#reminding her exactly why she hates it here. exactly why she left. exactly why it's been decades since she visited

[pillow-letters]

DIE IN YOUR ARMS - Suguru Geto

pairings: geto suguru x reader; gojo satoru x reader; manami x geto suguru; fem reader

warnings: mdni, 18+, angst, so so much angst, hurt/comfort, you just have to wait for the comfort to come, violence, mentions of blood, smut, p in v, mentions of depression, death, murder, toxic relationships, so much yearning, fem reader, uses of she/her pronouns

wc: 1.9k (a short one just to start)

author's note: hi! first fic kinda nervous. Please be aware that english is not my first language, so bear with me! There may be some grammatical errors.

We're starting from two years after Suguru defected, and boy we're in for a tough ride... enjoy and feel free to give any review, just be respectful! The warnings will be updated as we go on with the story, they are not for this chap only!

Also, you see that I've put also Gojo in the pairings, because he will be here in a few chaps...just wait for it!

Waking up next to her, was starting to feel right.

Starting to feel like maybe, the choices that led him to this point, were not that unethical, were not that wrong.

Looking at her sleeping form, as she scoots closer in her sleep, humming as she leans her head on his chest.

This feels right, no?

It’s been exactly two years.

Well, maybe not exactly..but around that number.

Who keeps counting the days after he left that shitty society? That hurting scheme?

Who cares how much time has passed?

Who cares about the people he left behind, not bothering to even look for them?

They knew where he was.

Maybe not all of them, but surely one of them knew.

Of course he knew, how could he not?

How could the strongest not know where Suguru was hiding?

Did you knew too?

Suguru moves cautiously, trying to not wake her up as he heads towards the en suite bathroom, closing the door slowly behind him. 

This feels right.

Maybe, this could be the whole point. Finding someone who shares his beliefs, who wouldn’t dare to raise her voice at him, nor disagree. She was warm. Gentle. Sweet, even. She had herr moments, but never left. She was loyal, to him, to his cause.

So if Manami was all of this, all the great things Suguru could look for in a partner, why were you still engraved on his mind? On his heart?

No...you’re not. It’s been 2 years. He’s not thinking about you. Especially not today. On your 26th birthday. Not that he remembers, right? Not that his heart aches at the thought that he won’t be the one waking you up with a special breakfast in bed. Or that he won’t be spending the day with you, making you feel a little more special for the occasion.

So he goes on with his day. Preparing himself for the first few meetings in the morning.

Just one actually, he hates this type of days. Slow days, with barley anything to do, leaving time to his mind to wander to the fucking ‘what if’s’.

He checks his phone, seeing the little reminder on his agenda.

An old lady, who asked to meet him because her daughter is ‘haunted’. He hopes it’s something worthy,at least a grade 2 curse.

He sighs, putting up half of his hair, looking in the mirror.

Was this him? Waking up, dressing in these robes, ready to lie to people?

Lie for curses, lie for money.

Was he really just…this?

Before he could get too much in his head, Manami gently knocks on the bathroom, her sweet voice coming through the door.

“Master Geto?”

God, he hates that. Master of what, lies? Curses?

Can’t he be just fucking Suguru, for once?

“Yes, Manami?” he sounds so condescending. Did he always sound like that?

“I’ll go get your breakfast ready and prepare the meeting room now. I just wanted… to thank you. For the night. Not that.. I mean-”

He sighs. Still fixing his appearance looking at the mirror.

“Do what you have to. I’ll see you throughout the day” so fucking condescending.

He turns to open the door, finding her there, fidgeting with the hem of a shirt too big for her. Probably his shirt. Surely his shirt.

He tilts his head, smiling in the softest way possible, forcing it.

“And Manami please, don’t.. thank me. I’ll see you later, okay?” he moves, cupping her face, swiping his thumb slowly.

This feels right.

Her eyes lighten up at his touch, leaning on it and nodding quickly. She moves, fast, to leave a soft peck on his cheek before walking out of the master bedroom of the big estate.

Suguru turns to the bathroom, fixing himself one last time before heading out as well.

Things have been great. 

That should be the center of his thoughts, things are going great. 

Nanako and Mimiko are growing up so well, so well behaved, educated.

The rest of the cult members are obeying, the money keeps coming in.

So who cares that today is your birthday? Who cares if you woke up smiling or not?

He remembers how you hate this day. You hate the attention, the expectations of having a party, the idea of people you barely talk to coming to you to wish you a ‘happy birthday’ when they probably don’t even know how old you are.

He remembers your 24th, the last you two spent together.

Remember how beautiful you looked when you redden up, embarrassed, for the tulips he bought for you. How gorgeous you looked looking around Okinawa, for the day trip he organized for you. How you thanked him, through whispers, at the end of the day, because that was the first birthday you actually enjoyed. He remembers it all too well.

He shakes his head, as if that motion is going to get you out of his mind, sighing yet again.

He finds it in him to take a deep breath, walking towards the small room where some ‘monkeys’ were probably waiting for him, finding Manami waiting for him outside with a small pack of papers in her hands.

She’s really pretty. Her hair perfectly done, a small hint of makeup on her face, a pink dress making her curves look just right. 

He really wishes he could love her. Wouldn’t that be so much easier? Less painful?

He reaches her, placing a hand on her waist, smiling

“All ready?”

She looks up, smiling and nodding, opening the door for him.

The short meeting goes as planned, getting a grade 3 curse out of it. As he walks out he finds her waiting for him, checking the same paper over and over again; as soon as she notices him, she smiles

“Everything went okay?”

He hums, looking ahead of him

“Smoothly. Nothing worth mentioning. Is everything ready for tomorrow’s attack?”

“Yeah. Miguel is coming with us, we believe that is not necessary to bring too many people, it would put too much attention on us. Also, i have some other new info about it”

He nods, guiding her to his private office, one hand placed on her lower back.

Once they’ve settled in his office, he smiles, playing with her hair as he makes her sit on his lap.

“Tell me about this new info, pretty”

She giggles a bit, leaning more comfortably on him.

“There’s going to be some sorcerers there. From Tokyo Jujutsu Tech. Rumors has it it’s someone classified as a, and i quote, ‘special grade’”

That earns his full attention. He knows how the jujutsu society classifies sorcerers, and surely knows that there are a total of 3 special grade sorcerers in this world, him being one of them. Is Satoru gonna be there? Tsukumo? Is there someone new?

“Do you have a name?”

She shakes her head, sighing.

“I know it’s a girl”

Oh, so Yuki Tsukumo. She won’t fight him, he's pretty sure about that. And if it really has to come to that, he can get out alive of it.

“Nothing we should worry about, trust me”

Manami nods, focused on playing with his fingers, incredibly gentle with it.

The silence stretches, with them just being there, one on another, feeling the moment.

He’s observing her. Assessing her. How her hair falls down her shoulder. How she breathes, seemingly so relaxed in his arms.

If someone asked him how this started, he probably would lie.

He wasn’t proud of any of it frankly, but obviously still remembers it.

When she bluntly told him how she agreed with all of his beliefs, not caring about what other people might say.

Suguru was surely in a dark place when he met her, but she persisted. Helping him with the girls, with making something out of his beliefs. Making a whole fucking cult and never once trying to take credit for it.

So was it really that shocking, when she ended up in his bed? When he ended up calling her, on the sleepless nights, needing some type of release out of all these bad thoughts?

She never asked for more, but she wasn’t that subtle about how she wanted exclusivity.

He notices how whenever a new follower, more precisely a pretty girl, would come around, she started being territorial. Possessive even.

He didn’t care. Never cared to show her more, or less. He just let her think whatever she wanted about their relationship was, about what they actually are.

But as time went by, things started to become more..domestic.

The first time he found her making breakfast with Mimiko and Nanako, he was furious.

Of course he didn’t make a scene in front of them, but he had a pretty strong conversation with her afterwards, saying all types of stuff which was honestly just cruel. Hurtful words to remind her of her place in his life, how she was a warm body and a steady shoulder to rely on in business. Yeah, he fucking called the ‘cult’ business.

The weird part? She still persisted. 

He often thought that the girl had a very very low respect for herself or she was hopelessly in love with him. It’s easier to believe the first one.

And maybe, it was about time to pay her back. For her faith in him. For her patience. 

She was a beautiful girl, with a pretty personality and a capable sorcerer. She was great with his girls, even if they never seemed to actually trust her fully. They were still kids, they would come to like her, love her even, call her ‘mom’ one day.

So maybe,exactly today, was the right day to try this. To just.. see if maybe she could take your place, in his heart.

“If i asked you on a date tonight, what would you say?” Suguru’s voice cut through the silence, his hands playing with hers.

He looks at her, how she turns to look at him, trying (and failing) to stop the smile creeping up her face.

“A date?”

“Yeah. I was thinking about dinner actually. I know a place.”

“Do we need to discuss something? About tomorrow? Or did something happen?”

He chuckles,shaking his head lightly.

“I just..want to get to know you. Better. And with clothes on. At least for a part of the night.. if you let me”

This time, she didn't bother to hide the smile on her lips as she nodded, wrapping her arms around his neck.

“I’ll be ready at 8. Wait for you at the entrance?”

He nods, letting her get up from his lap and just smiling at her while she walks out of his office.

This feels right.

He sighs then, undoing the bun he made in the morning,letting his hair fall down his shoulders.

This doesn't feel right, it doesn't feel like anything.

It feels forced, as if someone is fucking holding a gun to his head. 

She’s not you. God, she could never come close.

Were you having a great birthday? Do you remember your last birthday together? Were you happy? Would you hate him if he called? Do you hate him? Do you even think about him?

He stands up, abruptly, storming out of his own office.

He made a choice that day. He chose this. This life. This place. This woman.

He made a choice the day he looked in his mom’s eyes, trying to make her stop breathing as fast as possible. He made a choice, when even upon hearing his dad’s pleading and begging, he didn’t stop. He made a fucking choice, and he has to live with it.

He walks, actually runs, to the master bedroom, more precisely to his bathroom, not bothering to close the door behind him as he kneels to the toilet, throwing up.

Jesus, what happened to him?

[mariasont]

hi pookie! <3

i loved loved loved the recent lipgloss fic! could you write smth about perfume? like bimbo! reader smells sweet asf and all of a sudden reid (or hotch) comes into the office smelling suspiciously sweet

tytyty!! <333

Suspiciously Sweet - S.R

a/n: hiiiiiii pookie!!!!!!! thank u so much for requesting i loved this lololol

masterlist

pairings: spencer reid x bimbo!receptionist!reader

warnings: fluffiest fluff, established relationship, spencer's relationship almost being exposed, hotch saving his ass, hotch hinting to having a secret girlfriend (aka my girl bimbo!assistant)

wc: 1.3k

You had a very distinct scent. This wasn't a bad thing, no, far from it. It was sweet and intoxicating, it reminded him of ripe peaches in the height of summer and cherries soaked in syrup, with a hint of something citrusy that reminded him of lazy afternoons in the sun. Was that too poetic? Spencer wasn't sure.

He noticed it everywhere. In the office, where it announced your arrival before you said a word. He noticed it at home. His pillows, his sheets, even the collar of the sweater you'd borrowed once — it was all steeped in the same honeyed scent that lingered after you left his bed, as if you were something he couldn't wash away — not that he wanted to.

This was why Spencer had started sleeping in on weekends when you stayed over. It wasn't laziness, not exactly, but how could he resist staying wrapped up in the thing that reminded him most of you?

Especially on those mornings when you were still half-asleep and clingy, burrowing into him with sleepy little hums, like you were trying to fuse yourselves together, and somehow, it worked. Your scent didn't just stick to his things, it stuck to him, sinking into his skin and leaving him a little dazed by the time you finally rolled out of bed.

Sure, he could rationalize it with some scientific explanation about heat transfer, molecules, or something equally clinical. But science (and he hated to admit this) didn’t account for how it made him feel.

Unfortunately, those feelings, didn't do him any good when one of those slow mornings he was becoming so fond of turned into an emergency call from Hotch about a case.

Now, he found himself here, hunched over the impossibly small sink in the jet's cramped bathroom, scrubbing his hands raw for what felt like fortieth time today. The scent wouldn't budge. It was as though it had soaked into his skin. He knew it was his fault, he couldn't seem to stop his hands from roaming across every inch of your body morning.

It wasn't that he minded smelling like you, but focusing on case details and running probability algorithms became infinitely harder when every breath reminded him of how tightly you had wrapped yourself around him just hours before.

