t know what he will do, though. You steady yourself, wrapping the fabric of your shirt around your hands. 

“Will...” You clear your throat. “Will you help me through my heat?” 

It’s a big request. A huge request. You’re asking him to jump past barriers he’d kept up even before, something he’d never even suggested or hinted at wanting to do even before your last heat. You’re asking him to jump past barriers he’s put back up since your betrayal, making it clear you’re not welcome back in, you’re not going to get to where you were before. The most he’s done is let you lean against him that one night in the rec room. 

You hope maybe he’ll agree out of necessity, maybe he’ll take pity on you and save you from the horrors of going through a heat without an alpha. It may be stupid, but you’re terrified of what’s awaiting you if he doesn’t agree. You don’t want to do it, you don’t want to be put to sleep and then wake up a week later sick and disoriented, and then spend the next few days still in the same state. 

It makes your stomach churn, and not from hunger. 

His eyes widen in shock as your words register. His hands tighten into fists at his sides, his shoulders tensing. You fight the urge to flinch at the movement, the sudden hardening of his stance before you. He wasn’t expecting it, obviously. You came out of left field with it, but you have to ask. You’ll beg if you need to. You’ll get on your knees and beg like your life depends on it if he wants you to. Anything just to avoid what’s looming in the near future. 

His eyes harden as he stares down at you, and you suddenly begin to regret your decision to ask. His gaze is piercing, taking you back to when you confessed. You’ve made a mistake. You’ve made a huge mistake. 

“No.” 

The word is simple, two letters, one syllable, yet it slices right through you. You should have expected it, should have known that would be your answer, but it still hurts. He knows, he knows John isn’t coming back in time. He knows you’re going to have to do this alone. You had hoped maybe pity would push him into saying yes, maybe he’d open up a bit more before your heat started, maybe he might be merciful. 

“I can’t.” He takes a step back, then another. His gaze softens to what you almost perceive as panic. He shakes his head. “I can’t.” 

So maybe it wasn’t anger at you keeping him from agreeing. You can feel it, the edge to his scent starting to cloud it, the way his hands open and close as he squeezes them into fists over and over. 

Tears burn your eyes as you stare at him, lifting your hands so they’re laced together in front of you. You knew that would be the answer, yet you can’t stop the disappointment. “Oh.” That's all you can say. You don’t trust yourself to say much else. 

You swallow the lump in your throat as Johnny appears in the doorway, looking between the two of you before his eyes settle on you. He can tell something happened, something transpired between the two of you while he was gone. How much of it he heard, you’re not sure. Perhaps none at all judging by the look on his face. 

“Ready for bed?” He asks, his gaze cautious. He’s trying to assess the situation, figure out what could have transpired to cause such a reaction between you and his alpha. He’ll never know. Not unless Simon tells him. 

“Yeah.” You breathe, scurrying out of Simon’s room before you can make more of a fool out of yourself. 

“H-How long will it take?” You ask, your heart thudding in your chest. Your pre-heat symptoms had stopped earlier this morning, the hunger gone, the itching beginning under your skin. 

“As soon as your temperature goes up, we’ll get started.” Dr. Keller says, sticking electrodes to your chest. You’ve already got the blood pressure cuff around your arm and pulse monitor on your finger. 

“Ye were prepared for this.” Johnny says, sitting next to the hospital bed. You’re in a private room, well away from any others, even though no one will know you’re in heat. There won’t be any scent projecting, no neediness, no aching. You won’t be aware at all that anything is happening as your body rapidly cycles through that sudden flood of hormones. 

Dr. Keller nods. “This was always a possibility, so I made sure I had everything on hand for when it did happen.” She takes your temperature again. “Tell me when you start to feel warm. The last thing I want to do is send you under too late.” 

Your skin crawls at her words, memories flashing back to the time you were put under too late. You trust Dr. Keller to take care of you, though. She’s far more competent and aware than that nurse had been. It’s her job to take care of you, to watch after you in moments like this. 

You just wish you could talk to John before you go under. 

You want to remember his voice when you come back out. 

“I’ll be here the whole time.” Johnny says, taking your hand, obviously sensing your discomfort. 

He’s brought a bag of things with him, since he’ll be staying with you for the few days it’ll take to get through your heat. It won’t be as long this time, your body being forced through those hormones quickly. It won’t even register it needs a knot, flying through those symptoms. 

The wait is the worst part. It takes forever, every minute seeming to take an hour. Johnny waits dutifully by your side. You wish this wasn’t the first heat he would be here for. You wish he had at least gotten some experience with a normal heat, just so this one wouldn’t scare him off. Even Kyle might have been shaken by it, though, even with his experience. 

Eventually the heat begins to prickle under your skin, your heart rate jumping. Johnny calls in Dr. Keller, looking nervous as sweat begins to bead on your forehead. 

“It’s time.” Dr. Keller says, taking your temperature. It’s jumped quickly, your body starting to prepare for the onslaught of hormones about to be released. 

She turns your arm, hooking up the IV that will deliver the sedative as well as fluids to keep you hydrated. The heart monitor beeps rapidly as you grow nervous, Johnny squeezing your hand gently. You know he’s trying, and there’s nothing more he can really do. There’s no stopping this. It’s going to happen no matter what. 

“I’m going to administer the sedative. You’ll start to feel sleepy.” Dr. Keller says. “I’ll put in the feeding tube after you’re out.”

You swallow nervously, sweat starting to bead on your forehead. “It’ll be okay right?” 

Dr. Keller gives you a soft smile “You’ll be just fine. It’ll be a few days for us, but it’ll be a few seconds for you. It’ll be over before you know it.” 

You swallow nervously before nodding. Dr. Keller pushes the sedative through the IV, your body starting to relax as it begins to take effect. The itching under your skin stops, the heat fading as the ceiling gets further and further away as your vision tunnels. Johnny squeezing your hand is the last thing you remember before everything goes dark. 

He’s seen a lot of things, done a lot of things that would make the average person violently ill. He’s no stranger to blood and gore, yet he can’t watch as Dr. Keller inserts the feeding tube into your nose. The thought of having it in his own body makes him nearly gag, his eyes closing as he breathes. 

“I’m done.” Dr. Keller says, a small smile on her face as he turns back around. 

“About gart me boak.” He says, looking at you where you appear to be sleeping peacefully. He supposes you are, blissfully unaware of anything and everything around you.

“You’re not good with needles either, are you?” She asks, obviously noticing how he had turned away when she put in your IV. 

“Not my favorite.” He admits. 

“She’s all set.” She says, stepping back. “You’ll want to move her every few hours, turn her on one side, lift her legs up. Keeps her from getting bed sores or blood clots. I’ll be next door, and I’ll check on her periodically. If anything happens at night, I’ll have my phone on full volume.” 

“Thank ye, doctor.” He says, squeezing your hand despite the fact you can’t feel it. 

Dr. Keller takes her leave, the room going quiet aside from the beeping of the heart monitor, and the occasional buzzing of the blood pressure cuff as it tightens around your arm. He stares at you for a long moment, watching the steady rise and fall of your chest as you sleep. It’s probably the most peaceful sleep you’ve gotten in the last few weeks, despite the changes happening internally. Dr. Keller had explained it to him, the hormonal changes, how sedation works differently than going through a heat consciously. Omegas do go through heat cycles awake and aware without an alpha sometimes. Institutes cycle between isolated heats and sedation. 

The thought of you going through both makes his stomach twist. 

Sweat beads on your forehead as you lay there, something that will continue for the next few days, the doctor said. Your heart rate is higher than normal, another sign that you’re in your heat as your brain cycles through the sudden rush of hormones. He’s not quite sure what to expect, not quite sure what it’ll look like if something goes wrong. He’s never done this before, and the little research he’d done doesn’t feel all that helpful. Dr. Keller trusts him to know, though, and he supposes it’ll be pretty obvious should something go wrong. 

You’re not going to be doing much aside from laying there for the next few days. 

The hours seem to drag on and he can’t help but wonder if this is how Kyle feels during your heats. At least Kyle had a job to do, had to focus and listen for the breaks in between rounds when he’d go in, ensure nothing was wrong, nothing happened, that you’re being fed and taken care of. All he has is the steady beeping of the heart monitor and the occasional buzz and crinkling of nylon as the blood pressure cuff expands. Dr. Keller brings him meals, keeping him fed and occasionally keeps him company as he watches dutifully over you. His back is aching from the uncomfortable chair and the makeshift bed, but he can hardly complain. He’s slept on worse. 

He’s sketched a lot in the silence between watching videos on his phone and napping. It’s been a peaceful time, aside from his initial worry. You sleep away, sweat still beading on your forehead. Every so often he grabs a wet paper towel, wiping away the sweat. 

He jumps as his alarm on his phone goes off in the silence, his pencil falling to the floor. He picks it up, setting his sketchbook to the side before he gets up. He’s careful as he slips his arms under you, easing you over onto your side. He bends your legs, making sure you’re steady and not cutting off circulation anywhere. He runs a hand over your hair, the strands starting to slip out of the braid he had put in before your trip to the med center. 

He moves around to the other side of the bed, pulling the tie out before undoing the braid. He’s careful as he redoes it as best he can, making sure not to pull too tightly on the strands. The last thing you need when you wake up is to feel like your hair is being yanked out of your head. 

He ties off the braid before moving back to his seat, staring at your peaceful face for a moment. It’s nothing new to him, but he can’t help but stare. He’s seen you sleep many times, held you, watched you blissfully unaware of the world. The softness in your face, the worry and the stress and the weight on your shoulders of just being who you are gone. 

He picks his sketchbook back up, going back to drawing. 

His stomach churns nervously. There’s a subtle shake to his hands, something that doesn’t happen often. He likes to think he’s prepared for anything, conditioned enough to not be shaken by anything. Yet he can’t help but feel unsure as Dr. Keller closes off your IV. 

“She’ll be coming out of it soon.” Dr. Keller says. “She’ll be confused, disoriented. She might get combative. Your job is to talk to her, try to calm her and help ease her back into awareness. She’s a crier after heats, so I don’t doubt there will be tears. She may get sick as well.” She gives him a reassuring smile. “It’ll be alright. Coming out of a heat is hard, and so is coming out of sedation. Both at the same time is always a struggle.” 

There was a time he thought maybe sedation would be the easiest way to deal with a heat, but from what he’s hearing, he might have been wrong. Sure it might be easier in the moment to not have those week long symptoms of intense desire, the fever, the desperation. Coming out of it though? From what he’s heard so far, it’s not as easy as it sounds. He’s been through it, coming out of sedation after an injury in the field. It’s a confusing feeling, disorienting enough before you find out days or weeks have passed. It’s hard to conceptualize without all those hormones going crazy in your head. 

You start to stir, your brows pinching as you slowly begin to wake. You let out a groan, reaching for the feeding tube immediately. Dr. Keller gently pushes your hands away, nodding to Johnny. Your brows furrow deeper, a groan leaving your lips as you begin to move more and more. 

“Easy, kitten.” He says, leaning down close to you, projecting his scent so you can hopefully get a whiff of it to help calm you. “I’ve got ye. Yer alright.” He brushes your hair back from your sweaty forehead as you continue to groan. He takes your hand as you reach for the tube again, squeezing it gently.