He let out a bated breath, shutting off the sink before pushing his way into the main cabin of the jet. He found his way to his favorite seat, third back on the left side, which happened to be located far enough from the engines to minimize auditory distractions.

Morgan looked up, sniffing once as Spencer slid by. "Man, I don't know what it is, but something smells good in here."

Spencer tensed, his stomach dropping. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up, and he fought the urge to whip around. Surely it wasn't that strong. It couldn't be.

Rossi glanced up from his crossword, brows furrowing.

“Huh. I was thinking the same thing. It’s faint, but it’s nice. Like fruit or… maybe something floral?” Rossi’s nose wrinkled as he added, “Certainly an improvement over Morgan’s cologne.”

Spencer ducked his head so fast it could've looked like a nod, his cheeks burning as he avoided everyone's gaze.

JJ came out of the coffee area moments later, glancing at the case file in her hand as she passed him. She stopped abruptly, sniffed the air, then frowned.

"Wow, Spence, you smell really good. Did you finally cave and buy cologne?"

Spencer blinked up at her, every ounce of blood in his body rushing to his face.

"Uh, no," he said flatly, trying to mask the embarrassment. "I suppose I woke up smelling like this."

Technically not a lie.

He was acutely aware of everyone's eyes on him. Emily tilted her head, brow furrowing before a wide grin spread across her face. Not a good sign, he concluded.

"Wait a second," she said, pointing at Spencer. "That smells exactly like outside of Cruz's office. I pass it all the time."

Spencer cleared his throat, his fingers tightening around the armrests as his mind scrambled for an explanation, any explanation, to divert their growing attention. He could practically feel the walls closing in on him. He was doomed. This was it.

Spencer’s pulse was thundering in his ears, his face still flushed, when Hotch finally set down his pen.

For a second, Spencer braced himself for the worst, the horrifying moment when even Hotch would add to his scrutiny.

"That smell? It's the same hand sanitizer Cruz keeps in his office. He offered it to me after a meeting, probably the same stuff Spencer borrowed when he spilled his coffee this morning."

Spencer looked to Hotch, mouth opening and closing before nodding as if in agreement. "Yeah, that's... probably it."

The rest of the ride passed, to Spencer’s immense relief, without further incident. Morgan gave him a few odd looks now and then, but Spencer was too preoccupied, his thoughts spinning as he tried to figure out why Hotch had saved his ass.

When the last of the team finally stepped off the plane, Spencer hung back, letting the others pass. Hotch did too, falling in step beside him. His pace was slower than usual, his gaze fixed forward, but when he spoke, his voice was loud enough for Spencer to hear.

"Word of advice, Reid, next time, carry mints and a travel sized bottle of something unscented. You'd be surprised how much that helps."

Spencer’s head whipped around, his face going a deep shade of red. Hotch, meanwhile, kept walking, his expression completely neutral, as though he hadn’t said anything at all.

—

"He said what?"

You were laughing uncontrollably, the kind of laugh that made your shoulders shake and left you gasping for air, your hands grabbing him for balance. Rollers filled your hair, a ritual you'd patiently explained to him before, and loose wisps curled around your face.

And your smile, well, he was perfectly certain it was the prettiest he'd ever seen you.

"Yup," Spencer confirmed, a small smirk tugging at his lips.

You froze mid-giggle, eyes narrowing.

"Wait, wait, wait, how does he know that? Is Hotch speaking from experience or something?" You blinked, then gasped dramatically. "Oh my gosh, what if Hotch has, like, a secret girlfriend? What if it's someone at the BAU? What if it's Garcia?"

"It's not Garcia, and it's definitely not a secret." Spencer raised an eyebrow, glancing at you as if the answer was obvious. "Hotch has been dating his assistant for years. He thinks it's some big secret, but it's... not. He picks her up lunch at least twice a week, and his closed-door meetings with her? Not as inconspicuous as he thinks."

You gasped, practically bouncing in place as you grabbed Spencer's sleeve. "Shut up! I didn't know that! I love her clothes. Do you think she'd tell me where she shops? That red skirt she wore the other day was everything."

“You don’t need any more skirts,” Spencer said, his fingers finding the sensitive spot between your hip and ribs, pinching just enough to make you squirm on the countertop. “If your closet gets any fuller, you’re going to have to rent out a second apartment just for storage.”

You giggled, tightening your legs around him and clinging to him like a koala, your arms looped snugly around his neck.

"That's why I have your apartment," you said, sticking out your tongue. "Plenty of space for my skirts, and you get to see me model them. Win-win."

"When you put in like that, it's kind of hard to say no."

He leaned in as he spoke, his lips brushing against yours softly at first, teasing and testing, like a flicker of fire before it catches. You giggled into the kiss, your laughter blending into his smile. The kiss deepened, honey-slow and sweet, golden warmth spreading through his chest as you pressed closer, closing every last bit of distance between you.

When you pulled back, his lips still tingling, you grinned. "Wow, you really do smell like me."

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[lacethighs]

infuriatingly infuriating

neteyam sully x metkayina! reader

synopsis the olo’eyktan’s oldest daughter finds herself falling for toruk makto’s infuriatingly charming eldest son.

warnings no use of y/n.

word count 4.4k

it has been a few months since the sully family arrived in awa’atlu, seeking uturu. they learned the ways of your people quickly, perhaps faster than you expected.

when your father tasked you and your siblings with helping them adjust, you knew it would be no small effort.

your younger brother had been less than thrilled at first, grumbling about having to teach the forest people how to survive in the water. but in time, he grew accustomed to it.

tsireya, of course, had no complaints. if anything, she was too eager to help, though it was obvious why. she had taken quite the liking to the younger sully brother.

as for you? you didn’t mind them much. you treated them with respect and did your duty, teaching them as best you could.

but neteyam, the eldest sully, was the biggest pain in your tail.

at first, he had been quiet, reserved. almost too respectful. he treated you as if you were someone of great authority, so much so that you had to remind him once that you were not his superior.

oh, great mother, how you regret that now.

it was as if those words alone had shattered whatever restraint he had. now, neteyam refused to leave you alone. he took every opportunity to tease you, to pester you about anything and everything.

he was worse than your brothers. far worse.

for someone who carried himself as a mighty warrior, he certainly didn’t act like one. if he wasn’t showing off, casually proving that he could master every skill thrown his way. he was using that demon language of his, throwing strange words at you just to see your reaction.

and eywa, did he love your reactions.

those large, crystal-blue eyes of yours would widen in pure, utter confusion every time he spoke in that strange demon language. and that was exactly what he wanted.

he would grin, sharp and full of mischief, watching the way your brows furrowed, the way your lips parted slightly as if trying to make sense of the foreign words. then, just when you thought he might take pity on you and explain himself, he would simply shake his head.

“what?” you’d snap, frustrated beyond belief. “what does that mean?”

but neteyam would only tilt his head, feigning innocence. “nga kea nari si, yawntu?”

your tail flicked sharply behind you. “neteyam.”

nothing. just that insufferable smirk.

you hated it. hated how he refused to explain himself, as if he hadn’t just spoken an entirely different language to you. as if he hadn’t just left you standing there, trying to piece together something you had no hope of understanding.

infuriating.

and yet, every time, you found yourself waiting for the next time he’d do it again.

it was infuriating.

whenever the two of you were together, whether by chance or because your father had paired you up for some task, he would do the work, yes. but not without making your life miserable in the process.

today was no different.

your mother had asked you to fetch more shells for her, a simple enough task. yet, of course, neteyam had seen you leaving and, for reasons only eywa knew, decided to follow.

“you do not need help collecting shells,” he had said, trailing behind you like an overgrown ilu.

“and yet here you are,” you muttered, sifting through the sand near the shore, determined to ignore him.

neteyam crouched beside you, hands resting on his knees as he watched you work. he was silent for a moment—too silent. that was never a good sign.

“you know,” he finally mused, “where i’m from, we don’t waste time collecting pretty things from the sand.”

you exhaled sharply through your nose, refusing to rise to the bait. “we do not waste time,” you corrected. “the shells are used for many things.”

“oh, of course,” he said easily. “necklaces. bracelets. decorations.” your ears flicked in annoyance. “and medicine, neteyam. and tools. and trade.”

he hummed as if considering your words, then leaned forward, plucking a shell from the pile you had already gathered. “this one,” he said, holding it up, “definitely just for decoration.”

you snatched it from his grasp, shooting him a glare. “why are you here?”

he grinned. “what, and miss a chance to spend time with my favorite metkayina?”

you scoffed, turning back to your task. “go bother someone else.”

“i would,” he admitted, stretching out lazily beside you, “but no one else makes such great faces when i talk.”

your hands froze for a moment before tightening into fists. infuriating. absolutely infuriating.

rolling your eyes, you ignored him, focusing instead on plucking shells from the sand. and then he did it again.

that strange, foreign tongue slipping past his lips; smooth, effortless, knowing damn well you wouldn’t understand.

“these shells are just as beautiful as you,” he said, voice teasing yet undeniably soft.

you froze, fingers curling around the shell in your hand as you turned to him, eyes narrowing.

“what did you just say?”

neteyam only smiled. that smug, infuriating smile. “nothing.”

your tail flicked sharply behind you. “no,” you pressed, shifting to face him fully. “you said something. say it again.”

he tilted his head, as if considering it. then, with a maddening slowness, he shrugged. “i don’t think so.”

you hated this game. hated that he knew how much it drove you mad.

still, you tried to piece it together, running the words over in your mind, searching for meaning. but you had no hope of understanding. it was a language that didn’t belong to you; a secret only he held.

your lips pressed into a thin line. “you could be insulting me for all i know.”

neteyam chuckled, leaning back on his hands, his golden eyes warm with amusement. “you think so little of me, sevin?”

you huffed, turning back to your task, determined not to let him win. “one of these days, i will find out what you are saying,” you muttered.

he grinned. “i look forward to it.”

and you were determined.

later, when your mother and father weren’t demanding anything from you, you set out to find the younger sully brother.

lo’ak was more open than neteyam, more willing. he didn’t hold himself with the same strict discipline as his older brother, and you knew he was always eager to prove himself. perfect.

you found him near the village edge, sharpening his knife, tail lazily flicking behind him. he looked up as you approached, ears twitching with curiosity.

“what do you want?” he asked, though there was no real bite to his words.

you crouched beside him, tilting your head. “i want to learn your demon language.”

lo’ak blinked. “you mean english?”

you scowled. “demon language,” you repeated. “the one you and your brother use.”

lo’ak snorted. “right. and why would i teach you?”

you smirked. “because you like my sister.”

lo’ak stiffened. “i—what? no, i—”

you raised a non-existent brow, waiting.

he groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “that’s so unfair.”

you only shrugged. “i do not make the rules.”

lo’ak huffed but gave in easily enough. “fine,” he muttered. “what do you want to know?”

you leaned forward, eager. “start with this, what does neteyam keep saying to me?”

lo’ak knew exactly what was going on.

he had seen the way neteyam looked at you, watched how his usually disciplined, ever-perfect brother turned into a teasing, insufferable menace whenever you were around. neteyam was completely, hopelessly infatuated with you.

and now, here you were, looking at him for answers.

lo’ak smirked to himself. oh, this is too good.

he had two choices: he could lie, protect his brother’s pride, and let this little game of theirs continue.

or

he could tell you the truth and sit back to watch the chaos unfold.

really, there was only one correct option.

feigning nonchalance, he leaned back on his hands, pretending to think. “well,” he started slowly, drawing it out just to watch you grow impatient. “neteyam’s been saying some… interesting things.”

your eyes narrowed. “like what?”

lo’ak bit back a grin. oh, this was going to be fun. so fun for him.

because as he went on, explaining the things he had heard neteyam say to you in english, you listened intently, completely unaware of the storm brewing behind you.

what you didn’t see was neteyam moving through the village, searching for you. he had grown used to your presence, enjoyed bothering you whenever he could, so when he hadn’t seen you for a while, he decided to track you down.

and then he spotted you, with lo’ak.

the way his brother was smirking, looking like a complete menace, was a dead giveaway. neteyam didn’t even need to hear the conversation to know exactly what was happening.

his stomach dropped.

lo’ak was telling you.

his body tensed, tail flicking in irritation. oh, that little skxawng.

you still didn’t notice him. too focused on lo’ak, your arms crossed, head tilting as you listened. and lo’ak? oh, he was relishing this.

neteyam clenched his jaw. he had two options: stop this right now before you learned too much, or let it happen and deal with the consequences.

yeah, like hell he was choosing the second one.

so, before lo’ak could dig his grave any deeper, neteyam stormed over.

by the time neteyam stormed over, the damage had already been done. lo’ak had fully dug his grave, and he was lying in it with a big, shit-eating grin.

you turned at the sound of heavy footsteps, just in time to see neteyam approaching, his expression unreadable. his jaw was tight, ears pinned back, golden eyes locked onto his younger brother with something between fury and panic.

lo’ak just sat there, far too pleased with himself. “oh, hey, brother,” he said, voice dripping with fake innocence. “we were just talking about you.”

your gaze flickered between them, realization dawning. neteyam knew. he knew exactly what had just happened.

and judging by the way his tail lashed behind him, he was not happy about it.

you turned back to lo’ak. “so,” you said, tilting your head, “you’re telling me neteyam has been calling me beautiful this whole time?”

neteyam inhaled sharply. “lo’ak—”

“oh, yeah,” lo’ak cut in, completely ignoring him. “that and, you know, pretty much everything else a man says when he’s in love with someone.”

silence.

your lips parted slightly, but no words came. neteyam looked like he was about to die on the spot.

and lo’ak? well, lo’ak just grinned and clapped a hand on neteyam’s shoulder.