You crack your eyes open for a moment before quickly pinching them shut. Dr. Keller reaches up, turning off the overhead light before leaning down close to you again. She’s projecting her natural beta scent as well to try and help calm you. “I’m going to remove the tube, I know it’s uncomfortable.” 

Johnny has to look away again as Dr. Keller removes the feeding tube, pressing his face into your hair as he projects his scent even more. You squeeze his hand back, the other gripping the side of the bed. You take in a harsh, gasping breath before you begin to cry, tears spilling out of your eyes as you sob. He had heard that you’re a crier after your heat from Kyle, he’s just never witnessed it before. 

It takes him back to just a few weeks ago in John’s office when you had sat there crying as they interrogated you. It had made him uneasy, the stress and the fear clouding your scent. The fear he’d felt in those moments, listening to you cry and panic, nearly sending yourself into distress before John had calmed you. He might have done more, but he had been angry, angry at whoever put those cameras in your room, and slightly at you for keeping it from them for so long. 

He can’t blame it completely on you, though. That had been back in the time where you still weren’t sure if you could trust them, before you fully opened yourself to them. Maybe they were slightly at fault for not making you feel like you could trust them, for not being realistic with you about the dangers. Sure you had been warned, had it drilled into your head why your safety was paramount, but maybe they had kept too much hidden from you. Maybe they had put you in more danger by trying to keep you safe. 

Your eyes are still pinched closed as you continue to cry, sobs wracking your body as you grip his hand tightly. It tugs at his chest as he whispers quietly against your hair, trying to get you to recognize him, pull you out of the confusion and disorientation you must be feeling. You begin to hyperventilate, your hand slipping from his as you try to push yourself up. Dr. Keller already has the bed lifting, her other hand holding a vomit bag in front of you. It seems almost instinctual, but she’s been through this many times before. She had told him how many during one of their talks, when he’d asked her how long she's been working with omegas. He hadn’t realized just how little he really knew about your doctor before now. 

Johnny has to look away as you vomit into the bag, his own stomach churning. Not just because of you being ill, but also because of how distressing this all seems. How you haven’t gone into distress is a miracle to him, but perhaps you’re still too out of it to be that aware. 

Your breathing has calmed just slightly, your forehead beaded with sweat. Dr. Keller removes the vomit bag from in front of you, grabbing another and setting it on your lap. 

“I’m going to dispose of this.” She says. “She’s going to be sick for a while. I’ll grab more fluids and I’ll be back shortly.” 

Johnny nods, wiping at the sweat on your brow. You lean into his touch, letting out a quiet whine. His touch is gentle, almost scared he might hurt you in your fragile state. You’re still crying, the tears cascading down your cheeks. His chest hurts, guilt and sorrow churning inside of him from seeing you in this state. All thought that sedation was the best option goes out the window as he holds the vomit bag for you, keeping your braid out of the way. 

Kyle had told him about what it was like during your heat and after, partially to feed his curiosity, but also in case something like this happened where he had to be the one taking care of you. He’d heard about the pain, the tears, the disorientation. This is different, though. This is far worse than what Kyle had described to him. 

Dr. Keller returns, IV bag in hand. She removes the empty bag and replaces it with the full one, hooking it up to your IV. You have to be thirsty after a few days of having nothing but a feeding tube and the fluids to keep you going during your fever. 

Johnny catches her hand as she pulls out a syringe, small enough to be discreet. Something tickles in the back of his mind as he stares at it, his instincts on edge. 

“What is that?” He asks, starting to get defensive, his metaphorical hackles rising.  

“Pain medicine.” She says simply, handing it to him. She has to be able to read him, sensing the sudden protectiveness wafting off of him. 

He takes the syringe, reading the label. Morphine. He feels silly for distrusting the doctor. She’s never proven herself untrustworthy. While he knows they can’t be too trusting of anyone, she’s never done you any harm, never given them a reason to suspect her. She wouldn't hurt you, not after the dedication he’s seen from her these last few days alone. 

“She might need it later once she’s more aware.” She continues, taking the syringe back when he hands it to her, putting it back in her pocket. “Her body just went through an intense hormonal cycle and those hormonal levels are now dropping suddenly. It can cause a wide range of symptoms from crying to illness to physical pain. When omegas are allowed to go through that cycle naturally, usually with an alpha, the symptoms of coming down from that cycle are typically less severe compared to when sedation is used, of course besides the physical pain. The pain with sedation is obviously quite different from the pain when the cycle happens naturally with an alpha.” 

Johnny’s brows furrow as he rests his hand over yours, your breaths stuttering through your sobs. Your hands are clutching at the blanket, one of yours he’d grabbed from your room in hopes the familiar comfort might help you through the process. He hates that you’re in pain like this, he hates that you’re in pain at all. He’s beginning to feel the bubbling anger deep in his stomach at Simon for letting you endure this. He has no idea. He’s isolated himself for your safety, and he’ll never get to see what this is like, what you’re going through right now. 

Dr. Keller says your name softly, leaning against the side of the bed, electing to ignore the swirling emotions of her fellow beta. He’s not her concern, you are. “Can you open your eyes for me?” 

You continue to cry, but you manage to get your eyes opened, squinting at her through your tears. Dr. Keller takes your face in her hands, using her thumbs to gently pull down your lower lids, trying to get a good look at your eyes. You try to jerk away, letting out possibly the cutest defiant sound Johnny has ever heard, and he might have reacted had it been a different situation. Instead he leans over the side of the bed again, talking to you quietly so you calm a bit. You do relax at the sound of his voice, his scent projecting even more to try and comfort you, bring you back into reality. 

“There we go.” Dr. Keller says, looking at your eyes before she gives you a soft smile. “Welcome back.” She removes her hands from your face leaning against the bed rail again. “It's all over. You did perfectly.”

You let out another groan, lifting a hand weakly before letting it drop back against your stomach. 

“I know you're thirsty.” Dr. Keller says. “I'll get you some soon. We need to make sure your stomach has settled for now.” 

Your eyes squeeze closed as you start to cry again, your inhales shaky as the tears start sliding down your cheeks. Johnny shushes you gently, petting your hair. Sweat still drips down your face, your hands curling around the edge of the blanket. 

You try to push yourself up to sit, Dr. Keller immediately understanding what you need again as she lifts the vomit bag up to your mouth.

Johnny peels your hand from around the blanket, holding it tightly. His own stomach is churning but he swallows it back, bringing your hand up to his face. He kisses the back, the skin clammy and warm to the touch. Your scent is a swirl of things he’s never smelled before, drowning out the natural sweetness. Kyle had mentioned how your scent and John’s change during the heat and after. He hardly recognizes it right now, and he finds himself missing the sweet scent of strawberries. 

Your fingers squeeze around his as you lay back against the bed, eyes cracked open and sniffling as the tears continue to slide down your cheeks. You let out a groan, tugging weakly at his hand. 

“Hi kitten.” He says, leaning over the bed rail again. “Yer alright. Get ye feeling better soon.” 

Your inhale is shaky, catching in your chest. You weakly tug his hand towards your face pressing your sweaty cheek against his skin. You nuzzle against his hand, your tongue darting out to lick his skin. He can't help but chuckle, wiping at a tear that falls with his thumb. You’re still out of it, but he knows that’s a sign that you’re starting to come through, starting to come back to yourself through the haze. 

You let out a long groan as you pull away from his hand, licking at your lips. They're horribly chapped, almost rivaling Simon's, but at least you have an excuse.

“Thirsty?” Dr. Keller asks, returning to the bedside with a cup of water. “Drink slowly, you'll get sick again.” She warns, holding the straw up to your lips. 

You manage to do as she says and take small sips of the water despite how thirsty he knows you must be. Johnny keeps caressing your face with his thumb, your fingers still laced with his. 

“Let me get your vitals.” Dr. Keller says, setting the cup of water on the table. You let out a groan in protest, smacking your lips, obviously wanting more. “You can have more in a minute. Too much on your stomach could upset it, and I’m sure the last thing you want to do right now is get sick again.”

You let out a quiet grunt, leaning your cheek against his hand once again. Your skin is still a bit warm to the touch, but that could just be from the exertion of trying to come out of sedation and being sick. Dr. Keller takes your vitals once more, recording them on her sheet. She’s been tracking them your entire heat, using them to judge how far along you are since she doesn’t have the benefit of you being awake to track the symptoms that way. He had wondered why she tracked them on paper, but then he remembered John telling him about how Shepherd had requested all of your private records and Dr. Keller’s notes. 

She is smart. He’ll give her that. 

“Things look good, even if you might not feel like it right now.” She says.

You try to shift on the bed but you let out a quiet groan, freeing your hand from his. 

“Hurting?” Dr. Keller asks.

You nod, letting out a whine. It tickles in the back of his brain, his beta wanting to reach out and comfort you, but he knows he can’t. He can’t ease the physical pain. One downside to beta evolution. Their ancestors never learned how to fix physical pain. Maybe that would have made them too perfect. All he can do is try to comfort you through it. 

“Let's get some pain meds in you.” She says, pulling the syringe out of her pocket again. “Then we can get you somewhere more comfortable.”

She injects the pain medicine through your IV, giving it a few minutes to begin working before disconnecting you from all the machines. Johnny helps her get you in a sweatshirt, wanting to keep you warm. You are shaking, though what that might be related to he’s not sure. Perhaps everything. 

Dr. Keller hands him the cup of water. “Keep her drinking. I'll go grab a car, then we can get her back to the barracks.” 

You feel far too light in Johnny’s arms as he carries you from the car into the barracks. Simon is nowhere to be seen, though he hadn’t expected a welcome back party from his alpha. He’s probably still hiding out in his office, or in the gym, his usual hiding spot. Johnny is kind of glad he’s not here, though he would like to rub it in his face, the decision he’d made. 

Johnny takes you to his room, still avoiding yours. It’s almost like a crime scene, Johnny tempted to take it off. He knows placing you in there might make you panic when you wake up after everything. That’s the last thing he wants. So instead he takes you to the place you’ve spent the last almost six weeks in, somewhere you’ll recognize the scent and be comfortable when you wake up. 

You roll onto your side as soon as he lays you down, curling up on his blankets. He drapes yours over you, tucking it around your shoulders before he steps back out into the hallway. 

“Keep her hydrated. Lots of water, tea, clear sodas.” Dr. Keller instructs him. “She'll be drowsy for a while because of the pain medicine. Give her a couple hours and once the pain meds wear off and her stomach settles a bit, try her with some bland foods. She did well with mashed potatoes after her last heat. She’s going to be out of it and sick for a few days. Keep an eye out for anything abnormal. Vomiting blood, can’t keep food down, if she complains about pain somewhere or is hard to wake, give me a call.” 

“Got it.” Johnny nods, committing everything she’s told him in the last ten minutes to memory. 

“You did really well.” She says, giving him a soft smile. “You should be proud of yourself.” 

“Thank you, doctor.” He nods, internally beaming at her praise. 

“Keep me updated, and don’t be afraid to call.” She says. 

He watches her walk to the door, Simon’s door opening as soon as she’s gone. He at least looks guilty, like the shame is eating him alive. Johnny hasn’t seen him like this in a long time, not since he caused you to distress. It makes him a little too happy to see him in such a state. 

“How is she?” He asks, not moving from in front of his door. 