“good luck, bro,” he said before slipping away, leaving you both standing there, one of you in utter shock, the other in complete, soul-crushing regret.

neteyam stared at you, tense, waiting, trying to gauge your reaction.

you didn’t look at him at first, eyes fixed on the sand, lips caught between your fangs as if deep in thought. his heart pounded in his chest, breath held as he braced himself for whatever was coming.

then, slowly, the corners of your lips curled.

the biggest, most teasing smile stretched across your face as you finally lifted your gaze to meet his.

“oh,” you said, drawing the word out, tail flicking behind you. “so that’s what you’ve been saying this whole time?”

neteyam groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “lo’ak is dead.”

you laughed, the sound light and full of way too much enjoyment. “no wonder you never translated. what was it you said earlier?” you tapped your chin, pretending to think. “oh, yes, these shells are just as beautiful as you.’”

his ears flattened. “you don’t have to—”

“but i am beautiful, aren’t i?” you interrupted, tilting your head. “since you’ve been saying it so often.”

neteyam clenched his jaw, exhaling through his nose. he could not believe this was happening.

you leaned in slightly, eyes shining with mischief. “tell me, mighty warrior, what else have you been calling me?”

he groaned again, feeling his entire body heat up. this was not how he wanted you to find out.

but when he looked at you, truly looked at you, all teasing and bright-eyed, wearing that smile that made his stomach flip, he knew, deep down, that lo’ak had only sped up the inevitable.

so, with a deep breath, he straightened his shoulders and met your gaze.

“do you really want to know?” he asked, voice lower now, steadier.

your teasing smirk faltered just slightly. “…yes.”

neteyam took a step closer, eyes locked onto yours.

“yawntu,” he murmured, watching as your brows furrowed. “seysonì.”

you blinked, lips parting, the teasing edge in your expression flickering with something softer.

then he leaned in, voice just above a whisper.

“my love.”

your breath hitched.

for the first time since this little game between you had started, you found yourself at a loss for words.

your eyes flickered down to his lips for just a second—quick, barely noticeable, but he noticed. of course he did. neteyam was always watching, always reading you like an open scroll.

his ears twitched, tail giving the smallest flick as he took another step closer. close enough that you could feel the warmth radiating from his skin, close enough that the teasing atmosphere between you had shifted into something else. something heavier.

“you’re quiet,” he murmured, voice laced with amusement. “that’s new.”

you swallowed, trying to regain some sense of control. “shut up,” you muttered, but the usual bite in your words was missing.

neteyam smirked. he knew he had you now.

slowly, deliberately, he lifted a hand, fingers brushing against the shell still clutched in your grasp. his touch was light—barely there, but it sent a shiver down your spine.

“you never did tell me,” he mused, golden eyes locked onto yours. “do you think i’m beautiful too?”

your heart pounded against your ribs. that smug skxawng. he was throwing your own words back at you.

but two could play this game.

tilting your chin up, you gave him a slow, knowing smile. “wouldn’t you like to know?”

then, before he could get the last word in, you turned on your heel, leaving him standing there; stunned, frustrated, and entirely hooked.

you left him standing there, smug and victorious, but your heart was still pounding.

by the time you returned home, you needed to find your sister.

because these forsaken sully brothers had somehow woven their way into both of your hearts.

you found tsireya near the woven mats of your family’s marui, carefully threading beads onto a new piece of jewelry. she looked up as you entered, a soft smile on her lips—one that quickly turned into curiosity when she saw the look on your face.

“you look…” she tilted her head, studying you. “different.”

you scoffed, flopping down beside her. “frustrated.”

tsireya’s brows lifted. “ah. neteyam?”

you groaned, rubbing your temples. “always.”

her soft laugh rang through the marui, and for a moment, you let yourself relax. but then you narrowed your eyes, gaze flickering to the necklace she was working on.

“let me guess,” you said, nodding toward it. “for lo’ak?”

tsireya hesitated, just for a moment, before a faint blush dusted her cheeks.

you gaped at her. “oh, eywa.”

“it is not—”

“you’re making him jewelry?”

“he—he appreciates our traditions!” she defended, though the flustered look on her face betrayed her.

you stared at her for a long moment before shaking your head. “we’re doomed,” you muttered, flopping onto your back. “the sully brothers have ruined us.”

tsireya only giggled, threading another bead onto the string. “maybe.” then, she cast you a knowing look. “but you don’t seem to mind.”

you groaned, covering your face with your hands. because, deep down, you didn’t. not one bit.

as the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in hues of deep orange and violet, your village buzzed with excitement. the salty breeze carried the scent of roasting fish and sweet fruits, mingling with the rhythmic sounds of drums echoing across the shoreline.

tonight was a night of festivities; a celebration of unity, of eywa’s blessings, of all that made your people strong. and, as the daughter of the olo’eyktan, it was one of those things you had to attend.

you stood near your family’s marui, adjusting the beaded adornments woven into your hair as your mother fussed over your attire. ronal was ever the perfectionist, making sure you looked every bit the part of a leader’s daughter.

“you must be present,” she reminded you, hands steady as she adjusted the woven top covering your chest. “engage with the people. show them your strength.”

you held back a sigh. “yes, sa’nok.”

beside you, tsireya giggled under her breath. she, of course, loved these gatherings. but you? you found them tiring, always forced to play the part of the dutiful daughter: composed, graceful, responsible.

still, you knew your role. you straightened your shoulders, casting one last glance at the glowing horizon before following your family toward the center of the village.

the festival was already in full swing when you arrived, torches casting golden light over the gathering crowd. children wove between the adults, laughter ringing through the air as dancers moved to the steady beat of the drums.

your attire was more ethereal than usual; custom-made loincloths adorned with the prettiest shells and beads, catching the firelight with every movement, making you shine. the woven top your mother had chosen was delicate yet intricate, the beading cascading down your torso like water, reflecting the hues of the ocean. you looked every bit the daughter of the olo’eyktan, and though you wouldn’t admit it aloud, the way eyes followed you as you walked made you feel powerful.

you had done your duties; exchanged pleasantries, greeted those who needed to be greeted, smiled when necessary, when you suddenly felt a presence.

a familiar presence.

you didn’t have to look to know who it was. you felt his eyes on you before you even spotted him across the crowd.

neteyam.

he was standing with his family, expression unreadable, but there was something in his gaze, something intentional.

your heart gave an annoyingly noticeable thump.

and you just knew, this night was about to get a whole lot more interesting.

your father had given his speech, his voice commanding as he spoke of unity, of eywa’s blessings, of the strength of the metkayina. you were just settling into your place beside tsireya when you felt it. the people cheered, the drums picked up, and just like that, the festivities truly began.

which meant you were finally free.

you exhaled, the weight of expectation lifting as you slipped through the crowd, seeking a moment to just be. the village was alive with celebration, dancers twirling near the fire, warriors boasting about their latest hunts, children giggling as they weaved through the legs of their elders. it was beautiful, vibrant, home.

you found yourself near the shoreline, where the glow of the lanterns met the shimmering tide, your toes sinking into the cool sand. the festivities carried on behind you, but for a moment, you allowed yourself to take it all in—the crashing of the waves, the salt in the air, the hum of music in the background.

and then, of course, he appeared.

“you clean up nice.”

the deep voice sent a shiver down your spine, one you quickly masked by rolling your eyes before turning to face him.

neteyam stood a few paces away, arms crossed, a smirk tugging at his lips. his own attire was different tonight—his usual warrior gear swapped for something more ceremonial, beads woven into his braids, the soft glow of bioluminescent paint marking his skin.

he looked… good.

not that you’d tell him that.

“you again?” you sighed dramatically, placing a hand on your hip. “is there nowhere i can go without you appearing like a shadow?”

neteyam chuckled, stepping closer. “if you wanted to be alone, you wouldn’t have come here.”

you scoffed, though you didn’t move away as he reached your side, standing beside you as the waves lapped at your feet.

a beat of silence passed before he tilted his head slightly, golden eyes scanning your face.

“you really do look beautiful tonight.”

it wasn’t teasing this time. no smug grin, no playful lilt to his voice. just a quiet truth, spoken into the space between you.

and for the first time tonight, you had no clever response.

back at the heart of the festivities, away from the shoreline where you and neteyam stood, two warriors, two leaders, watched.

tonowari and jake stood side by side, their conversation casual, yet their eyes keenly observant. they had been discussing the ongoing training of the young hunters, the state of the tides, and other matters of importance. but, at some point, their attention had drifted.

to you and neteyam.

because, despite whatever you and neteyam thought, you were not subtle.

jake exhaled through his nose, shaking his head as he watched his eldest son step closer to you, the way his body naturally leaned toward yours, the way you, despite your best efforts, didn’t pull away.

“they think they’re being discreet,” jake muttered.

tonowari hummed in agreement, arms crossed over his broad chest. “they are not.”

jake sighed. “he’s got it bad.”

tonowari’s lips twitched slightly, amusement flickering in his sharp eyes. “as does she.”

jake glanced at him, smirking. “that a problem?”

tonowari was quiet for a moment, watching as you shoved neteyam’s shoulder, only for the boy to grin and lean right back into your space.

“…no,” the olo’eyktan finally said. “not yet.”

jake chuckled, clapping him on the shoulder. “good luck with that, brother.”

tonowari just sighed, already bracing himself for the storm that was sure to come.

back with you and neteyam, the air was thick.

the kind of thick that made your skin feel too warm, your chest too tight. the kind of thick that had your heart pounding a little faster than it should, your breath catching at the way his golden eyes burned into yours.

the tension could have been cut with a knife.

but the question was, who was going to make the first move?

neteyam was watching you closely now, that cocky smirk long gone. his lips were slightly parted, his chest rising and falling in steady breaths, though you could tell, that he was feeling it too. that same charged, unspoken pull that neither of you were willing to put words to.

for once, he wasn’t teasing.

for once, you were the one trying to look anywhere but at him.

“you’re quiet again,” he murmured, voice lower now, softer.

your fingers curled into your palms. “you talk enough for both of us.”

neteyam chuckled, but it was breathier than usual, as if even he wasn’t fully present in the words. his gaze flickered down for a split second, to your lips just for a moment, but it was enough.

your stomach flipped.

you swallowed, suddenly hyper-aware of everything. the way the firelight flickered over his skin. the way his braids shifted as he tilted his head. the way his hands flexed at his sides, like he was debating something.

your tail twitched. was he going to do it? was he going to be the one to break first?

neteyam shifted slightly, leaning in just a fraction—so small, so subtle, but you caught it.

and eywa help you, you didn’t move away.

maybe you should’ve. maybe you should have smirked, teased him, run before he could turn this whole thing into something real.

but you didn’t.

instead, you just stared at him, pulse racing, waiting to see if this would be the moment one of you finally gave in.

just as your lips were about to touch, just as you felt the faintest graze of them, the smallest, feather-light brush—

a loud, booming clearing of a throat shattered the moment.

you jerked away so fast you nearly lost your footing, and neteyam; mighty warrior, future olo’eyktan, practically jumped back as if you had burned him.

that was how deep the two of you had been in your own little world.

heart hammering against your ribs, you turned, already knowing what you’d find. and, sure enough—

there stood tonowari.

and beside him, looking far too amused for his own good, was jake sully.

oh, eywa.

your father’s arms were crossed, expression unreadable, but the sheer weight of his stare was enough to make you wish the ocean would just swallow you whole.

jake, on the other hand, had the audacity to smirk, glancing between you and neteyam like this was the most entertaining thing he’d seen all night.

neteyam straightened immediately, shoulders squared, but you knew him too well. knew that beneath that carefully composed expression, he was panicking.