The sound of you vomiting into a vomit bag reaches their ears. Simon at least has the decency to flinch at the sound. It’s subtle, probably unnoticeable had Johnny not been able to read his alpha like a book. 

“Sick.” He says, trying to hide his anger and disappointment. They’re complex feelings. He knew Simon would turn you down if you asked for his own reasons, but now after seeing what happens when there’s no alpha available during a heat, he almost hates Simon for doing this to you. “Confused. Still a bit out of it.” 

“You know I couldn’t do it.” Simon says, using that uncanny ability to read everyone around him. 

Johnny hates it sometimes.

He turns to glance at you through his open door as you continue to be sick. You’re going to be miserable for the next few days, likely more than you are usually after your heats. This one will be less physical pain after taking knots for a week straight, and more pain from being sedated, pain from being mostly immobile, pain from just being alive and carrying this status. Such pain omegas live with, physically, mentally, emotionally. 

He hates it. 

“Ye don’t know what it was like.” He says, his hands closing into fists. “Seeing her like that.” 

You let out a long whine, a sob tearing from your chest as you inhale. Tears prick behind Johnny’s eyes as he holds Simon’s gaze. “Ye just had to say no.” He shakes his head, turning to go back into his room. 

He doesn't want to tell you. He can see the look on your face already. The disappointment. The pain. The agony. He can smell the souring of your scent already, the painful grief filling it and there will be nothing he can do to ease it. It's a rare moment they've left you alone in the last month and a half, forced to after a call with Kate and Shepherd.

He's not even sure how to approach it. 

He opens his bedroom door slowly, his stomach clenching as he looks in at you. You're on the bed, wrapped in a blanket where he left you, cuddled against your big bear. He doesn't want to wake you, especially not for this but he has to. He has no choice. You have to know. 

He lets out a sigh as he sinks down on the edge of his bed, gently putting a hand on your shoulder. “Kitten?” He shakes you gently. “Kitten, wake up.”

You inhale sharply, startling awake despite his attempt to be gentle. There’s a sharp spike of fear in your scent for a moment as you’re yanked from sleep suddenly, but it fades as soon as you realize where you are and who is with you. You turn over onto your back, winding up resting against his knee as you rub your eyes. 

“Johnny?” You croak, still partly asleep. 

“Si and I just got off a call with Kate.” He says carefully, not wanting to scare you too much. 

You're wide awake immediately, pushing yourself up to sit. You swallow nervously, your scent already souring. “What is it?” Your voice wavers as you ask, eyes already shining with tears. 

“John and Kyle are fine.” He says, regretting not starting with that. He can see the temporary relief on your face. “But, they need some backup for this one.” 

It takes a moment for your brain to process his words. A hole tears through the center of his chest as he watches the realization hit, your face falling as your scent begins to sour even more. Your arms wrap around yourself as you stare at him, the relief gone from your face as you stare at him. He swallows the lump in his own throat, your scent causing his beta to stir, the drive to comfort you itching in his brain. He can’t though, he can’t comfort you through this. 

Your voice shakes, a tear sliding down your cheek as you figure out what it is he woke you to say, why Kate had called. Your inhale is shaky, catching in your chest before you speak. 

“You're both leaving too, aren’t you.” 

NEXT ->

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[exhuastedpigeon]

Sometimes I sit back and think about how almost all of the most insane and unhinged stuff about Buddie is stuff that, before getting into 9-1-1, I thought was fanon.

I started watching at the end of s6 and binged watched s1-s6 and I thought I was getting into another show where two guys stand near each other and the fandom ran with it and instead I got Buddie. I was sitting there watching being like.. wait this is all in the actual show? I thought it was all fan created stuff.

-> Eddie's introduction being set to "Whatta Man"? I thought that was a fan edit. -> Buck getting bashful after Eddie says "You can have my back any day" felt like something you'd see in fanon until you watch it ant realize it's canon. -> The entire Christmas elf scene -> Eddie holding Buck's hand while Buck is trapped under the ladder truck -> "There's no one in the world I trust with my son more than you" with Ed Sheeran playing over it??? CANON???? -> "Wanna go for the title" -> Buck digging at the earth like he could get to Eddie through 40 feet of mud is canon???? -> Eddie seeing flashes of Chris and Buck while he was buried under ground was canon and not an edit (this one blew my mind I'm not gonna lie to you). -> Chris ran to BUCK when he was mad Eddie was dating someone. -> The whole "construction on sunset" scene being that domestic blew my mind too. What do you mean that was actually in the show. -> The entire shooting scene? I genuinely can't believe we got that one shot of them just staring at each other in slow motion -> "Just say with me" -> THE WILL??? I truly thought that was fanon until I watched it with my own two eyes. -> Buck and Chris spending time together without Eddie (Eddie's line about Buck taking Chris to the zoo all the time in s5 I was like.. I've read this fic before) -> Buck canonically worrying about Eddie's health and mental health in s5? How is that canon and not fanon? -> Chris calling Buck during Eddie's breakdown truly blew my mind. That was in canon. When Chris was scared and worried about his dad he called Buck! -> THE LOVE HEART BUCK DREW?? THAT WAS CANON?!? -> The small moments we get of them (both together and with Chris) that just have a different vibe than when they're hanging out with other characters. Again I thought that was fanon and it turns out, nope it's just canon. -> Eddie running up the ladder without a safety line to get to Buck (screaming Buck's name) when Buck was struck by lightening. -> EDDIE CALLED BUCK COWBOY! THAT HAPPENED IN CANON TOO?! -> Eddie yelling "DO MORE" when the get Buck to the hospital after the lightening. -> Poker night? The same episode when all the canon couples were on dates Buck and Eddie actually got dressed up and Eddie took Buck to a secret poker game? IN CANON! That isn't fanon either??!? -> Buck's entire "Eddie, Eddie, Eddie, Eddie" moment in 704. He was about to be kissed by another man and he said Eddie's name, what? 7 times? -> Buck being SO nervous about telling Eddie about his date with Tommy. Like just freaking out for an entire episode. -> THE BACHELOR PARTY?!? Those two being in cahoots is another thing that I thought was fanon at first and then you get moments like that and you're reminded it's canon. -> Buck being who Eddie turns to when he needs parenting support because he sees Buck as a co-parent of some sort. I still can't believe that's canon. Like in the text of the show Eddie has turned to Buck for parenting support multiple times. -> Buck being there when Chris left with his hand on Eddie's shoulder. Again, so insane that it's canon.

Anyway, this list is in no way comprehensive since there's a lot of other stuff in canon that I thought was fanon, but my god the list is already so long I don't think I need to add more. I didn't even touch on the casual touches and the way they're almost always looking at or for each other when they're in scenes together.

[groovyangelkisses]

just need to give old man logan some love yk, let him rest his head on some titties and bandage his wounds and also suck his dick

oh i understand you completely, sweetpea! i hope you enjoy my thoughts on your headcanons! ᡣ𐭩

nsfw (minors do NOT interact, please)— age gap (all my readers are 21+!), oral (male recieving), objectification of female body parts, tad bit of dacryphilia & dumbification, "kid" used as an affectionate nickname, logan being infatuated <3

logan is absolutely a tits man, i don't make the rules! he loves to watch them heave in your suit when you're out of breath on a mission, or bouncing as you descend the stairs— you name it, his eyes are occupied with you. a lot of times you catch him staring down your shirt, whispering to himself "so soft" as he ogles your cleavage. and when you're sitting away from him, back facing him as you rest on a rickety wooden chair, watching out of the window, he'll come up behind you, big hands gripping your chest harshly in his warm, calloused palms before tutting "missed my girls" with a big squeeze. <3

and you bandaging him after a mission gone wrong? he'll whine out "ah jesus christ- i'm fine doll, really" and you'll fuss over him even more.... but guess what? he secretly loves when you fuss over him. giving him all your attention and touching him so gently while scolding him for getting himself hurt. granted, he will heal instantly because of his mutation, but just imagine him getting a random nose bleed in the middle of the night. you cooing "oh honey, lemme help you" and, like always, he'll feel like he needs to push the love away, but he'll relent for you. always and only for you. he'll sit on the toilet seat lid, one leg extended out in the small bathroom while his other stays bent so you can sit on it. he likes seeing your eyes widen, hearing your little gasps and the sweet, genuine hearts in your eyes when you get to hold him and provide for him for once. and he just can't stop himself, squeezing your ass and thighs as you hold the tissue to his nose "'m all better now babydoll, promise. see?" before raising his hand to the back of your neck and lightly pulling you forward, the ghost of a "c'mon gimme a kiss... so good to me... so good to your old man" on his lips. ahhhh!!!!!

and when it comes to head? logan is sooooo cocky. i mean, naturally he loves how sweet you are to him; how absolutely and utterly loving and obsessed you are with him. and trust me, he feels the exact same way, maybe even a little more than you, too. he'd absolutely hold your cheeks in his palms, cradling you as you suckle at him with teary eyes and red knees. his thumbs will rub against the apple of your cheeks, and he'll do his best to hold eye contact, even though he desperately feels the need to flutter his eyelids and groan so loud that the entire ground shakes. manspreading, he'll move and jut his hips out with a hiss, whispering "fuckin' good, always so fuckin' good... you hearin me, kid?" and that's when he'll notice the stars in your eyes. sure, you always look at him with a dazed gaze, able to let down your guard and fully be in your element from dating such an intimidating, but gentle and masculine man. but this, this is a different look. a look that shows just how far gone you are. spit on your chin, tears on your cheeks and some of his precum resting on the tip of your nose. so dumb for him. this alone makes him cry out, his head rolling back, his thick neck stretching & his eyes squeezing shut after he finally can't take anymore and tears them away from you with an "ah, ah fuck ah fuck!" as he finishes with his hands holding your head completely still— wanting you to take him all. and once he catches his breath, his hands stay there, a gruff "cmon baby.. cmon eat me up, know you can" until you swallow for him... <3

[nereidprinc3ss]

do you believe me now? | 8

it's the morning after. spencer reid suspects you’re left with some doubts after losing your virginity to him. he has to figure out why—which is hard when you're keeping secrets.

series masterlist

this series is 18+ warnings/tags: fem!reader, blood related to losing virginity (dramatized for the drama duh), super vague allusions to the BAU being hungover, mild blasphemy if anyone even cares, pondering god bc am I really a fanfic writer if I don’t get a little religious w it, emily AND hotch are here and nobody knows why pls don't pay attention to that bc we are imagining like season 11/12 spencer and I'm inconsistent w who is unit chief in this series apparently, spencer slut lore, spencer emotional wounds lore, Spencer is a traumatic situationship survivor a/n: DADDYS HOMEEEEE (me and dybmn not spencer) anyway missed these little guys and am happy to be writing for them again!! idk what my upload schedule will becoming back to this but pls lmk what u think of this part, I have no idea how you will respond but I'm being brave and ily

Friday morning Spencer comes into the office fifteen minutes late (he tried his best), in yesterday’s suit (everything in his go-bag had been too wrinkled), hair messy (no doubt from your fingers), coffee cold (he’s exhausted) and overall, in an excellent mood.

The rest of the team isn’t faring quite as well—Spencer gathers they stayed at the bar celebrating Derek’s birthday a lot later than he had. It shows through sallow skin and dark circles and the grimaces he receives on the way to his desk that are probably supposed to approximate good morning’s. 