“neteyam.” jake’s voice was easygoing, but the warning beneath it was clear.

“sir.” neteyam’s response was stiff, formal, and oh eywa, you had to fight the urge to laugh at how utterly caught he looked.

tonowari said nothing at first, just looked at you, then at neteyam, then back at you. and somehow, somehow, that was worse than if he’d yelled.

“i see you are both enjoying the festivities,” he finally said, voice far too calm.

you swallowed. “yes, sa’nok’itan,” you murmured, trying to keep your voice even, though you swore you saw the corner of jake’s mouth twitch.

neteyam, to his credit, didn’t flinch. but the tips of his ears were burning red. “we were just—”

“i am sure you were,” tonowari cut in smoothly.

and that? that was when you knew you were done for.

you dared a glance at neteyam, but he refused to meet your gaze, jaw clenched so tight you thought his teeth might crack.

jake clapped a firm hand on his son’s shoulder, barely containing his grin. “why don’t we let them enjoy the rest of the festivities?” he said, clearly enjoying this way too much.

tonowari exhaled through his nose, giving you one last long look before nodding. “come,” he said, turning to leave. “we will speak later.”

you felt your stomach drop.

and then, just like that, they were gone, leaving you and neteyam standing there—mortified, frustrated, and one second away from kissing.

for a long moment, neither of you spoke.

then…

“…so,” neteyam muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. “that was—”

“do not.” you cut him off, voice tight, because if you thought about it for one more second, you were going to combust.

neteyam exhaled sharply through his nose, running a hand down his face before finally, finally, meeting your gaze.

and despite everything, despite the sheer embarrassment of it all, he smirked.

“next time,” he murmured, stepping just close enough to send a shiver down your spine, “we pick a better spot.”

your jaw dropped. “neteyam!”

but he was already walking away, laughing, leaving you standing there, flustered and fuming, knowing damn well he’d just won.

[ari-ana-bel-la]

Hi my love please please please could you write for any driver but preferably Charles or George with a daughter who was born really early and with a heart condition so they were super worried but once she’s older (like 15) she’s really sporty but she still like faints sometimes and gets really sick and dizzy and just her dad and honorary uncles helping her out a couple times in the paddock cos their all so used to it

Stronger than you think

George had always known he would be a protective dad. He wasn’t ashamed of it. From the moment Yn came into the world too early, too fragile, with a heart condition that had left him and Carmen sleepless for weeks on end, he had promised himself he’d always be there.

And he had been. Every hospital visit, every late-night fever, every dizzy spell—he was there, holding her hand, reassuring her, sometimes pretending he wasn’t terrified himself.

Yn was fifteen now, and she was stubborn. She had fallen in love with tennis when she was ten, and despite everything—the fainting, the exhaustion, the doctor’s warnings that she had to be careful—she refused to give up.

George admired that about her. He also hated it. Because every time she stepped onto the court, he worried. Every time she insisted she was fine, he doubted it. And every time she got dizzy, he was reminded that his baby girl was still fragile, no matter how strong she tried to be.

Which was exactly why he was on edge every time she joined him at a race weekend. The heat, the long walks, the excitement—it was a recipe for disaster. And George, along with her honorary uncles, had long perfected the art of handling it when things went south.

It happened in Saudi-Arabia.

Yn had been fine all morning, sipping on the electrolyte drink her mom had packed, chatting with Lando about some ridiculous show they were both watching. George had kept an eye on her, as he always did, but she looked good. Healthy.

That lasted until just before qualifying.

George was getting ready to leave the hospitality area when he caught Alex’s eyes widen slightly, glancing toward Yn.

“Uh, mate?” Alex’s voice was calm but urgent.

George turned and saw it immediately. Yn had gone pale—too pale. Her hands gripped the counter, her breathing quickening.

“Yn,” George was at her side in a second, his hands on her arms. “Sweetheart, talk to me.”

Yn squeezed her eyes shut, shaking her head. “Dizzy,” she whispered.

Alex had already moved, pulling a chair over. “Here, sit down.”

George guided her onto the chair as Lando appeared, kneeling in front of her. “Did you drink enough?” Lando asked, voice softer than usual.

“She did,” George answered for her, brushing a few damp strands of hair from her forehead. “It’s just the heat, probably. You’re okay, love, just breathe.”

Yn nodded, gripping his arm as if grounding herself. “Sorry,” she muttered.

Lando scoffed. “Don’t be dumb. It’s fine.”

Alex reappeared with a cold towel, pressing it against the back of her neck. “You’re doing great, kid.”

Yn huffed a weak laugh. “I hate this.”

George’s heart clenched. “I know, sweetheart,” he murmured. “Just let it pass.”

Yn leaned against him, and George felt the tension in his chest loosen slightly when her breathing evened out. It was always like this—a scare, a moment of helplessness, and then she’d be fine again.

But that never made it easier.

It was Saturday in Silverstone when it happened again.

Yn had been feeling good that morning—excited even. Charles had promised to take her to the Ferrari garage and show her the car up close, and she had been buzzing about it for hours.

But excitement, George had learned, could be just as dangerous as exhaustion.

They were halfway through the tour when Charles suddenly reached out, catching Yn’s arm as she swayed slightly.

“Woah,” Charles steadied her, his grip firm but gentle. “Yn, you okay?”

Yn blinked rapidly, exhaling sharply. “Uh. No. Not really.”

George had been walking just a few steps behind, and his heart nearly stopped when he saw her expression.

Charles didn’t hesitate. “Come, sit down.”

He led her to a small bench, guiding her down as George rushed over.

Yn let out a shaky laugh. “This is so embarrassing.”

George crouched in front of her, checking her pulse. “You feeling faint?”

Yn nodded. “Yeah. A little.”

Charles had already grabbed a bottle of water, twisting off the cap and handing it to her. “Sip this. Slowly.”

George exhaled, rubbing a hand over his face. “This keeps happening,” he muttered.

Charles patted his shoulder. “She’s okay.”

Yn made a face. “I don’t feel okay.”

Charles chuckled. “I know, but you will.”

They stayed there for a few more minutes, Charles and George keeping a careful watch over her. Eventually, the color returned to her face, and she sighed, leaning against her dad’s shoulder.

“Sorry,” she mumbled.

George kissed the top of her head. “Stop apologizing, love.”

Charles grinned. “Yeah, you’re just keeping us on our toes.”

Yn groaned. “I hate being the fragile one.”

George’s grip on her tightened slightly. “You’re not fragile,” he said. “You’re stronger than anyone I know.”

She looked up at him, eyes bright despite the exhaustion. “Really?”

George smiled. “Really.”

It was the summer break, and George had thought Yn would get a much-needed rest.

But no. She had been training for an upcoming tennis tournament, and by the time she arrived at the next race weekend, she was already drained.

It didn’t take long for Lando to notice.

“Alright, what’s up with you?” he asked after she sat down with a little too much effort.

Yn blinked at him. “Nothing?”

Lando raised a brow. “Right. And I’m an astronaut.”

Yn rolled her eyes. “I’m just tired.”

Lando turned to George, who sighed. “She’s been pushing herself too hard.”

Yn scoffed. “I have not.”

Lando narrowed his eyes. “You’re a terrible liar.”

Yn groaned, rubbing her temples. “Can you guys stop treating me like I’m made of glass?”

Lando grinned. “Never.”

Yn groaned louder, but before she could argue more, Lando pulled out his phone.

“Okay, we’re gonna play a game,” he announced.

Yn blinked. “What?”

“A game,” Lando repeated. “Distraction tactics. I ask you questions, you answer them. No thinking too hard.”

Yn sighed. “Fine.”

Lando smirked. “Alright, what’s the worst movie you’ve ever seen?”

Yn frowned. “Uh. That one you made me watch. The one about the talking dog.”

Lando gasped dramatically. “That movie is a masterpiece!”

George chuckled, shaking his head. “She’s right, mate. It was terrible.”

Yn grinned. “See?”

Lando pretended to look offended. “Unbelievable.”

Yn laughed, and for a moment, she looked like she wasn’t exhausted. And that was all Lando needed.

George sent him a grateful look. Lando just shrugged.

This was their routine. And they were damn good at it.

That night, after the race, George found Yn sitting outside, staring at the stars.

He sat beside her, nudging her knee with his. “What’s on your mind?”

Yn sighed. “I just… hate that this keeps happening.”

George stayed quiet, letting her speak.

“I hate that I still faint. I hate that I still get dizzy. I hate that everyone worries about me.” She exhaled, eyes glassy. “I just wanna be normal.”

George’s heart ached. He wrapped an arm around her, pulling her close. “Yn, listen to me. You are normal. And you’re also strong. And brave. And kind. And stubborn as hell.”

Yn snorted. “You say that like it’s a good thing.”

George smiled. “It is.”

She leaned against him. “Thanks, Dad.”

George kissed her hair. “Always, sweetheart.”

And he meant it. No matter how many times she fainted, no matter how many times she got sick—he would always be there. Because that’s what fathers did.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♥︎♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Authors Note: Hey loves! I hope you enjoyed reading this story. My requests are always open for you.

-🩷🎀

[celesteleoves]

Request for Izuku coming to the readers dorm because he needed them to patch him up because training was tough and he decided to not go to recovery girl for some reason(basically just a patching up fic w izuku😭)

“NO GRAVE CAN HOLD MY BODY DOWN, I’LL CRAWL HOME TO HER.”

ೃ࿐ izuku midoriya x reader.

summary: what the ask says :)

disclaimers: established realtionship, izuku is silly…. mentions of bones being broken/other injuries, that’s all i believe! reader is kinda suggested to be female…

a/n: AWWW this might be my favourite ask yet! thank u 🤍 i hope i wrote this exactly to your liking.

—-

izuku hated relying on others. he never liked being a bother, even to those who insist he can always go to them if he ever needs anything). it’s one of his flaws, he thinks.

carrying the weight of one for all on his shoulders constantly was a reminder just how much he needed to learn how to be more independent. the broken bones, harsh sparring with his classmates, recovery girl visits. he really needs to learn how to patch himself up…

currently, he sat in his own dorm. groaning to himself as he moved slightly, muscles incredibly sore. the boy slowly lifted his shirt up, revealing the bruises and small cuts he received after training for hours. as he lifted his hands up to brush his hair back, he got an idea. a very smart one!

“she wouldn’t be too mad, right?” izuku mumbled to himself as he sluggishly stood up, making his way to your dorm.

the walk was long and treacherous (it’s a minute walk). as izuku finally stood in front of your dorm, he thought about your reaction. you are a very caring person. you’ll definitely be easygoing about this!

-

“are you kidding me izuku?!” your jaw dropped at the sight of your disheveled boyfriend who only smiled sheepishly. you immediately turned into scolding y/n mode, rambling on and on about how he should take it easy.

“i knew you’d be a bit mad… i’m sorry.”

your boyfriends words made you falter in your speech as you took in the weight of the situation. he had simply gone too far in training.

instead of going to someone else, he came to you? the thought made you frown in a caring matter. you looked at him closely. his eyes glistened, looking like he’s more hurt about your reaction instead from his own wounds. his white shirt had splotches of grass and dirt on it. you couldn’t help but feel responsible for your lover in this moment. you knew he only worked hard to be stronger for you and himself.

“come in, no- don’t lay on that. your shirt is covered with dirt. take it off!” you spoke to him in a exaggerated tone.

izuku froze in his movements, thinking about what you just said to him. he’s not in middle school anymore, why is he getting flustered right now?! izuku curses teenage hormones for existing.

rather too quickly for his liking: izuku’s face flushed and he nervously toyed with his shirt, “take it off?!”

“yes. babe.” you looked at him with a puzzled expression, holding a small first aid kit in your hand (you made it for izuku at the very start of the school year after learning that he often injures himself). “i need to see where your hurt.”

“oh… right!”

it took him a minute to compose himself, his shyness taking over as he carefully took off his shirt. the act made you almost want to laugh as you’ve seen him without a shirt on multiple occasions.

your giggly mood was completely knocked away when you took in the sight of a rather red slash on his lower abdomen.

you moved towards your boyfriend who sat against your bed frame, legs spread as if anticipating you to settle yourself in between them. that’s exactly what you did.

“whoa, what the hell happened here?”

“landed on a piece of rock while jumping… scratched myself. i already did hydrotherapy like you said, i didn’t have the materials to do anything else though.”

you hummed at his words, picking up a antibiotic and placing it on izukus wound with your right hand. he hissed at the sting and you rubbed his side with your left hand in an attempt to comfort him. it worked. izuku relaxed at the feeling of your touch on his skin.

the room was quiet, lights slightly dim, as you worked. placing gauze and then bandage around his abdomen, wrapping it twice for good measure.

you looked up, softly grabbing your boyfriends face and turning it left to right.

izuku stared at you with his bright green eyes and you blushed under his stare. you felt him toy with the bottom of your top, fiddling with the material.

“stop distracting me, i’m trying to check for cuts.”

“sorry! you’re just so pretty… and a really good doctor.”

you let a grin and cackle slip at his words. he laughed at your reaction, watching you carefully as you stood up. you moved towards your wardrobe and opened a drawer. izuku tilted his head in wonder, what were you doing?

you pulled out a shirt and a pair of pj pants. izuku intrigued at the items. those were both his, when had he put them in your drawer?

“oh, you left them after you slept here. i just figured i should give your stuff its own drawer.”

izuku hadn’t realized he spoke out loud and he only stared at you in silent shock. you were too good for him.

you tossed the clothes towards him as he rested against your pillows, staring at you in adoration.

“what?” you plopped down beside him, nudging his bicep as he looked down at you.

“you’re too good for me. thank you.”

you lit up at his loving words. if there was one thing izuku was perfect at, it was making you feel loved unconditionally no matter what.

“oh stop, you’re too good for me.”

“we could argue about this for hours, just accept it.”

“um no! everyone knows you’re too good for me.”

“i’ll start rambling about you if you don’t stop.”

“… and who says i wouldn’t like that?”

izuku paused, a grin slowly creeping up on his face at your serious expression.

you cracked, turning into a laughing fit and he laughed with you, holding you in his arms. the pain that he felt in his muscles not too long ago had seemingly faded away as soon as he held you in his embrace. your warmth and love felt as though it healed him.

izuku hated relying on others. but, he knows no matter what — you’ll always make sure he knows he can rely on you for anything.

[krirebr]

Still Life 2

Pairing: Alpha Curtis Everett x Omega Female Reader

Word Count: ~5.9k

Summary: Curtis has been volunteering as a foster alpha for three years now. He's never seen a case this bad...

Warnings: Heavy angst (with an eventual happy ending), past abuse (not Curtis), alpha/beta/omega dynamics, physical scarring, extreme sexism (both external and internal), adult themes, referenced past non-con (including but not limited to somnophilia, partner-sharing, and drugging), fear of non-con, the slowest burn I've done yet. All of my work is 18+ - Minors DNI

Dividers by me this time!

Series Masterlist

Masterlist

A/N: Here am I, the angst fairy, coming to really bum you out right before Valentine's Day! You're welcome? 😂 But seriously, friends, this is a rough one, so please read the warnings and take care of yourself!

A huge thanks to @bigtreefest who talked through so much of this with me, and @stargazingfangirl18 who helped me figure out the particulars of how alpha/omega dynamics work in this world (both for this part and going forward)!

Any comment, reblog, or ask to let me know what you think will be greatly appreciated. And if you need to come scream at me, that's ok too!

As always, thank you so much for reading! 💜

You should’ve expected this. It was exactly what they’d always said would happen. That the government abhorred personal freedom and one day they would come to try to take everything the alphas had built for themselves. They wanted to seize all the land and the guns and capture the omegas to sell them off to the highest bidder or put them in a breeding program. 

But before, whenever the topic came up, whichever alpha was ranting against big government, be it Franco, Wilford, or your father, would inevitably turn to what would happen when the government pigs came to take what was theirs. The mindless troops would be met with guns and fire and pure alpha might. And they’d learn what happened when you messed with true alphas.

But that wasn’t what happened, was it? No. That wasn’t what led to you standing in the middle of your new alpha’s house. You should count yourself lucky, you supposed, that you hadn’t ended up in a breeding program—horror stories about those programs used to keep you up at night as a teenager. Stories whispered among the omegas, a reminder of how lucky you all were to be safe in the compound.

You hadn’t felt safe for a long time, but you weren’t sure you’d ever been in this much danger. You were completely on your own, given away to one of the biggest alphas you’d ever seen. Much bigger than Franco or Wilford. You’d never be able to fight him. He’d be able to hurt you even worse than either of them.

That was all you could think about as he showed you around his house. You didn’t know why he was bothering. You were sure you’d only need to know where his bedroom and the kitchen were. 

But still, he showed you the living room, the bathrooms, a room he called his home office. It was outside of that room that he stopped and turned to you. “I work from home,” he said, his voice a steady rumble. “So I’ll be around if you ever need me. I just ask that you knock first before coming in if I’m working. Okay?”

“Yes, Alpha,” you said by rote, but your mind was racing. He would always be here. You’d never get a break. There’d be no way to hide anything from him. Even Franco had left the house every day to go about his business, whatever that was. Sure, you still had Martha trying to know all of your secrets, but as long as you did the chores and kept the pups out of her way, you could deal with her. And as much as you hated Franco’s First Omega, she was still better than him.

At the thought of your Alpha, you swore the mark on your neck throbbed. Where was he now? Locked up? Dead?? Did it even matter? He wasn’t actually your alpha anymore. He used to talk sometimes about how before civilization when it was everyone out for themselves in the wilderness and omegas were scarce, stronger alphas would kill weaker ones and steal their omegas, biting over the existing mark. He’d laugh when he described the ravaged state of an omega’s neck bearing mark after mark until she was finally captured by an alpha strong enough to keep her. He always looked at you when he said that last part, at your mark. 

But he hadn’t been strong enough to keep you, had he? Not in the end. None of them had been.

The alpha had moved on down the hall and you scrambled to keep up with him. He stopped in front of a doorway, blocking your view inside. “This is my room,” he said.

You took a deep breath. Okay. It was time then. You could do this. You could be a good omega. You waited for him to move into the room so you could follow, but instead, he gestured to the room behind you. “And that one’s yours.” 

It took you a moment to understand what he’d said. Then you slowly turned around, confused, to find a small bedroom. Without thinking, you took a few tentative steps inside. It was bright, the sun streaming in through the curtains. There was a bed in the center of the room, covered in a dove gray quilt with flowers stitched into it. There was a collection of dusty rose pillows covering the top third, in all sorts of shapes and sizes. A plush-looking chair in a similar color was tucked into the corner. There was a big window set into the far wall. Sheer curtains softly billowed over it. Two bins were stacked beneath it. Against the perpendicular wall, sat a short dresser made of dark wood, and next to it a small closet. Across from that, you could see a little ensuite bathroom. All of it was much nicer than the little room with the thin cots that you used to share with Martha and Emmy when any one of you wasn’t in Franco’s bed. You couldn’t understand why he was giving it to you. Just you. As far as you could tell, there weren’t any other omegas here. It was much too nice for you on your own.

You turned back to him, hoping to find some clues there, but he had the same vaguely soft look on his face he’d had since you’d first walked into the room at the center you’d first been brought to. You didn’t like that look, didn’t know what to do with it. It’d drop soon anyway. You knew it would. The waiting was the worst part.

You dropped your gaze when he cleared his throat. “There’s nesting supplies in those two bins under the window. With or without alpha scent. So you can go ahead and make yourself comfortable.”

You blinked at the two bins he’d gestured to. You didn’t understand what he wanted you to do, but you nodded anyway with a quiet, “Yes, Alpha.”

He hovered in the doorway, not taking even one step into the room. “Are you still hungry?” he asked.

You shook your head. He’d stopped and gotten you a breakfast sandwich on the way to his house and had let you eat it in his truck. You’d eaten it quickly so he couldn’t change his mind, extremely careful not to get any crumbs on his upholstery. 

He sighed and you were gripped by panic that you may have disappointed him. You had no idea how you might have done that but this wouldn’t be the first time that an alpha’s expectations had been unknowable to you. But he didn’t say anything about it or make any move to punish you. You kept a wary eye on him anyway.

“Well,” he said, taking a step back into the hallway. “I have some calls to make and a little work to do. I know you’ve had a long night, so I’ll let you rest for a bit. But please come get me if you need anything.” 

“Yes, Alpha,” you whispered, knowing for a fact that you would do absolutely everything you could not to disturb him. An omega’s job was to make her alpha’s life easier, to bring him pleasure. Omegas didn’t need things. They should never be that selfish. You would show this alpha how good you could be. To protect yourself, you’d do whatever you could.

He looked at you, a furrow between his brows, then just nodded and walked down the hall. You waited for a moment to make sure he didn’t come back. When he didn’t, you carefully made your way around the room. You placed your knapsack on the chair in the corner and took out the only other dress you’d managed to grab on your way out of Franco’s house to hang up in the closet. It looked pathetic, hanging by itself. You took off your shoes and placed them underneath it. Finally, you took the little friendship bracelet out of it’s hiding place at the bottom of the bag. You reverently set it on the dresser, the little ballerina charm Grace had managed to sneak into the house for you hanging off the wood. 

You turned towards the two bins against the wall. The alpha clearly wanted you to do something with them but you had no idea what. You gingerly opened the first bin and were immediately hit by the strong scent of cedar and leather and alpha, the same scent that had engulfed you in his truck and subtly permeated this house. But this bin was like being slapped in the face with it. You couldn’t breathe. You closed it as fast as you could. You were even more cautious as you opened the second bin, but you weren’t struck by any strong scents as you removed the lid that time. You looked inside to find a collection of blankets and pillows. You carefully touched one to find the softest blanket you’d ever felt. Without thinking, you brought it out of the box and buried your face in it, as tears pricked at your eyes. You didn't want to cry anymore. It wouldn't change anything. 

You pulled the blanket after you as you climbed onto the bed. You’d been awake for most of the last twenty-four hours and you could finally feel the adrenaline leeching out of you. The intense fear was still there, but it could no longer overpower your extreme exhaustion. You wrapped the blanket around yourself and quickly fell asleep.

You weren’t sure what exactly had woken you up, but your heart was already racing. Nightmares you couldn’t remember but could still feel were wrapped around you. You sat up and tried to force yourself to breathe. You weren’t in the compound anymore. You never would be again. You wished that could be a comfort to you, but now you were surrounded by unknown threats and dangers. You shouldn’t be so upset. This was just what happened to omegas. You’d been suddenly uprooted from your home before, dropped somewhere you didn’t know anything or anyone. It’d probably happen again. Especially if you didn’t do everything you could to please this alpha.

You wrapped the blanket tighter around yourself. It was one of the softest things you’d ever felt. You almost felt safe in this little cocoon you’d made yourself. Then you saw movement in the open doorway.

The alpha stood there, knocking softly on the door, something tucked under one arm. “Hey, I thought you might be awake,” he said, his voice quieter than you’d ever heard an alpha speak before. “Can I come in?”

“Yes, Alpha,” you said immediately, even as you felt that fear rising in your chest again. You didn’t know why he was asking.

He stopped and looked at you carefully, which made you shrink down as much as you could. He sighed with a small grimace. “On second thought, how ‘bout you come join me in the living room? Whenever you’re ready.” 

He took off down the hall, and, after you’d carefully put the blanket away, you followed him. He stood in the middle of the cozy room. “Sit wherever you’d like,” he said. 

You looked at the two plush couches and the recliner with panic. Was this a test? Was there a right answer? Where would he sit? You never would have sat before Franco. That would have gotten you in so much trouble. Was this alpha trying to trick you?