Honestly, he doesn’t mind the dull mood—he doesn’t need the teasing and the prying questions that would be sure to come if his co-workers were at peak performance and were able to put together his unusually perky demeanor and disheveled appearance. At least Prentiss doesn’t appear to be paying him any mind. She’s always the one who can read him like an open book and has no shame in doing so aloud. Echoes from years of, ‘so who was the lucky girl, last night, Reid?’ Still ring through his mind and it’s like he can feel her finger prodding at his side. 

The Emily of it all makes him smile, though the rest of the memory leaves a metal tang in his mouth. Back in those days, there were sometimes a lot of girls, but even then he was consciously aware he wasn’t necessarily doing something he enjoyed. He spent a lot of time, actually, staring at his bedroom ceiling, psychoanalyzing himself. Repetition compulsion. The insatiable desire to repeat or reenact emotionally painful experiences. Maybe he thought if he could teach himself to subsist off of emotionless hookups, he could in some way heal from his experience with Elle. Though, he’s hesitant to think of it now as healing—it’s not like he didn’t know what he was doing when a few nights after she said I don’t feel the same I’m sorry he opened up his front door for her. It’s not like he didn’t know what he was doing every time after that. So, maybe heal isn’t the right word, when one doesn’t have the right to be injured. Or when the injuries are, in a manner of speaking, self-inflicted. At the very least he could tell himself that this time around, meaningless sex was a choice he was making for himself. Spencer hates when things just happen to him. 

But you—you’re different. You were a complete surprise. At first, a cute and unexpected complication. After a few painful and short-lived attempts at real relationships, Spencer decided he was simply not to be trusted with emotional intimacy of any kind, including that which inevitably develops from physical intimacy, and would resign himself to a life of celibacy. He tried not to like you, but you were just so damn likable. Magnetic, to use a trite and perfectly honest turn of phrase. All that to say: he doesn’t regret you at all. There is no filter of putrid shame or anguish over his memories of last night. 

Just you. Perfect. Starlit. Glowing softly around the edges like you’re not even real. 

I love you I love you I love you. A hymn with no melody. You, always reminding him exactly why he is decidedly not a man of faith. At least, not in the typical sense of the word. 

How God became the idol and not Mary is lost on him. That’s why, Spencer supposes, tapping an eraser on his desk, marriage and sex were forbidden for so many ecclesiastics. After all, if they knew what it was to love a woman, specifically to love you, he doubts they’d feel like spending much time in the pulpit. Love. Humans had that long before they had any gods. It’s primeval. It’s the most natural manifestation of devotion and worship. It will always have come first. Isn’t it a better kind of religion when a man realizes he can kneel in front of a woman rather than an altar?

A heavy hand falling on his shoulder jolts him from his theological musings—which are in all practicality useless. What’s that saying about blasphemous thinking on the FBI’s dime? Right. There isn’t one. 

“I’m scared to ask,” Morgan says as Spencer jumps slightly in his chair. 

“What?” He mumbles, looking up from the document he’d only sort of been reading.

Morgan just looks at him, strong brows furrowed and a ditch between them, angles his head and glances to the side as if Spencer is missing the obvious. He almost follows Derek’s eye-line. When that doesn’t work, Derek just says your name. Like your status is somehow in question. 

“Did you two work things out, or not? It looked pretty bad when you guys were leaving last night.”

People often misunderstand an eidetic memory. It’s not like things can’t slip his mind—Spencer can actually be quite forgetful. It’s made worse by the fact that last night at the bar feels like months ago. For a moment, he has no idea what Derek is referring to. 

“Oh. Oh! Right, we—right. Yeah, we, uh—we worked it out.” Before Derek has a chance to read his face, no doubt as incriminating as his fumbled speech and an ill-timed throat clearing, he turns back to his paperwork. “Thanks for keeping an eye on her at the bar. I appreciate that.”

It’s quiet for a moment, and Spencer’s lips twist as he can feel the incoming inappropriate comment. 

“Is that the same suit you were wearing last night?” Morgan quips, his wide grin audible. Spencer can practically hear the cartoon gleam of his friend’s bleached teeth. 

“No.”

“You dog.” Derek is still smiling as he claps Spencer’s shoulder again. “What did you say to her that worked so well?”

Spencer clears his throat again and tries to look extremely involved in logging onto his computer, speaking quickly as if he’s beyond disinterested and can’t wait for the exchange to be over. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m actually trying to work so if you wouldn’t mind going back to your desk that would be great.” 

“Uh-huh. I’ll let you work. But I see you, pretty boy.”

Spencer tries not to blush like a teenager as he refuses to look up. 

Naturally the rest of the day is a slow descent into dread and madness as all those good feelings with which Spencer had started his morning begin to harden into something much worse, chilled by your lack of response to the text he sent you earlier. Which was essentially a rehashing of the note he left on your bedside table. 

Maybe it was too much. It should’ve been one or the other, but not both. He’s overwhelmed you. 

Okay, so maybe this is what religion is for. A last ditch effort when you can’t talk to your girlfriend so you have to try talking to God. 

But Spencer knows you, and he knows something is wrong. You wouldn’t just ice him out so blatantly if everything was okay. He catches himself glancing up toward Hotch’s window to see if the blinds are drawn, and considers faking an illness to get out of work early and go check on you. But he powers through the remaining hour and a half that he is obligated to stay at work, he bounces a pencil between his fingers, drums at his desk, and gets nothing else done. As soon as 4:59 rolls around, he’s out. 

Spencer can hear shuffling on the other side of your door as he stands in the hallway. A pot clatters. The walls hum with the rush of water through the pipes to your sink. He knocks, relieved that you’re okay and at the same time struggling with that weight on his chest—something cold that leans over his shoulders and whispers into his ear—so she just didn’t want to talk to you. 

Suddenly all sound from inside your unit ceases. For a few long seconds, Spencer’s confusion only grows exponentially. 

“Who is it?” You finally call, voice wavering. Also odd. Usually you just open the door. 

“Um… Spencer?”

“As in my boyfriend Spencer?”

He frowns, bottom lip jutting out ever so slightly as he tries to decipher your sudden paranoia. “I hope so?”

The click and jingle of several locks precipitates your much-anticipated reveal. 

“Come in,” you say breathlessly, more harried than usual and not giving him the tender greeting he’s selfishly become accustomed to—barely even giving him a second to look at you. But he steps inside, watching on in concern as you do up every single lock—the one on the knob, the deadbolt, even the chain. Is this really all because of his little comment last night about anyone being able to get in? He certainly hopes not. He didn’t mean to terrify you. 

When you finally turn, he takes stock of your appearance. Big hoodie, pajama pants patterned in little hearts. Hair pulled back hastily. Your skin is sort of dull where you normally glow. But you’re beautiful, like always. It always aches just a little bit to look at you. Spencer’s always been like that. Going breathless at a particularly good piece of art or pretty girl. Like yourself. Mostly you. 

You quickly turn to hurry back into the kitchen. “I was trying to make dinner, I—”

“Hold on,” he interrupts, stopping you with a hand on your stomach that is so non-demanding it’s really mostly a suggestion. He tries to clear his head, though you make it hard. “You didn’t talk to me all day. Not that you have to, but… I was worried.”

You glance at the floor and mumble, “I lost my phone,” with so much embarrassment he believes you’re telling the truth. “Did you, um—did you text me?”

Insecurity. Spencer knows well what it looks like on you. He softens. You weren’t ignoring him—but you’d been left in a vulnerable state without any ability to contact him or anyone. That couldn’t have been comfortable. 

“Of course I did.” He pauses to observe you. Still anxious. Still prepared to run at any second. Something, and he’s not sure what, did a number on you today. Maybe it’s sheer exhaustion, maybe it was the anxiety of not having your phone. But he has to figure out what it is so he can undo it. “What? What’s wrong?”

He watches your breathing pause—watches your eyes gloss over with tears and a frown contort your features. Oh, god. He’s done something terribly wrong. It’s been thirty seconds and he’s done something wrong. 

“Can we sit down? I don’t feel very good.”

“Yeah. Yeah, we can. Whatever you need.”

You cast a baleful look at him and now he has to wonder what that means. Spencer sets his bag on a pulled out dining chair and follows you to the couch where you settle on opposite sides—you’re curled up in the far corner, hugging a pillow to your chest with your legs folded in front of you. Spencer’s heart is beating fast. He doesn’t know what’s going on with you and he can’t figure it out just by looking and you don’t seem eager to tell him. 

He’s exhausted all his typical ways of collecting information, and now he’s at a loss. 

Eventually, the anxiety comes bubbling up. 

“Please talk to me,” he pleads. And you do. Almost instantly, like he stepped on some sort of landmine. 

“I know it’s my own fault for not having my phone on me and not being able to see your texts, but it really sucks that I had to find out from my creepy neighbor that you snuck out in the middle of the night without saying goodbye.”

The whiplash is so strong it’s almost a broken neck. Spencer reels, frowning deeply as he tries to process your impromptu speech, the sudden confrontation. What creepy neighbor?

“I… didn’t. I went to grab my stuff from the car around one, but I came right back. I left at 7:30. You don’t remember me saying goodbye?”

Your brow furrows, and your eyes dart over the design on the rug like you’re watching memories go by. He sees it in your eyes when you recall some hazy image of him holding your face, kissing your cheek more times than was necessary and whispering sweet things against your lips before he had to go. You shrink into the couch, clearly struggling under the combined weight of relief and embarrassment. 

“I forgot. I thought… he said…”

A moment passes and it’s clear you’ve abandoned the sentence. Spencer is concerned about this shadowy male figure who put malicious untruths into your head. He slides his hand under yours and twines your fingers together. Finally, finally you meet his gaze. 

“Someone made you believe I left without saying goodbye.”

And he almost wishes you weren’t looking at him as more tears pool before falling down your cheeks. You nod, and don’t make a sound. 

“No, honey. I didn’t do that. I’m sorry that’s what you’ve been thinking all day.”

“I was worried that you… or that I wasn’t…”

His chest aches. You’d woken up alone, no recollection of his goodbye, and without the comfort of even a text. 

“You didn’t see my note?”

The way you look at him then is heartbreaking. Eyes wide and wet and sad, lip trembling. 

“You left a note?”

Murphy’s Law. Anything that can go wrong, will. 

It must’ve fallen off the bedside table, or maybe he just hadn’t positioned it obviously enough. 

A lost phone, a missed note, and not even a memory of his departure. While none of these things are verifiably Spencer’s fault, he feels so, so guilty. 

“I did,” Spencer says gently, scooting closer and pulling you into him, head pressed to his shoulder as you try not to cry, and he rubs your back slowly. 

Your sulky words are muffled by his shirt. “I didn’t see it. What did it say?”

“A lot of very nice things about you,” he whispers. Spencer thought maybe he could get away with giving you all the sincere compliments you can’t accept face to face through a note you could read while he wasn’t around. That way you couldn’t refute them or stop him. It was a good plan. 

He feels the sigh of relief leaving your body against his neck. 

“I didn’t know.”

“I know. I’m sorry. That’s not… I should’ve just stayed. This is my fault.”

You keep your cheek pressed to his shoulder as you speak. 

“It’s not. You have a job. A really important job. You can’t just call out whenever I want you around.”

Logically he knows you’re right, but he doesn’t always think logically around you. 

“I could’ve made it work. I could’ve come in late, or the team could’ve called me if there was a case, which there wasn’t—”

“Spencer, it’s okay. It’s not your fault. Don’t worry about it.”

He pulls back slightly, frowning at your tone. You do look relieved, much less plagued than you’d been when he arrived minutes ago, but something heavy still weighs you down. The burden of it darkens your eyes and dulls your expression. When he cups your cheek, you glance up at him, and then away once more. 

He speaks softly. “Is that all you wanted to tell me?” 

Again he earns a moment of your eye contact, but it’s fleeting. He watches the words spin around your head as you try to figure out what to do with them—and then choose to remain silent. 

There is in fact something you’re keeping from him. 

Spencer hates to use work tactics on you, but he doesn’t speak either, hoping that you’ll feel compelled to fill the silence with the truth. Knowing how you’re not entirely comfortable with quiet. 

And you try, lips parting and the sound delayed as you wrestle with something you clearly don’t know how to talk about. 

“I… my neighbor,” you say, frowning like you don’t quite know why you’re speaking. “The one who told me he saw you leaving in the middle of the night. He also—he said…”

Spencer brushes hair away from your cheek with a thumb, stroking the high point in gentle passes as your words taper off. Now that he’s thinking about it, he did encounter a man in a dumpy robe standing in the courtyard and smoking a cigarette when he left you tangled in sheets and dozing contentedly to get his bag from the car. In fact, they rode back up to your floor in the elevator in mostly awkward silence. Spencer was sure his outfit told a story—shirt untucked and hastily buttoned only partway, no belt, shoes barely tied, duffel slung over his shoulder—he wasn’t really expecting to run into anyone at such an hour, to be honest, but he hadn’t particularly cared what this man thought of him, so it didn’t cross his mind again.

Now he remembers. 

Long night, huh? I remember those days. 

It was an inappropriate comment, but given his job he’s used to ignoring those. Mostly his mind had been preoccupied with the idea of returning to you, who gave him such a warm and sleepy welcome when he climbed carefully back into your arms several minutes later that it was like he’d never known anyone else at all. 

Now he resents that he hadn’t said anything, he hates the idea that you spoke to this man and he said something to upset you and Spencer wasn’t there. Usually he tries not a judge a book by its cover (metaphorically, of course) but he’s been around enough bad men to know when he’s looking at one. Last night he hadn’t even been cognizant enough to realize they got off on the same floor. 

“What did he say, angel?” Spencer whispers, incapable of being anything but soft with you at the moment. Even though he senses something a lot like a tide of preemptive anger rising in his chest, painted over with layers of anxiety and guilt. He should’ve found a way to stay with you this morning. 

You sniffle and let your head fall again, forehead resting against his collar. Instinctively his hand slides to the back of your neck and even at the awkward angle he finds a way to press his lips to yours hair. “Can we talk about it later? I don’t feel good.”

If it’s making you this uncomfortable, Spencer really wants to know what passed between you and this neighbor. In fact, he’d be willing to bet a lot of your strange behavior this evening stems from something that occurred which you don’t feel comfortable telling him yet. But he manages to bite back anymore questions. He doesn’t want to make you feel interrogated. 

“Yeah, you mentioned that,” he says eventually, kindly, hand tracing down the length of your back and up again. “Why don’t you feel good?”

He doesn’t miss the way you reach up to discreetly wipe your cheek. But he won’t make you talk about anything you don’t want to talk about until you’re ready, and it seems like you’re already having a rough day. Which is not what he wanted. This is so far from what he wanted for you. He’s cursing himself for how he handled this whole situation. 

“Um, I just… I don’t know. I feel… bad. I’m sorry I’m being so weird.”

“You’re not being weird, honey. You had a hard day. You’re having a normal reaction to an abnormal set of circumstances.”

You sit up, sniffing and wiping your tears like you can just make the whole thing go away. 

“No, I am. I am. It’s all okay now, right? So I don’t know why I feel like this. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

He watches helplessly. “Nothing is wrong with you. We’ve… it’s been a big couple of days. Mostly good, but I think you’re probably really tired. Emotionally and physically.” 

You bury your face in your hands and nod silently. He still feels like he’s shooting in the dark, but you’re not entirely comforted yet, and it’s killing him. 

“Whatever you’re feeling is okay. If this is… about last night, or this morning, or something entirely different—regardless of what it’s about, you’re not going to be… in trouble with me if you’re having complicated feelings. And you can talk to me. But it doesn’t have to be right now. We don’t have to figure it out all at once, okay?”

You press the heels of your palms into your eyes, and for a moment, his words sink into silence. When you do raise your head, nodding, the evidence of your discomfort is all over your face—reddened eyes, cheeks polished with wiped tears. But you take a deep breath and try to project whatever it is you think he wants to see. 

The back of your hand is soft under his thumb as he sweeps it, as if he could draw forth more information that way. People speak when they’re ready.

“Is there anything I can do?” He tries, all ramped brow and soft spoken. 

You’re looking at where he’s tracing swirls on your hand as you swallow and blink the last of your tears away. 

“Um… you can say no, but—do you think it would be okay for you to maybe stay again tonight?”

Spencer sucks in a breath, painfully aware that he’s about to let you down. 

“I… I haven’t been home in a week. I’ve been wearing this suit for two days straight and I don’t think I would want to share a bed with me again until I shower.” He watches you wilt and lifts a hand to stroke your hair. “But I do want to spend time with you… do you maybe want to come stay with me instead? No pressure—”

“Okay. Yes. Is that okay?”

Spencer’s brow knits. You seem even more enthused about the idea of going to his apartment, like now that the opportunity has presented itself you can’t wait to get out. Maybe you have some sort of black mold problem. 

“Of course. Do you wanna grab a few things and then we can go?”

“Um—I also haven’t showered today. Do you mind waiting?”

“Sure. Or you could use mine. With supervision, this time.”

Spencer is attempting to make a joke about your unplanned (and unmoderated) stay at his apartment last week after he left—but looking at your face now he’s wondering if he touched a nerve. 

“Like… one at a time? Or…”

He thought maybe you’d be more comfortable around him after last night—and it’s not like he hadn’t seen you naked before then, either.

“Do you wanna do it one at a time?” He asks gently. 

There’s this sparkly sort of longing in your eyes that he’s seen before, but you tamp it down like always. You’re so cautious. About everything. Even the things you’re curious about. It’s sweet and a little sad. 

“I’ve never… showered with anyone.”

The corner of Spencer’s mouth twitches as he pushes hair over your shoulder. “I know. You don’t have to. We could save like 100 gallons of water depending on how long your showers typically last, but—”

“Spencer—”

“Sorry, sorry—I didn’t—I didn’t mean it like that. I’m not trying to pressure you. You absolutely can take your own shower. You can go first so you get the hot water.”

“No,” you laugh, and it’s like a sparkling cloud of gold has settled around you, fractals bouncing off the shine of your cheeks and eyes—the sound of your laughter, the look of it, is such beautiful relief he can’t believe how good it feels, but it fades from you quickly. “It sounds… I think I want to, I just… I don’t wanna, like… do… anything.”

For a split second your veiled language mystifies him and then he realizes what you’re trying to say without saying. Something has changed since yesterday, when you brazenly referred to it as fucking, and today, when you can’t even say sex. He’s gotten as far as it being something your creepy neighbor said. Maybe. He needs to know what. 

But that’s not the topic at hand. 

“We don’t have to. I didn’t mean to imply that we would do anything like that. I don’t expect anything from you.”

You swallow. 

“Okay. I wasn’t sure.”

About what?

He says your name. No response. 

“Can you look at me, please?”

It takes you a moment, and your head raises like you might need some oil in your hinges, but eventually you manage. Spencer hopes the way he’s rubbing your leg is comforting. 

“You know I’m never, ever going to make you do anything you don’t want to do, right?”

To his horror, your answer isn’t an immediate and resounding yes. Instead you look back down and cover his hand with your own, fiddling nervously with his fingers. 

Eventually, you reply, “Yeah… I know. I just thought… I’m not sure. Maybe it’s supposed to be different now.”

“It doesn’t have to be. Nothing has to be different. We’re still doing everything on your schedule, okay? And as for the next few days, at least—I think it might be a good idea to take sex off the table altogether.”

Your eyes narrow and you hesitate. “Why?”

“Because I don’t want you worrying about it. And I don’t think it would feel good for you right now. I think there are things we need to talk about, but… we’ve probably tried enough for a while, hm?”

You give him a shy nod and hum your agreement. For a moment he lets his hand linger on your leg and then pulls it back. 

“Okay. Do you want my help packing a bag, or should I wait out here?”

“You can wait. It should only take a minute.” You pause, halfway up to look pensive. “Um, Spencer—do you think it would be okay if maybe I… if I stayed tonight and tomorrow? I just—I wanna get out of here, for a bit.”

He frowns but doesn’t hesitate. “Of course. Can I ask why?”

“It’s just… suffocating sometimes,” you call as you turn and hurry down the hallway to the bedroom. “Feels like my neighbors are on top of me, like they’re… breathing down my neck, half the time.”

Sure, bigger apartments exist—but it’s not like you’re in a studio. And you’ve never mentioned feeling that way before. That bad feeling is starting to come back—like you’re not telling him something he needs to know. But is it worse to let you deal with it yourself until you’re ready to talk or to force it from you?

A few minutes later you return, a duffel of your own over your shoulder and full to bursting. 

“So I’m an idiot. My phone was literally in the pocket of my jeans on the floor.” You drop the bag as you bend down by the door to pull on your favorite slippers. “Oh—I think I forgot my charger, can you grab it? It’s by my bed.”

Spencer of course obliges, and is secretly pleased to be in your room again, in the light this time, so he can see better. It’s sweet. The pictures on the walls, the plants and the knickknacks and the sticky notes scrawled with messy reminders on every surface and the sweater hanging over the back of a chair—the one you’d been wearing at the cafe all those months ago—it all feels so you. He wonders why the two of you don’t spend more time here. 

He lets himself linger for only a minute before remembering his task, but as he reaches down to unplug your charger, whatever dopey smile he’d been wearing evaporates. The sheets have been stripped from your bed, and he can see why—there’s a striking stain of dried blood, and several surrounding dots, soaked into the mattress. Not much, but enough to make him feel horrendously guilty. He cringes, imagining what it must’ve been like to wake up all alone to nothing but your own blood. Poor girl. Of course he’d noticed some, last night when he was doing his best at cleaning you up, but it had been dark, and he was exhausted, and he hadn’t done enough. 

“Where’d your sheets go, baby?” He asks once back by the front door with his own bag on his shoulder, setting a gentle hand on your lower back and holding out your charger for you. You jump slightly, and he makes circles on your back, wishing there was something he could do to settle you. 

“Oh! They—they got ruined. I threw them out. It’s fine. I have others.”

So you didn’t have enough energy this morning to walk a few feet to your shower, but stripping your bed, getting dressed, and walking down to the trash chute at the end of the hall had been top of your priority list. 

You swallow as he undoes the locks and holds the door open for you, and pretend like you’re not doing surveillance to either side as you stand in the hallway, locking your door again like you can’t get out of here fast enough. 