After a few moments, he softly called your name. “You can sit on that couch, if you want,” he said, gesturing to the larger of the two sofas. You let out a sigh of relief as you sat where he pointed. He sat on the other side of the same couch, giving you plenty of space, then took out what he’d been holding under his arm, revealing it to be a laptop, like Franco Jr used to have. He opened it and held it out to you. “You need more clothes. We have a stipend from the Center to get you the things you need so don't worry about the cost. Do you know how online shopping works?” You just sort of shrugged unsure of what the right answer was. You knew how to use a computer, but Franco had made sure none of his omegas ever had any access to his money, as was his right as the Alpha. “That’s fine,” he said, then showed you the buttons you needed to press to make an order. Then, inconceivably, he passed the computer over to you. “Pick out whatever you like, then if it’s all available at a local store, we’ll hopefully be able to get it delivered by tonight.” Then he sat back, giving you space.

You looked at the webpage in front of you, filled with dozens of pictures of models in different pieces of clothing. The title at the top of the page said Omega Loungewear, but as you scrolled down through the pictures, you couldn’t understand why. None of this was appropriate for omegas. There were leggings and shorts, t-shirts and tank tops, big baggy sweaters, something called bralettes that you couldn’t believe they were just showing pictures of right out in the open. There were some cotton dresses that might be ok, depending on what the alpha wanted, but he hadn’t told you. He wanted you to know. He wanted you to be good. To prove it. And everything was available in different colors and patterns and you didn’t know how many you were supposed to pick out or what he wanted or– 

You hadn’t realized your breathing had picked up until he was kneeling in front of you. “Hey,” he said very gently, his hands held out in front of him but not touching you, “hey, it’s okay. You’re alright. Can you please tell me what’s going on?”

You gulped. You were being a stupid omega. This was why omegas shouldn’t make decisions. You lifted the laptop up and passed it back to him. “I don’t know, Alpha,” you said very quietly, nodding to the computer. “I’m sorry.”

“Hey, no need for apologies, it’s totally fine.” He stopped to think, then with a grimace and a sigh, “Would you like me to pick out some things for you and order them?”

You slumped in relief. He’d know what was okay for you to get. You wouldn’t have to guess. “Yes, Alpha. Thank you, Alpha.”

“That’s another–” he shook his head sadly. “You don’t– You don’t need to address me as alpha. You can call me Curtis, or, or anything. You can call me whatever you want. Whatever makes you comfortable.”

That was definitely a trick. Calling him anything other than Alpha was 100% not allowed. You had the marks on your body to prove it. Omegas might have been stupid, but you were smart for your kind and you wouldn’t fall for this just to be punished. After everything that had happened, you had more self-preservation than that.

“Yes, Alpha,” you said, your eyes on the ground. 

He let out another heavy sigh. “Right,” he said, as he stood up. “I had lunch while you were sleeping, but I set some aside for you. Let me go get it, And then we can” he looked around, flaring his arms to the side, “I don’t know. Watch TV, I guess?”

“Yes, Alpha,” you said, quietly, still not looking at him.

He sighed again. This alpha sighed a lot. He was disappointed in you. He just stood there for a long moment. You could feel him looking at you. You sank back into the couch, trying to make yourself as small as possible. There was another sigh, then, “I’ll be right back.” He turned on the TV as he left the room, leaving the remote within your reach, but you didn’t dare touch it. Another trap.

Franco had had a big TV. He watched a lot of sports and news shows hosted by strong alpha men that talked about how the government was trying to strip alphas of their rightful power. Sometimes there were pretty blonde beta and omega women there to say the same thing. There were other news channels too, but they were all secretly owned by the government and only told lies. 

When Franco was gone, Martha used to sneak into the living room to watch her stories while you and Emmy did chores or took the younger pups outside. You never joined her; she and Emmy would just yell at you for being lazy if you tried. 

So, now, you did your best to ignore whatever was playing until a voice caught your attention. “On tonight’s Eyewitness News at 5, government agencies raid an alpha supremacist group calling themselves The Snowpiercer Collective–” You felt your heartrate pick up. On the screen were images of the compound—the storage barns, the meeting hall, Wilford’s house. Then video of the people in their tactical gear with initials you didn’t understand on their backs holding guns and–

You weren’t sure what had woken you up first, the dogs barking or the sound of guns being fired. Emmy was standing over you, her eyes wide with panic, while Martha screamed behind her for both of you to get your lazy asses moving and get the pups. You didn’t know what was going on. None of you had been in Franco’s bed that night, which meant your little room was full and you’d had to sleep on the floor while the other two claimed the cots. You were stiff and slow and confused as you tried to get moving, still half-asleep. As you cut through the living room to get to the pups’ rooms—you could hear the youngest ones sobbing—you saw that it was still pitch black out, but then the sky would briefly light up with a loud crack of whatever was being fired much too close to your home for comfort. What was happening? Who was there? Where was Franco? He’d left the night before to go play poker with some of the other alphas, so more likely than not, he’d passed out somewhere in the compound before he’d been able to drunkenly stumble home. It’d been a relief that night, but now it meant that you were all completely defenseless from whoever was attacking you.

The three of you gathered the children and tried to herd them out the back door, toward the entrance to the bunker that was about twenty feet behind the house. But as soon as you opened the door, you were met with a full SWAT team and everyone was screaming and their guns were pointed at you and–

“Shit!”

The alpha’s voice brought you back to the present. You were on the floor. You were in your new alpha’s house and you were on the floor. The TV was off and he was crouched in front of you, the remote still in his hand. Your face was wet, tears streaming down your cheeks. You weren’t in the compound anymore, but that didn’t make you feel any safer. He was trying to talk to you, saying something, his tone gentle, but you couldn’t process his words. You were scared and you were tired. And you knew it was bad, you knew it wasn’t what you should do, but you were out of energy and you couldn’t stop yourself from curling up into a ball on the floor and finally sobbing like you’d wanted to since you’d been put into the back of that SWAT van.

You weren’t sure if you woke up, so much as just came to. There was a blanket draped over you—it’d been on the couch, maybe—and a pillow pushed under your head. The alpha must have done it, but you couldn’t imagine him taking such care with you. You could hear the murmurs of a one-sided conversation coming from the other room. 

You slowly sat up. Your eyes hurt and your mouth was dry. You were making a very bad impression on your new alpha. What must he think of you? You would have to work very hard over the next few days to show him that you did actually know how to be a good omega. You would do better.

The alpha took that moment to appear at the entrance to the living room. He held a phone to his ear. “I gotta go, Tanya. I’ll talk to you soon.” He put his phone in the back pocket of his jeans as he took a few steps into the room, then stopped. He stared at you and you dropped your gaze to the floor. You did your very best to keep your breaths even. It was always the worst with Franco when you couldn’t predict him, and you had no idea what this alpha would do.

He cleared his throat. “How are you feeling?” he asked quietly. Before you were able to figure out the best answer to that question, he shook his head. “No, that’s– that’s a stupid question, I know.” He crouched down so he was closer to your level while still several feet away. “Look, I can’t even imagine what you’ve been through, but I want to help you, ok? However I can, I’m here to help you.”

Your mind was racing. Why would he say that? To trick you, a little voice inside you said. That had to be it. Wilford had done that too. Pretended to be friendly and kind and helpful. Until he stopped pretending and you learned who he really was. You shivered at the memory of him. You’d learned your lesson. You wouldn’t be surprised again.

He stayed like that for a few moments, while you kept your head down and didn’t move. Finally he stood up. “I ordered some food. It should be here soon. And your clothes came. So if you want, you could put them away while we wait, and then join me in the kitchen for dinner?”

“Yes, Alpha,” you said quietly as you made yourself stand up. He followed suit and walked into the kitchen where he picked up two canvas bags with the same logo on them and handed them to you. You peered inside. You couldn’t see the shape of the clothes yet, but you could tell there were many items, all in soft pastel colors. 

“I had to make some guesses on sizing,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand. “And, uh, well. It looks like the clothes you currently have maybe don’t fit you quite right? So. So these might feel different.”

You ducked your head. The dress you were wearing had been Martha’s. Your shoes had been Emmy’s. They pinched your toes. Being third omega meant having to make do with what you were given. Even as a kid, everything you’d had had belonged to your older sisters first. You didn’t think you’d ever been the first person to wear something.

You clutched the bags to your chest and whispered, “Thank you, Alpha,” before hurrying down the hall to the bedroom you’d been given. You checked each item as you put it away. Leggings, t-shirts, sweaters, shorts, all made from some of the softest material you’d ever felt. He wouldn’t have gone so far as to spend actual money if it was just a trick or a test, would he? You’d done what you were supposed to, you’d let him choose, so even though these weren’t the clothes you were used to, it’d be okay to wear them, wouldn’t it? You worried your bottom lip. He’d picked them out. This was what he wanted.

At the sound of the doorbell, you hurried back out and arrived in the kitchen as he approached the small table with a short stack of flat, square boxes. “I hope pizza’s okay,” he said. “I got a couple different kinds, so hopefully there’s something you like.”

You didn’t respond. You were good at taking what was given to you. You stood next to the table and waited as he arranged the boxes and put a plate in front of each of you. You didn’t sit down until he did. He opened one of the boxes and gestured to its contents. “Help yourself,” he said. You kept your hands in your lap until he placed a slice on his own plate. Then you grabbed one from the same box. Once he took a bite, you started eating. It was so good. Much better than the frozen pizzas you would occasionally have at the compound. And as soon as you started eating, you realized you were starving. You hadn’t really had lunch, distracted by your ridiculous freakout. You inhaled your first slice, then stared at the box, wondering if it was worth the risk to try to take more. The alpha must have seen you looking because he took two more pieces from the box and placed them on your plate. “Have as much as you want,” he said. “There’s plenty to go around.” 

After a few more minutes of eating in silence, the alpha stood up abruptly, the back legs of his chair scraping loudly against the floor. You jumped in your seat and tried to make yourself small as he briefly loomed over you. 

He moved to the counter and came right back with the little cardboard box the Omega at the center had tried to give you. You shrank back as he held it out to you. “I almost forgot,” he said, “here are the suppressants if you want to start taking them tonight.”

You froze. You tried to force your hand to take the pills from him, but your limbs refused to move. You remembered the first time you'd been sent to Wilford, the High Alpha, the little white pill he'd given you. “To help,” he'd said. But it'd just made you feel tired, loose, disconnected from your body. Defenseless when he'd– Or other times, different pills, different colors and shapes, that'd made you feel like you were going into heat even though it wasn't time yet. That'd made you need things you didn't actually want. And the way Wilford had smiled at you and– 

Your new alpha was looking at you curiously, the pack of pills still in his hand, a mask of concern on his face. You needed to take it. An alpha was giving you something. You should take it. You should take it. You should take it. “What do they do?” you blurted out without meaning to. Oh god. You were in so much trouble. 

All he did at first was blink at you. “What do suppressants do?” he repeated back to you, looking slightly surprised. He withdrew his hand and sat down. “They stop your heats, is the biggest thing, for however long you take them.”

Why– Your heats belonged to your alpha. The whole point of them, of you, was to give your alpha pleasure. And pups. Why would he offer this to you? “You want me to take them?” you whispered.

“I–” He hummed and scratched his beard. “I want you to do whatever makes you feel most comfortable.” 

You looked at him as he made his face go completely blank. It was clearly another test and you weren't sure what the right answer was. Not just taking whatever pills he gave you was obviously bad. But if you had, you would have unknowingly denied him access to your heats, which was unforgivable. It was like you were being set up to fail. Maybe he was just looking for an excuse to punish you. Franco would sometimes do that too. You felt the flare of anger igniting in the pit of your stomach, but you took a deep breath to snuff it out. That would only get you in more trouble. You decided to commit to hopefully what was the lesser disobedience. “No, thank you, Alpha.”

He didn’t react for a moment and you were terrified you’d made the wrong choice. But his scent stayed mostly neutral and when he finally spoke, he just said, “Ok. That’s fine. But if you change your mind later, these will be here. And we can always talk about it again.”

You shook your head. You wouldn’t do that. You were good.

The alpha went to bed right after dinner, saying he was tired from having to wake up early to get you. You’d tried to apologize, but he looked at you funny, so you stopped.

Once he’d left you, you familiarized yourself with his kitchen, then did a thorough wipe down of the kitchen table, and swept underneath it.

When that was done, you retreated to the room he’d given you. There’d been some toiletries mixed in with the clothes he got for you, so you went into the little en suite and took a shower. It felt incredible, not having anyone banging on the door to get in next, or having to worry about using all of the hot water. For everything that was bad and scary about this situation, the chance at being a First Omega wasn’t one of them. Sure, you’d be the sole focus of your alpha’s attention, at least until he got another one, but it came with its perks too.