Spencer casts a sidelong glance at you and wonders if you’re intentionally avoiding eye contact. He tries not to think like a profiler. He tries not to assign meaning to your actions, but he can’t help it. He can’t not notice. 

He can’t not worry. 

And he can’t not wonder what you’re not telling him. 

-

part nine

[in-class-daydreams]

Note: Gojo & the reader are ~40 in this, Sen is 18, and the guy you're seeing (if you don't already know who it is) is aged up accordingly (~30)

Imagine your and ex-husband Gojo's son Sen finding out you're seeing someone.

"You're going on a date?!" Sen asks in disbelief. "With who?"

You smooth out your outfit and check yourself out in the mirror. This look is one of your best, if you do say so yourself.

"Does it matter?" you ask neutrally. Sen is just mature enough to not blatantly freak out at this revelation, but only just. The less he knows, the better.

"Of course, it matters! I need to know who to hunt down if you disappear!" he replies, hands flying up to fist in his hair. "I need to vet this guy!"

Your ex-husband appears in your bedroom doorway. "Who are we vetting?"

Clenching your prospective clothing in your hands, you grumble, "Doesn't anyone knock any more?"

Satoru leans against the door frame like he's someone's booktok boyfriend (he used to be your booktok husband but that's beside the point). He takes in how you've cleaned up and instantly recognizes your date look. Of course, he's only seen it a million times.

"Oh, the kid didn't know you had boyfriend?" he asks.

"Boyfriend?!" Sen cries. Your temple throbs. "Who is he?"

Satoru shrugs. "I dunno, I just know he exists and his one move is sending flowers because he's basic."

"He's not basic and he is not my boyfriend!" you shout, throwing your hands in the air. "We go on dates, yes. We're seeing each other. 'Boyfriend' implies exclusivity, and none of the people I'm seeing are my boyfriend."

Your son and ex-husband stare at you wide-eyed. As Sen gets older, the black roots of his hair have become his last line of defense against looking like a carbon copy of his dad, and having both a young and old(er) Satoru look at you with their stupid big blue eyes is unsettling. Someone hurry up and blink.

"What?" you ask tiredly.

This time it's Satoru that has something irritating to say. "'People?' As in plural?"

"Satoru, don't start."

Sen raises his hand. "I'm with dad on this one. I don't trust anyone with you, not even dad--"

"Thanks, kid."

"--much less strangers."

Part of you understands that your son and ex-husband are the two people in the world that love you the most. Growing up as isolated as you did, your younger self would never have imagined having the both of them in your life. They're just trying to protect you.

The other part of you is on the verge of telling them both to step the fuck off.

You're all saved by the doorbell ringing and before you can even react, both of them are at the door interrogating whoever's on your porch. But you always met up with your dates instead of them picking you up in case of this exact scenario. There was no way he came to the door without your permission.

Sprinting to the door, you find your son, your ex, and a terrified-looking deliveryman holding a bouquet of flowers. You shoo the boys away from him and accept the flowers with thanks and a generous tip for dealing with them.

There's a handwritten note attached. It reads:

You didn't think I'd let you walk out the house without a present, right? Pretty girls need pretty flowers.

You can't hold in a grin. He always found ways to go above and beyond even without an official label.

"Well, at least he's a sorcerer," Sen says. He gestures to the note, "There's a teeny bit of residual CE on there. Not enough for me to recognize, though."

You try not to make your sigh of relief obvious. Sen was still in training and Sukuna said his ability to recognize specific cursed energy needed some work. Getting advice from his dad would help, but your son got his stubborn streak from you.

"Well, good. I don't need you tracking him down." Handing the flowers to Sen, you ask, "Put these in a vase for mama, please?"

Sen, ever the obedient son, runs off to do so immediately. You fondly watch him round the corner into the kitchen, then double back to grab you and place a kiss on your cheek.

"I don't like this, but please be safe, mama! Call me any time, I'll be there," he says, then returns to his task.

Once he's out of sight, you slip your shoes on, holding Satoru by the shoulder to stabilize yourself.

"I'll be back before 11. There's pasta in the fridge and I just washed the sheets in the guest room if you want to stay over," you tell him. Pulling up the back of your shoe, you look up at Satoru to find him stock still looking past you. You can't see his eyes, but you can tell they're fixed on the card you received.

That's when you remember that while your son may not yet be at full potential, veteran sorcerer, strongest in history Gojo Satoru knows damn well who sent you those flowers.

Shit.

Click [here] for more of Sen being mean to his dad | Ask stuff about Sen and the fam [here]

[minus-plus-zer0]

Accidentally Sleeping Together

♡ Genre: Fluff, suggestive ♡ Pairing: Bakugou x Reader (Imagine the bunny on the right is Bakugou, afraid of you waking up O-o)

Bakugou's arms curled tight around you, his sleepy fingers running across your skin rhythmically. It took his similarly sleepy brain a couple of seconds before he realized that this wasn't a beautiful dream.

This was real.

Bakugou leapt off you, his back slamming into his dorm wall. He rubbed the back of his head, swore several expletives at nothing in particular, and then assessed the damage.

You slept together last night. He didn't remember if it was an accident or if you two... did something, but his head was not 100% there yet in the morning.

You were even slower than him to wake, but he could see your figure rustling, and all he could think was "Crap, crap, crap, crap!" It was like he was pinned against the wall. Even if he had an easy exit route, he couldn't exactly walk out on you without proving his innocence first. Or making sure you were okay.

You finally opened your eyes, wiping them. Tentatively, Bakugou spoke.

"Hey, we need to--"

You shrieked and Bakugou cringed from the noise. You sat upright, whipping your head around like it was on a swivel, pure shock on your cute little face. Bakugou was the same amount of scared, but unlike you he was frozen.

"What did we do?!" you cried.

"I don't know!"

"Did we sleep together?!"

"I don't fucking know!"

Bakugou's heart was racing. The fact that you even considered sleeping with him as a possible event within this point of space and time just totally befuddled him. If this whole ordeal didn't screw over his chances with you, then his stupidly hopeful heart could take this as a good sign.

He chose his next words very carefully.

"Did we?" he asked, a little eyebrow cocked and his voice low.

You stared at him, the gears turning in your adorable thoughtless head. He wondered what things you were thinking right now. Your face was normally pure and innocent and cute, but your mind was typically evil and mischievous and always thinking of ways to prank and tease him, so it was hard to say what was happening in there at this exact moment. But being your best friend and all, he had some ideas of what you were probably thinking of.

He shouldn't be focusing on that right now though. Although you didn't look uncomfortable or creeped out, you were the type of person who'd struggle to voice your negative thoughts in a time like this. And as your best friend, Bakugou had to make sure you were okay. It was like, his calling in life.

"You alright?" he asked, snapping you out of your reverie. "I would never take advantage of you. You know that, right?"

"I know," you said, almost immediately. Bakugou was a little proud of your trust and your strong connection together.

"Are you okay?" he asked, again.

"Yeah, I'm okie dokie... Are you?"

You reached out to his face and he realized he had been blushing for some time now.

"I'm sorry," you said. "Did I scare you? Did I sleep here on accident? Can't believe I crashed in your room..."

"Don't apologize to me! Jeez. You're always apologizing to other people. I'm fine. I would never be creeped out by you. In fact, you've almost fucking dozed off here a couple of times in the past. You just don't remember 'cause I carried you back each time." That last part was a bit of a brag.

"Oh?" you cocked your head. "But you didn't tonight. Guess you were too much of a lazy little sleepy head yesterday."

"No more than you!"

That was how you both ended up grinning at each other, faces too close and somewhat red, but happy all the same.

If you weren't uncomfortable, if you were even smiling at him, Bakugou wanted to push things further. Your lips were only several centimeters away, and he wanted to close the distance. But he couldn't risk it unless he knew for sure you'd want him to.

"Had a good sleep, then?" he asked, voice rumbly and still low while his smirk never left his face. "After all, it's my bed."

"I would've, but maybe someone was hogging all the sheets." You mock glared at him, but you didn't back away.

"Well I bought them," he retorted. "Didn't think I'd get a new roommate tonight."

"Maybe I'll just steal your bed and then we won't have a problem."

"You're gonna steal my bed with me in it?"

You lightly slapped his chest and he laughed. You were laughing too, but dammit even if it was funny, he wasn't entirely joking...

Still, he couldn't say he was unhappy.

"Seriously can't fucking believe I woke up to you today," he said, letting some of his true adoration for you spread across his face. "Next time you sleep here, I'm not carrying you back..."

While he still had the chance, he needed to push things further, so you'd understand where he really stood on this situation. Bakugou had enough of all the near-miss kisses in your relationship. He wanted more.

Your hands cupped his face and he stayed put, obediently.

"You won't need to," you whispered.

His fingers grabbed your chin. "I don't ever want to."

And with that, he kissed you, finally.

[cipheress-to-k-pop]

only you (f.h.) (drabble)

Pairing: Five Hargreeves x Wife!Reader

A/N: The last month was pretty busy so I couldn't write much but I had a cute lil thought about this while I was on the bus cuz of all the Five tiktoks on my fyp

"Honestly Five, your head isn't screwed on straight! No one in their right mind would put themselves at this much risk over and over again!" You shouted, voice almost hoarse and mouth dry as you continued to berate him, as you had since you arrived almost twenty minutes ago.

Your husband continued to ignore you, not even bothering to justify his reckless mission anymore and you continued to shout, waving your hands around in your helplessness and frustration.

Five Hargeeves was a great man but the one thing you absolutely detested about him was how he decided he had to do everything on his own. You were his partner, both in the commission and in his life, but he refused to trust you with his own matters.

To a certain degree, you could understand him. He was so anxious about saving his family, so tormented by their deaths hanging over him that he felt that unless he oversaw every single detail, it would all fall apart.

But just because you understood, didn't mean you appreciated your husband putting himself in harm's way when you could've helped him.

"Are you even listening to me?! Five! Your wife is here yelling at you, and you don't even have the decency to look her in the eye?!"

He didn't reply and you were stuck staring at his broad, blazer-clad shoulders.

Then he shifted, taking a deep breath and you heard the shaky breath he let out.

"Five?"

He finally turned, eyes glistening, cheeks wet and lip quivering and you felt so heartbroken at the sight of him that you felt your own tears prick at your eyes. You immediately closed the gap between you, "Oh, sweetheart."

You sat him down in the armchair, perching on his lap and letting him hide his face into your neck, peppering kisses to the crown of his head as he took some time to compose himself.

"I'm just—so tired." His voice cracked and you felt like your heart did as well, pulling away from him just enough so you could kiss his tears away.

"Shh, it's okay." You whispered, gently running your thumbs over the peak of his cheekbones. His hands were gripping your waist with the strength of a vice, nails digging into the flesh of your hips.

"What do you need, Five? Just give me the word and I'll make it happen." You told him, now more determined than anything to shoulder the pain he was feeling, "I would move the heavens and the earth to make you happy, my love. Tell me what you need."

He slumped over in defeat, pressing his forehead to yours, "You. Only you."

You sighed, now running your fingers through his hair. A part of you was disappointed that he was still unable to open up, another was unsurprised.

"Silly request. I'm already all yours."

Taglist under cut

Forever Taglist:

@simonsbluee

@haniscrying

@superheroesaremyjam113263

@writers-whirlwind

TUA Taglist:

@tchatso

@ateliefloresdaprimavera

[punkshort]

Thank you Anon for this request!

A Deeper Purpose

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader one-shot

Summary: Living in Jackson during the apocalypse doesn't do anything to curb your desire to have a child. The problem is, most of the men in town are unavailable... except for one.

Warnings: smut (18+ MDNI), unprotected piv sex, breeding kink (given the request, obv), language, friends to lovers, mentions of anxiety, infertility, pregnancy, angst, pining, alcohol

WC: 3.4K

dividers by @saradika-graphics

When you first asked him, he thought you were crazy.

He stared at you in complete disbelief, his gaze flickering down to the drink in your hand, trying to recall how many you had to propose something so insane. But it was only one.

"Are you fuckin' serious?"

"Mhmm," you said confidently. "I've thought about it for a long time. I want a baby and the men in this town are either taken or have the mental fortitude of a child," you joked nervously. "You're neither of those things. Besides... I trust you."

His eyes softened for a moment and he dropped his gaze to the table. You had known Joel for the better part of five years, and while at first he was brash and gruff, throughout countless patrols and fights against infected where you had to have each other's backs, you had grown rather close. Neither of you ever crossed the line past friendship, and you had never even thought about it until recently when your anxiety was keeping you up late at night, wondering if you would ever find a man and settle down to start a family.

It was a luxury in this life, to be sure. The population of Jackson wasn't very large, but in five years you had come to get a good read on most of its citizens. And you kept coming back to the same conclusion: the man for you was not there.

So after much thought and self-reflection, you worked up enough courage to get a drink with Joel after your route and ask him if he would be willing to give you a baby.

You followed up by telling him you would be solely responsible, that you would do all the work and he could be as involved in the child's life as much as he wanted to be, if at all, while he sat there dumbstruck.

Now he cleared his throat and scratched the back of his neck nervously as he weighed your proposal.

"Can I think 'bout it?" he finally asked.

"Oh, god, of course!" you exclaimed, eyes widening in surprise that he was considering it at all. "However much time you need."

But that was almost a month ago. Each day that passed you became more anxious, more impatient, and it was beginning to sour your mood.

On that particular day you were checking out the park rangers outpost hidden deep within the Wyoming forest. The building was up within the trees, providing the park rangers in the past a bird's eye view of the forest, and now it gives Jackson the same.

Joel was scribbling something in the log book while you strolled aimlessly around the cabin, opening and shutting drawers loudly, already knowing what was in them but just looking for something to do.

"Somethin' on your mind?" he mumbled over his shoulder, his focus still on the book.

"No," you said defensively, but when you angrily began to struggle with a window that refused to open, it became clear you were lying.

"Here, lemme help," he offered, dropping the pencil and walking to your side of the room.

"I'm fine, I don't need your help," you snapped, though you obviously did.

His hands gripped your shoulders and forcibly moved you out of the way before he took hold of the window and gave it a quick jerk, loosening the window in it's frame and finally allowing fresh air in.

He smirked at you and you rolled your eyes before breezing past him.

"This attitude 'bout the window or 'bout what you asked me?" he challenged, stopping you dead in your tracks. Slowly, you spun around, unsure what to say.

"The window," you finally answered, then shifted your weight and shrugged. "Okay, maybe a little of both."

"Mhmm," he said, advancing toward you. "Thought so."

"Well... have you thought about it or are you just trying to come up with a nice way to say no?"

He frowned and propped his hands on his hips. "Now why d'you think it's a no?"

"Because you haven't said a single word about it in a month," you told him like the answer was obvious.

"Well maybe the answer's yes but I don't know how to casually bring up into polite conversation that I'm ready to knock up my goddamn friend!" he argued.

You stared at him, jaw hanging open in disbelief.

"Wait, really?" you whispered.

He nodded and scrubbed his palms over his face. "Yeah, I mean... if you still wanna or... whatever," he grumbled.

The first time was bad, to put it mildly. Your kisses were all teeth, chins and noses bumped together awkwardly. You had hoped once you got down to it that it would have gotten better, but you were wrong. Your rhythms were all off, you hit your head on the end table, and Joel nearly fell off the couch at one point. Needless to say, you didn't come. It was a miracle he did by the end of it.

Afterwards, you both sat there, catching your breaths and wondering if you made a huge mistake.

No, it wasn't a mistake. It was always a means to an end. Ultimately, it didn't really matter if the sex was good or not, the end result would be the same.

Still...

"I'm not usually that bad," you finally said, breaking the thick silence. He groaned and tipped his head back to rest on the couch.

"Me either. I swear, I ain't lyin'. I never usually..." he trailed off, rubbing his chin, deep in thought. "We'll try again. Back home. In a bed. That's the problem. It's gotta be, right?"

"Yeah," you nodded, not fully believing him but at that point, what could it hurt?

The next time was the following day at your home. It was a little better than the first time, but not by much.

"It doesn't matter, Joel," you assured him, tugging your blanket over your chest.

"Matters to me," he said defensively. "I'm too in my head or somethin'. It's still weird, don't you think?"

"Yeah, it's weird," you agreed.

"It's too planned out. Maybe it's gotta be more natural. More... spontaneous."

"Yeah," you agreed.

A couple evenings later one of the other men on patrol was having a bonfire at his home and invited a handful of others, you and Joel included.

Ten or so people sat around a roaring fire, tossing back whiskey and playing cards or swapping war stories. The alcohol made you feel warm and relaxed, your limbs as loose as your tongue when you joked around with the others, joining in on the teasing when a seasoned patrolman admitted to shooting off a crossbow at a leaf that fell just a little too loudly in the woods.

Then you felt a hand on the small of your back and you turned, your eyes glassy and face warm from the booze and the laughs. Joel stood beside you looking just as at ease as you and he gave you a knowing look.

For once, you were on the same page. Neither of you said a word.

You made your excuses, said your goodbyes, and slipped into the night. It was quiet, the rest of the town asleep, so it was easy to hear Joel's voice carry over the wind a few minutes later when he announced his departure, your heart skipping an excited beat in your chest.

He didn't hurry to catch up with you and you were glad. It helped. The anticipation built up on the walk home, and for the first time you felt a warmth bloom between your legs. Your fingers shakily worked your front door when you heard his steps growing closer, the crunching of gravel growing louder and louder until your door swung open and the squeak of old wood under his boots as he walked up your stairs echoed in your ears.

You didn't bother to turn the lights on. His hands were on your waist instantly, kicking the door closed behind him as his mouth crashed against yours with a groan. All you could hear was your shared breath and the rustling of fabric, each of you working to strip the other of their clothes as quickly as possible.

Maybe it was the alcohol, or maybe it was the spontaneity of it. Whatever it was, it was better. Oh, so much better.

Somehow you had made it to your bed and you had never been more grateful to have a small ranch home in your life. When he first pushed inside, you moaned and arched your back off the mattress and his teeth gently grazed your collarbone, sending a wave of goosebumps over your skin. Instantly, you found a rhythm. Your hips rolled to meet his at the perfect time, his hands squeezed and pinched your breasts while his tongue invaded your mouth, only sliding down to cup your ass when he sensed it was becoming too much.

"More," you moaned into his mouth, heels digging into the backs of his thighs. He alternated between snapping and grinding his hips, the mix of sensations quickly bringing you over the edge.

You could feel the excitement in his body when he finally made you come. Like he was reenergized and focused, like he had finally accomplished what he set out to do.

"Come for me, Joel," you whispered in his ear before nipping at his earlobe. You could tell he was close by the way his muscles tensed and the deep groans emanating from his chest.

"Yeah? Want me to come in this tight little pussy?" he growled, the dirty talk sending a jolt of surprise through you. Before, he had been so quiet. This was new.

"Yeah," you whispered back, "want you to fuck a baby in me. I want everyone to see what you did to me."

He groaned so loudly you wondered if it could be heard from outside. His teeth sunk down into your shoulder when he came, muffled words being spoken into your skin as he shot thick ropes of his seed deep into your womb, only slowing when his legs began to shake and he collapsed on top of you with a huff.

"Fuck," he gasped, still trying to catch his breath on top of you. "That was..." he trailed off with a chuckle and you felt him swallow tightly. "That was much better."

"Yeah," you whispered, your eyes sliding shut as your fingers gently raked through his hair. You didn't even realize you were doing it or how intimate it seemed considering your arrangement, but he didn't seem to mind. In fact, he leaned into it a bit as he waited for his heartrate to slow.

Once he collected himself, he propped himself up on his hands and slowly eased out of you with a hiss.

"Can you hand me-"

"Yeah," he said, already knowing you were asking for the small, firm pillow you used last time to prop your hips up, and gave it to you. With a groan, he got to his feet and went to your bathroom while you tucked your knees against your chest, hoping you were getting the angle right.

When he emerged from the bathroom, he handed you a wet washcloth to use when you were done, then began to dress.

He glanced at your face, then your hips propped up in the air.

"You need anythin' else?"

"No, I think this'll do," you joked, and he chuckled before he stood.

"Alright then. See you tomorrow?"

"Yep," you said with a smile, then watched him as he left your bedroom and listened while he slid his boots back on and quietly shut the door behind him, leaving you all alone.

"Fuck, it better work this time," you muttered as you bounced up and down on Joel's lap, your hands digging into his shoulders for support as you slid up and down on his cock. His hands held your waist, guiding you while you rode him on his couch, his eyes transfixed on where you were connected.

"Gotta relax. I told you, it ain't gonna work if you stress yourself out," he replied, eyes still glued to the way his cock emerged from your clutch even wetter than before.

"It's been six months, Joel," you whined, but he shushed you by slanting his mouth over yours. He didn't want to admit it, but he didn't mind when you came to him each month with a look of dejection when your efforts inevitably failed. He felt bad for you, don't get him wrong, but he had grown very fond of the one week every month you found yourself wrapped around his cock.

His thumb found your clit and he felt you tense and your mind went blank. Perfect.

"'S'right," he murmured, watching your face go slack, "just turn off that pretty little head of yours for a minute and lemme take care of you."

You nodded, eyes sliding shut as your hips began to work faster, rolling and grinding down on him until your nails dug into his skin and you cried out his name. Fuck, he loved hearing that. It didn't take much more for him to come, his hands gripping your sides so tight, he was afraid he might leave bruises as he thrusted up into you, giving you every last drop of his release.

"Goddamn," he whispered, head falling back onto the couch as he panted for air.

"Shit," you gasped, voice a little cracked. "Shoulda finished with me laying down. It's gonna leak out when -"

Without a word, he wrapped his arms around you and, still plugging you with his cock, twisted around so you were laying flat on the couch and he was hovering above you.

"Better?"

"Much," you giggled, playing with a stray curl over his ear. You gazed warmly at one another, neither of you saying a word as your pulse slowed and his cock softened.

"Thank you for doing this for me, Joel," you whispered, your eyes drifting all over his face, taking in every little detail.

He nodded and swallowed then forced himself to look away. If he didn't, he was worried you would see too much.

He slid out of you and grabbed a pillow, handing it to you blindly before standing and strolling to his bathroom. After he cleaned up, he leaned over his sink, hands curled around the cracked vanity, and stared at his reflection in the mirror with a pit in his stomach.

How did he let this happen?