After your shower, you put on some of the new clothes. They were soft and cozy, cozier than anything you’d ever worn before. Then you climbed into the bed. You’d been so exhausted that morning that you hadn’t noticed much about it, but now, you felt like you were lying on a cloud. And it was so big, just as big as Franco’s bed. You’d be able to really stretch out in it when you were alone.

But would you be alone tonight? You got off the bed to peek out of the room to see that the alpha’s door was closed. You thought about closing your door, there was a lock on it, but if he really wanted to come in, all it would do was slow him down. And get you in trouble in the process. You closed it about three-fourths of the way. That wouldn’t technically be breaking any rules.

Not that you really knew what the rules were. Well, you knew the rules all omegas knew, but every alpha had their own as well. Your father did. Franco did. Wilford certainly had on the nights you had to be with him. But this alpha hadn’t bothered to tell you his yet. Another way to trick you into disobeying him.

You curled up on the bed, wrapping the soft blanket from the bin around yourself. You’d slept a lot of the day. Hopefully, that meant you wouldn’t need to sleep through the night. You wanted to be ready, when the alpha inevitably came for you. You wouldn’t fight him. The bite mark on your neck was proof enough that that wouldn’t do any good. But you just… you hated waking up in the middle of it. You’d rather know what was happening.

You turned over onto your side, trying to get comfortable, as you felt tears welling in your eyes. Again. If Martha were here, she’d yell at you for being a stupid child. You wondered where she’d ended up. Neither she nor Emmy had been shoved into the same van as you. Were they together? What had happened to their pups? You’d probably never see any of them ever again. You didn’t know what it said about you that you didn’t feel much of anything at that thought. Nothing good, probably.

You’d never see Franco again either. A good omega would feel grief at that. A good omega would miss him. Try as hard as you might, maybe you’d never been a very good omega. Maybe that’s how you’d ended up where you were.

You turned over again. You couldn’t get comfortable. This bed was too soft. You got up with a grumble, grabbing the blanket and one of the pillows and dragging them to the corner of the room. You were good at making yourself comfortable on the floor. That would be better. If he got upset that you weren’t waiting for him in bed, then at least you’d learn what his punishments were like.

You huddled into the wall and pulled the blanket tight around yourself, settling in to wait.

You woke with a start. You looked around, trying to get your bearings. You were in that little bedroom. The sun was streaming in through the curtains. Oh god, you’d fallen asleep! You hadn’t meant to do that. As you started to panic, you realized you were still curled up in the corner. Your clothes were still on. The door was exactly how you’d left it. He hadn’t come to take you in the night. You were filled with a strange mix of intense relief and something that felt a lot like dejection. Why hadn’t he come? It didn’t make any sense.

 You heard the clinking of dishware coming from another part of the house just as the scent of breakfast wafted in. Your head shot up, confused. Who was making it? Was there an omega here after all?

You got up and quickly got dressed in another pair of leggings and one of the big, slouchy sweaters. You followed the noise to the kitchen and came to a sudden halt in the doorway. The alpha was making pancakes. You had never seen an alpha cook, not even once, in your entire life. Alphas didn’t cook. That was omegas’ work. Was this his way of rubbing your face in the fact that you were already falling down on the job? Your first morning here and you’d already neglected your duties to the point that he had to cook for himself?

He turned around when he realized you were there and you braced yourself for whatever was coming. But instead of yelling at you, a wide smile overtook his face. “Hey, good morning! I hope you slept okay.” You couldn’t do much other than blink at him, but his smile didn’t falter. “Go ahead and sit,” he said, gesturing to the table. “This’ll be done in just a couple minutes.”

“I can finish it, Alpha” you tried, your voice timid.

He immediately shook his head. “No, no. You’re a guest. Sit down. It’s almost done.”

You did as he said and sat, not taking your eyes off him. This was the strangest alpha you’d ever met. You didn’t understand anything about him. How could you predict him when you didn’t understand him?

True to his word, it was just a few minutes later that he was setting a plate in front of you, along with some syrup. You gingerly poured it over your pancakes, as he sat across from you and did the same. As you carefully cut a small bite for yourself, you felt him watching you, even though he acted like he wasn’t. You took a bite and your eyes fluttered closed. These were the best pancakes you’d ever tasted. Much better than Emmy’s. Much better than yours. 

A small “mmm” escaped your lips. You opened your eyes, embarrassed, to find him still grinning at you. “That’s the first thing you should know about me,” he said, “I make really good pancakes.”

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[prael]

Not Quite Home

Kinktember Day 15: Stand & Carry

Kepler Youngeun x male reader smut

words: 1,495 Kinktember Masterlist

She is everything you're not. Everything you hate. How can someone refuse to have a place to call home?

All this about being a free spirit and experiencing everything that the world has to offer all sounds well and good but how is a tree supposed to grow if it has no roots? But Youngeun insists that is exactly what she is after, the constant thrill, the constant novelty, the rush and urgency. In every interaction, she seems to have been in search of the next big adventure.

And you think you do her a disservice by not understanding.

Perhaps if you had met each other under other circumstances, things might have gone better for the two of you. But now, you resent how she feels like a stranger whenever you're together. She once brought an element of excitement and risk to a routine, drab life, but that grew exhausting and more than once made you feel like you were suffocating. You grew to loathe her carelessness.

"Your parents?" You ask as she stands in your bedroom for the third night in a row, "Have you even told them you're back in town?"

She shakes her head in lieu of an answer, "You know how they are."

"You're going to blame them for wanting their daughter to visit for once?"

Youngeun laughs. It's one of your least favourite traits—her incapability to take anything seriously. "Not your business. Besides, seven nights, remember?"

Yes. Seven nights. This is what she told you, another expiry date on another chapter of whatever the fuck this is between you. Another unspoken contract was signed for the hell of it. A time limit, for something that isn't even real.

"Just think about it," you continue, hopelessly, "talking with your family. It'll clear your mind."

"Know what clears my mind? The wind in my hair, sun on my skin, music in my ears," Youngeun runs her hand through her silky hair, "Landing in some new town, finding a new local hang out to try something exotic and then exploring whatever is hidden in that town's history, picking up a new person, hooking up with them, letting the excitement course through my veins, knowing there's always something else waiting on the horizon."

Another insufferable thing that she does. It's been maybe fifteen minutes since you tangled limbs in the bed and now she's standing across the room naked making no secret of the fact that she picks up guys and girls wherever she goes. Youngeun looks down at you on the mattress and runs her eyes up and down your body, her fingers resting lightly over her collarbone.

You follow the line of her fingers, nails cut short with traces of peeled black nail paint. A callus on her finger is a reminder of how often she played the guitar. She runs them down her chest, thumb catching a nipple in the process of doing so.

"Look at you. You get hotter every time I come back." And just like that, Youngeun drops a compliment, casual and effortless and you question who's benefiting from this relationship because it clearly isn't you.

You're gonna fuck her again tonight. Tomorrow too, and another three nights after that. After which she'll be gone for another six months to a year. There's a weird emotional emptiness to this routine—you give and she takes and this is all she asks.

"Come here, will you? Pin me to this wall already. Make me feel you." Her hand cups her breast and another traces its way down her abs, a clear intention.

You should hate her, really. Like how you hate the idea that she left home for no reason or how she wasted her potential, hate her for her indifference, for her recklessness and her cold detachment, or hate the fact that it's just meaningless sex. 

She doesn't like strings, it makes no sense to her how people commit. If she was the type of person who asked to be understood, you would probably try to, but that's never something she ever expressed. 

For all of that, you don't hate her. It's why you're still walking towards her and she's backing up into the wall.

So, what does she ask for? Her answer is pleasure and pain.

She kisses like a raging fire. Everywhere her hands roam leaves marks on your skin; she scratches deep in your back as you hook her thigh up around your waist. A hand between her legs, sliding in without any sort of preamble. She's still dripping wet, though some of that may well be your last load. She tastes of salty, sweaty sex and you relish it. She kisses and she gasps as your fingers work at her entrance; crooking them upward so you can press them into her and rub right against the sensitive spot inside her.

Her tongue slides past yours, hot and wet as she grinds up into your hand, claws digging into your lower back. Your hand fucks into her roughly with reckless abandon and her breathing gets shallow as your fingers bring her closer and closer.

It doesn't take long, she's close, you know that when she throws her head back against the wall. "Stop—wait, fuck—wait," Youngeun barely gasps and then with your name in her throat, the friction of your fingers sends her over the edge. A moan escapes as her mouth falls open, eyes clamp shut as you finger her to orgasm.

It's always been easy to make Youngeun cum, but it never loses its magic. There's something particularly thrilling to the way she moans your name in that honey-laced rasp, to the way her entire body arches upwards as the pleasure mounts. A sharp gasp cuts the air.

Her limbs slacken. She leans her head against the wall. She's struggling to catch her breath.

And this is the fucking problem. For every reason to hate her, there are so many more reasons to enjoy her.

That's when you lift her, hooking up the other thigh and holding her by her tight little ass. Youngeun hisses and she's staring daggers and that's always a part of the fun. She'll give you these looks that could kill a lesser man, but you know the only solution is to pound her into submission.

"Be rough with me. Hard," Youngeun pants, sucking air in, breath ragged. Her skin's hot to the touch.

"Like last time?" Your voice comes low, thick and gruff as you hook her legs higher.

"No, harder, faster," Youngeun replies between rapid, short breaths, she grips your arms, rolls her hips and wraps her body tighter around you, "Want me to stay? Fuck me until I can't walk out."

You're incensed and sliding your length over her slick, warm, inviting heat, before slamming her back into the wall, entering her in one long hard motion and enjoying the way her lips fall apart; enjoying the way her hot and messy, fucked-out body arches upward as you hit deeper and the way her cries pitch. You don't even wait for her to catch her breath before snapping your hips over and over and giving Youngeun exactly the type of pounding that she wants.

There's a sharp gasp. A second of silence and then a choked-back scream. You feel a palm on the nape of your neck and a sting on your shoulders as her nails dig deep and scratch. She rakes them over the broad expanse of your upper back and it fucking hurts. It fucking stings and it's delicious. You bury yourself deep inside her, stretch and fuck her all open on your dick.

"Like that. Yes! Like that! Fucking ruin me."

"Since you asked so nicely."

Her moans become a struggle now that you've run a hand roughly up her body and planted it around her neck. Squeezing, not too hard, not to cut her airflow, not to bruise, but firmly enough that she will feel it and feel that she is being held. She loves to feel hopeless. And there, that's what you like: her hot, sweaty body locked between you and the wall and helpless against you as you sink into her.

And as much as she says it doesn't mean anything. Youngeun cries out your name like it means something.

The ever-familiar suffocating grip of her wet cunt grips you as she cums again. Bodies flushed together, grinding and sweaty.

"I can't breathe—" Youngeun whimpers in that cracked, vulnerable and submissive way and you snarl. Fuck her up as promised. Hurt her like she begs for. And Youngeun loves it like nothing else, absolutely nothing, her eyes rolling to the back of her head and a strangled groan as you reach another climax and fill up her pussy again. You pound yet another load into her tight hole.

As much as she would hate to ever admit it, this is as close to a home as she has in her life.

[wlwoceaneyes]

Pink Pony Club

pairing: emily prentiss x fem!reader word count: 1.7 k summary: You’re undercover at a drag show to catch a killer. Emily Prentiss is your partner, and your biggest distraction. You haven’t said a word about your feelings, but she sees more than you think. tags: mention of murder, fluff

You never thought you’d find yourself sitting in a club with your colleague Emily Prentiss, watching drag performers. And yet, here you are. Wearing an outfit far too provocative for your taste, hair done, and a layer of makeup thick enough to last several days. Emily sits beside you, in a blouse that shows too much cleavage and tight black pants that emphasize her legs. Her hair is curled—an unusual sight on her, but one that lingers on your mind longer than it should. She looks stunning. And she’s your colleague—you remind yourself of that, shaking your head slightly as if you could rid yourself of the thoughts taking root. But the heat beneath your skin only grows stronger.

You feel yourself warming under her gaze, so you retreat behind your glass of whiskey, hoping to hide the flush in your cheeks. A poor disguise, angainst eyes like hers. Your eyes are fixed on the scene in front of you. A vibrant show radiating so much joy that your smile hasn’t left your face. Everywhere you look, costumes worthy of a Broadway stage, glitter in the air, on the tables and floors. Lights flash across the dimly lit room, music pounds from the massive speakers in every corner, delivering a flawless sound experience to everyone inside. People around you laugh, enjoy themselves, live their lives. At least until the killer finds their next victim. Because that’s why you’re here—to catch someone who, in the past four weeks, murdered two of the club’s performers.