He should have known. The morning before you came over, he had a bad feeling. Like something had shifted in the air, something had changed without his permission and it left an empty feeling in his chest.

The overly excited knock on his door as he sipped his coffee almost made him want to pretend he wasn't home, that you weren't about to bounce into his kitchen holding two white sticks with a huge grin plastered across your face. But he didn't, and you did.

Either he really sold his reaction to your news well or you were too elated to notice his heart being ripped from his chest.

It was over. You were pregnant, and you no longer needed him. You would no longer come by every month and keep his bed warm. You would no longer share breakfast with him or talk to him about the books you were reading. He would go back to being utterly and completely alone.

It took a good month or two, but he adjusted back to his normal life. You still did patrol runs with him, which he protested, but when you finally began to show around five months, you agreed to stop and found a different job in town, instead.

That made his chest crack back open. Now he hardly ever saw you. It was bad enough he didn't get to be with you, taste you, fuck you anymore, but now he didn't even get to hear your voice. Occasionally he would see you in the dining hall or in the street and you would always talk to him, but it wasn't the same. Meanwhile, you walked around Jackson with his child growing in your belly, your shirts straining against the swell of your womb, the life he put inside you blooming before everyone's eyes. And all he wanted to do was claim you, right there in the center of town for everyone to see. For everyone to look in awe at what the two of you had created together.

One evening he was sitting alone in front of his fire, sipping whiskey and staring blankly into the flames. He had a decent life, considering the circumstances. So why couldn't he just be happy?

Then a rap came at his door. Urgent and loud. He placed his tumbler down and quickly went to open it, surprised to find you waiting on the other side.

"Hey," you said breathlessly, one hand over your round stomach. His eyes dropped down to take you in before he met your gaze again.

"Are you alright?"

"Yeah," you replied with a look on your face that told him you didn't realize he would obviously panic about your wellbeing at this point in your pregnancy. "Sorry, I just - can I come in?"

"Yeah, 'course," he said, stepping aside to open the door wider. You toed off your boots and shrugged off your jacket, allowing him to take it from you and hang it up before you wandered into his living room. Your eyes fell on his abandoned glass and you smiled.

"I miss drinking," you said longingly. He grinned and, leaving the whiskey where it was so as not to tempt you, sat on the couch.

"What're you doin' here so late? Is the baby okay?"

"Yeah," you nodded, tearing your eyes away from the glass and sitting down near him on the sofa. "Baby's good. I just was thinking about you and I wanted to see you."

He perked up at that, he couldn't help himself. "Oh, yeah?"

You grinned and bit your lip shyly before looking away. "I miss you, I guess."

A smile spread wide across his face. "Aw, how sweet."

You swatted an arm out to smack him on the shoulder and he laughed, his heart finally feeling like it was mending a bit.

"Jerk," you muttered, and he laughed again.

"I missed you, too," he finally admitted, his cheeks rosy from the fire and the whiskey as he gazed at you, the reflection from the flames making your skin glow. Maybe it was that pregnancy glow that everyone used to talk about. Or maybe you always glowed and he just never allowed himself to notice until it was too late.

He watched your throat work, swallowing dryly while your fingers fidgeted in your lap and he realized you were nervous.

"What if I told you I missed you as more than just friends?" you whispered, your eyes pinned to the floor, unwilling or unable to meet his gaze.

His breath caught in his throat. Surely, he must have misheard you. But then you finally turned to look at him, tears welling in your eyes, and his heart lurched in his chest.

"What if I told you I'm in love with you?" he bravely whispered back.

Your eyebrows pinched together and your face crumpled before you reached forward, curling your arms around his neck and pulling him close, your lips pressing together earnestly before opening your mouth and letting his tongue lick behind your teeth.

He wasn't sure how you both made it upstairs and into his bed. He couldn't remember peeling your clothes off, one by one, revealing more and more of your changing body to him for the first time. But he did remember seeing your bare, swollen belly underneath him while his hand slowly slid across your skin in wonder. And then he felt it. A little flutter. A little jolt. And he looked up at you in surprise.

"She's kicking," you explained, and his eyes fell back to your stomach.

"She?"

You nodded, placing your hand over his lovingly. "I think it's a girl."

He smiled as tears began to cloud his vision, then bent forward to press a kiss against your stomach, letting his lips linger so hopefully his unborn daughter could feel him there and feel the love he had for her.

You had to pull him away by his shoulders, the both of you laughing softly, unable to believe how much things had changed in just a year.

Because not only were you a couple months away from finally being a mother, but you also realized you were very, very wrong all those months ago.

The man for you was, in fact, right there all along.

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[randomshyperson]

Wanda holding hands 13 bc Ur smut is the best :D

Wanda Maximoff x Reader

prompt: linking hands together during sex | warnings: (+18) smut.

“Are you sure this is safe?”

Wanda lets out a giggle at your nervousness, sitting on your thighs, her hands resting on your stomach, she stares at you, her head slightly tilted.

"Are you questioning my magical abilities?" she counters your question with another one, receiving an offended snort in return.

"Of course not!" You mutter. You were looking at her before, but ended up looking down, where the toy conjured by the witch attached to your waist vibrates softly as if it were as desperate to feel her as you were half an hour ago when you both stumbled inside the rented room at the Harkness Mansion, where Wanda has been learning all sorts of magic for the past few months. Clearly, she has learned other interesting things, outside of the mandatory curriculum.

Your hands caress her thighs, but Wanda still notices the tension in your shoulders. She softens her gaze in your direction.

"It feels good, doesn't it? No need to worry." She rations, pleased to see you bite your lip as she tentatively caresses the plastic member. When you gasp at the stimulation, she feels a twinge of pride at her successful spell, too. "You can trust me."

"I trust you, darling." You assure her, a little out of breath and sweaty. It's round two already, and Wanda just proved her point by groping your new magical member, a squeeze that almost makes you lose your train of thought. "It's me I don't trust. What are we going to do about my strength? Are you sure-"

"That's exactly why I'm on top, silly." She cuts you off, adjusting herself on your lap in a way that brings her heat right where you want her. Your grip on her thighs tightens just enough to bruise. It's her time to bite her lip. With a deep breath, she stares at your eyes. "You just need to relax, and let me take charge. I bet you'll love it."

It's your turn to look at her adoringly. "Of course I will, it's you." You comment romantically, earning a shy smile from her. But then, there's a shift in her gaze. Wanda is still looking in your eyes as she adjusts the toy into her own entrance, teasing gently before slowly sinking down. She's able to feel every inch, filling her up to the bottom.

Your hands leave her thighs to grip the sheets, and she smiles breathlessly at your visible difficulty in keeping still, your jaw tensing as your stomach muscles tighten.

"See? I told you I'd like it." She teases, still getting used to the sensation of being full. She's pleased to know she got the size right, even though she can't help but imagine trying a bigger one in the future. "I'm going to start moving now, okay baby?"

But her body was betraying her. She was still quite sensitive, coming twice before for your fingers and tongue, she didn't imagine she'd be so affected so quickly when she switched to the toy. But the sensation was truly overwhelming. It was really different to feel you filling her like that, and in the attempt to grind against your lap, her body protested, as ready for climax as she had been when she started.

You came to her rescue immediately. Sitting, one of your hands brushed her hair away from her face, to get a better look at her before kissing her. Your other hand went down, wrapping around her waist and taking control of her movements. Wanda rewarded you with an affected moan against your lips, her thighs trembling on either side of your body as you forced her hips to move against yours. She didn't want to come so fast, but she couldn't help it. Being held like this, she felt so safe and loved that the knot in her lower belly exploded almost at the same moment you whispered "I got you, lovely". 

In the ecstasy of her own climax, she didn't notice your determination to hold back, unable to surrender without worries. It was only when she calmed down, breathless and still trying to get back into orbit, that she realized. Hugging you by the neck, she kissed your skin before speaking again. "I told you to trust me."

You sigh, caressing her back with open palms. "I do, but I don't want to hurt you." You murmur. Despite being bigger than Wanda, you suddenly seem very small. "Every muscle is amplified by the serum, Wands, you know that. I'm afraid I might-"

She cuts you off with a determined kiss. Wet and rough, it makes you gasp and grab her cheeks, pulling away for air. Wanda arches her back, teasing and baiting you, the image of her naked figure making you gasp. You stare at where your bodies connect, but don't move.

She grinds, and you groan. "Jesus, Wanda."

"You won't hurt me, I promise." She assures you, equally affected, having trouble keeping her eyes on you, her brow furrowed due to the roughness of her own hips' movements. Doing this, you kept hitting a sensitive spot inside her, and it was a hard feeling to ignore in order to speak. "It's part of the magic. Can you, for all that is holy, trust what I'm saying?"

You don't contradict, mainly because you're unable to hold back when Wanda is riding you so eagerly. You tense up then, panicking once you feel your climax reaching you, but to no avail, it's your attempt at holding it. An animalistic moan rips its way through your throat, and you grab Wanda's waist, holding her in place as you empty yourself inside her. She whines affectly, grabbing your shoulders as she feels the hot shot inside her. 

For a second, not only the toy soften but your body too, going heavy on her. She holds both of you to the bed with her thighs around your waist, a hand caressing your hair as she tries to ignore the way your cock is still pulsing and leaking inside her.

“Need a break, baby?” She asks softly but you groan deeply, hands suddenly firming around her to flip both of you in bed. She gasps when her back hits the mattress, but her surprise is turned into something else when you pound into her with strength. “Fuck.”

Her hands fell into the bed with the shifting in the position, and Wanda's eyes widened a little when you reached for them, holding them together above her head.

This was new and Wanda was definitely not complaining.

“We should have tried this ages ago.” You say, your voice husky due to the efforts and the previous orgasms. Wanda thinks you look beautiful like this, out of breath while you fuck her. “I could be gentle but… something tells me you don't want me to.”

Your free hand moves down to flick her swollen clit between your fingers and Wanda cries out, her back arching on the bed. You smirk, adjusting just so you could move the toy that slipped out back inside her.

There's a quick teasing from your part, pushing just the tip of the toy into her overstimulated dripping pussy, but sooner than later, you push all the way inside. Cursing under your breath as Wanda fights against the hold on her hands. She wants to hold you so badly that it physically consumes her and you end up pitying her pleasing eyes and needy moans. 

But you don't free her hands, instead, you entrelaces your fingers together in a deep grip that anchors her when your movements resume.

The pounding is rough, it cracks the bed and takes Wanda to a state of colorful eyes and magic emanation. The only noises in the room are the shared moaning and the obscene sounds of your cock pushing into her aching heat, the moisture of your last climax leaking into the bed. When she comes, all the lights in the bedroom flash. You follow her this time, groaning into her neck as you come. 

For a second, none of you are able to say anything, all but breathless gasps leaving your lips. Then, there's a shared giggle, and your fingers, still interlaced, squeeze before letting go, only for you to remove the sweaty hair away from her face.

“Hey, you.” She smiles at your words, tired eyes threatening to close as she looks at you. “Enjoying yourself aren't you?”

“Don't tease me, when you're just whining three seconds ago.” She retorts, getting a chuckle from you. Wanda let her hands cross behind your neck. “Wanna join me in the shower?”

“Honey, if I ever say no to that, you can bet I lost my mind for good.” You joke, muffling her and giggling with your mouth.