“Anyone catch your eye yet?” Emily snaps you out of your thoughts, her gaze assessing you with that typical intensity that makes you shift uneasily forward.

“Not yet,” you mumble, turning your attention back to the crowd, twisting a strand of hair between your fingers—a habit that crept in over the years — when you’re deep in thought or trying to focus, the motion helps you concentrate.

“You?” you ask when you realize how quiet Emily’s become. You glance over and see her quickly looking away. Frowning, you study her tight jaw, tense shoulder and stony expression. She has no good pokerface, even if she says so. Something is bothering her.

“No. Except for one person who’s been staring at you for a while now,” she says suddenly, her tone strangely flat and forced. “But I don’t think he’s our guy.”

Your heart skips a beat before you can stop it. “Excuse me?” you ask.

“The man by the bar,” she replies, her jaw tensing even more, making her profile seem sharper than usual. “Blonde hair. Black suit. Greasy smile. He’s been watching you for the last fifteen minutes, and you didn’t even notice.”

“I…” you start, but the words vanish before they can take form. What are you even supposed to say?

You hate it when she notices things you miss. It throws you off, not just because you failed to spot him, but because your eyes were only on her. You take another sip of your drink, hoping to buy yourself time, but Emily’s eyes are already back on you. They bore into you, analysing you. It’s like she’s not just reading your expression but your entire inner world. And you’re afraid she might already be doing exactly that.

“Emily,” you mutter, “stop analyzing me.”

“I’m just wondering why you didn’t notice him. You’re a profiler. We’re here to observe people,” she says, shifting a little closer. “Are you distracted?”

Her knee brushes against yours, just a fleeting touch, and you jerk back instinctively. The touch sends a jolt through your whole body, warm and electric. She has that effect on you. And by now, you’re almost sure she knows it. You know you should keep your distance. Instead, you find yourself hoping she touches you again.

“I’m looking for the killer,” you manage to say, your voice shaky, breath catching in your throat.

Emily’s mouth twitches, she noticed. Of course she has. She’s reading you like a book, and there go your hopes that your feelings for her had gone unnoticed. She’s too good at what she does, too good at reading people, using their emotions to her advantage, getting them to reveal things they never meant to say. That’s exactly why she’s one of the best.

You sigh softly, tilt your head, and nod. “Yeah. The killer, Emily. The guy at the bar doesn’t match the profile.”

It’s your first undercover assignment together. You’ve worked solo with her long enough, and until now, you were glad about that. But today, Hotch said you were the perfect pair for the job. Just the memory makes you feel unbearably warm again. You reach for the small bottle of water beside you.

“For the killer. Uh-huh,” Emily’s voice is low, husky, and you drink just to avoid answering. “And yet no one’s caught your eye? Not even the man in the back, with the brown shirt and beige trousers? He fits the profile. Watch him, Y/N. Now.”

She moves even closer, her leg pressed against yours, one arm draped casually behind you on the booth while she looks toward the man she mentioned.

Blood roars in your ears as you try to focus on the guy in the back corner of the club, but your body only registers Emily. Sees only her. You press your lips together, forcing yourself to concentrate on the man who’s watching the performers with an unusual intensity. His fingers twitch, his tongue darts over his lips every few seconds. His posture’s stiff. But still, you don’t think he’s your suspect.

“I think…” you clear your throat, trying to give your voice some weight, “It’s not him.”

“You think, or you’re sure?” Emily’s breath brushes your cheek as she turns toward you. “Why?”

“He…” You hesitate, overwhelmed by her nearness and the challenge in her voice, “He shows possible indicators, but he’s wearing a wedding ring. And his two friends are sitting right there. Our guy is single—likely friendless, due to the social exclusion he experienced growing up. He’s a loner.”

“Very good,” Emily praises, her fingers brushing your bare shoulder for a moment, “Now tell me, who does catch your eye? Who fits the profile you just outlined?”

You’re not sure if she’s trying to teach you something, test your skills, or flirt. Whatever the case, you refuse to let her see how much her presence throws you off. She’s always had a talent for keeping her cards close to the chest. You let out a quiet sigh, put on an uninterested expression, and scan the crowd. You’re here to work, to find a killer. To save lives and bring closure to the victims’ families.

Your gaze lands on a young man sitting alone, close to the stage. His eyes wide, mouth pressed into a tight line. He looks like he belongs here, and yet…

“Three o’clock,” you whisper, taking a sip of your drink. “Black shirt.”

Emily hums in agreement, her fingers brushing the back of your neck for the briefest moment, then they’re gone. You wonder if you imagined it, especially when she suddenly sits a bit further from you again.

You slowly turn your head, just enough to watch her from the corner of your eye. Her expression is unreadable, cool and detached, but her eyes remain fixed on you, not the man you just pointed out.

“Good work,” she says flatly, but there’s something else in her voice. Warmth. Maybe even pride. It’s as much of a mystery as everything else about Emily Prentiss. She lifts her glass to her lips without taking her eyes off you.

“Keep this up, and we’ll be sent undercover together more often.”

You raise a brow. “Is that a good thing or a bad thing?”

Her lips twitch, just slightly, and she tilts her head, as if needing to think it through. “Both,” she says.

Her gaze flicks to the possible suspect, then back to you. She leans forward, her face now only inches from yours, and you realize that to everyone else in the room, this probably looks like a casual conversation. But to you, it’s so much more.

“I want you to stay here,” she murmurs, “Watch him. Be yourself. I’ll go to the bar, check in with Morgan. Okay?”

Your heart stumbles at her conspiratorial tone, so full of meaning and trust. You can only nod, unsure if your voice would betray your emotions.

She pulls away slowly, deliberately. Her hand brushes your arm once more, sending goosebumps racing across your skin, lingering far too long. You watch her as she weaves through the crowd, heading straight for the bar.

And you’re certain now, she saw you tonight. Not just as a colleague. Not just as an agent. As a person, unmasked and seen.

And maybe, just maybe, this is only the beginning.

⸻

Later, after the suspect has been caught, an unusual silence settles in the car. No pounding bass, no flashing lights, no glitter. Just the night, the cold, and the knowledge that you’ve brought down a killer. Reality creeps back in, inch by inch.

The SUV engine hums quietly, streetlights flickering across Emily’s face as she focuses on the road ahead.

Too accustomed to the silence, you flinch slightly when she suddenly talks to you, “I was right.”

“About what?” you ask, puzzled, turning toward her.

“You were distracted.” Her voice is teasing, but also soft, so much so that any retort dies on your lips. “Not that it’s a bad thing. Just… interesting.”

She offers the tiniest smile, her fingers tapping the leather steering wheel.

“You’ll have to get used to it,” she murmurs, as if the thought pleases her more than se lets on.

And now you’re completely lost. Get used to what? Her? These cryptic little remarks that keep you thinking for days? Maybe. Maybe you want to get used to them.

“Used to what, exactly, Prentiss? Stop being cryptic,” you press, not wanting to be left in the dark. But you know, with Emily, you’ll never be entirely sure when she’s teasing you and when she means something more.

“To working with me,” she says with a shrug, but you don’t miss the way her lips twitch again, or how her eyes soften for just a moment when they land on you.

You’ll have to get used to it, she said. She doesn‘t know that you want to. Because whatever this was tonight, you want more of it. More of her.

[messylxve]

bewitched | aaron hotchner x reader

contains: little angst, lotta fluff; bad date; hints at stalking (barely); idiots in love; laufey inspired fic

credit to @enchanthings-a for border

You sat alone on the cold wet bench outside of the restaurant you were supposed to be eating in and all you could do was pull your thin sweater tighter around you. You could hear chattering from inside, taunting and reminding you of your embarrassment. 

Around you, the city continued on with indifference; cars moving by and momentarily illuminating you before forgetting you ever existed. 

Your phone sat in your lap, the last four messages you sent to your date left read, but unanswered. 

Penelope set you up with him, claiming how he was exactly your type: the rugged, brooding, yet charming bad boy. You didn’t have the heart to tell her that wasn’t your type, but you also weren’t in a place to complain. 

So you got excited. Obsessed over what clothes you’d wear, anticipated the conversation that would come, imagined what it would look like dating this guy and the image of him you crafted in your head. 

A dry laugh escaped you at the thought as you threw your head back to blink away the tears. You could only imagine how you looked to the passerbys. 

But somewhere between the cars passing by and the muted chatting from the restaurant, you thought you were hallucinating the sound of a familiar someone calling your name. 

Maybe he was summoned by a strange twist of fate or even a cruel prank played by the universe to amplify your embarrassment, but seeing Hotch, ever put together in his suit and tie while you looked like a hot mess only made you pray a black hole would swallow you on the spot. 

“Hotch!” Your voice naturally pitched itself up and you attempted to wipe away your tears. “What are you doing here?” 

For a profiler you were a terrible actor. 

“I should ask you the same thing.” In a swift movement, he shrugged his jacket off and placed it on your shoulders, sitting next to you on the cold wet bench.

His touch was warm, the back of his fingers trailing across your arm so gently. It burned an imprint in your skin, but as soon as you got used to the feeling of his touch, he pulled away and adjusted his jacket over your shoulders. 

Your eyes lingered on his hands, watching the way they clenched shut. Only for a second. 

“Aren’t you supposed to be on a date?” 

You looked up at him, startled for just a moment before you masked teasing smile over it. “Why are you so curious about my whereabouts Aaron.” 

You’ve called him Aaron so many times before. Late hours, long after everyone had gone home, a chair pulled up to his desk so the two of you would be side by side, bumping shoulders, making jokes. But something in the way you called his name this time and the way he didn’t smile, only stared through your facade, made your heart stutter. 

His response came with an air of hesitation, as if he was measuring, picking and choosing his words before he spoke them. “Because I care about you. And I’m allowed to be worried about you. Especially when I’m driving by and see you alone at night.”

Silence struck you, leaving you unsure of what words to muster up. 

“You don’t have to tell me, but at least let me take y–,” 

“He stood me up,” you let out a watery laugh, one attempting to cover up every other emotion that rushed forward with the burning embarrassment in your chest. “I didn’t even wanna go but Penelope insisted. Then I was stupid enough to get excited and god I just feel so dumb.” 

You hated looking and feeling like this in front of him. You wiped each tear as quickly as they came, but they still fell. 

“Here.” He handed you a tissue, his voice only a whisper on the cold night air.  “Did you drive here yourself?” 

You took the tissue from his hands with a sniff, doing your best to wipe your face clear of tears. “Penelope dropped me off. I guess she assumed he’d take me home or whatever.” 

Hotch sat in silence, thinking. You could see the gears turning in his head. Not in the ways he would when solving a case, trying to get into the head of an unsub. His expression was lighter this time, his brows no longer downturned and furrowed. Even his eyes seemed to be painted a lighter shade of brown. 

“Can I drive you home?” 

There were many truths you could state about Aaron Hotchner. How he has the brownest of eyes or how he has such an expressive face when he allows it, or just that he cares so much about each of his team members. But nothing could have prepared you for the way he pleaded with his eyes without even knowing it. He’d never force you to say yes to anything, so all he could do was hope, but the hope in his eyes was enough to make you go weak in the knees. 

“...yeah.” 

You watched as he rose from the bench and extended his hand to you, making you scoff out an amused laugh. 

“Don’t leave me hanging,” he smiled, shaking his hand for you to grab. With a smile and a roll of your eyes, you let your hand slip into his and let him walk you to his car. 

The car ride was quiet at first. Your eyes were closed, listening to the sound of the radio softly humming in the background and the cars passing by. When the car stopped and you felt the red glow of the streetlight glowing over you, you let your glance shift open to Aaron. 

But his eyes were already on you. 

In a moment of instincts he looked away, but like a force drawing him back, his eyes met yours again. 

“For what it's worth, you look beautiful tonight.” 

You felt your heart again, stumbling stupidly in your chest as he looked at you with this emotion in his eyes you weren’t confident enough to pinpoint. 

A small piece of you knew the truth hidden in his eyes, the part of you that could profile a disorganized serial killer with just a background and a few glances. But the bigger part of you, the part that cried on a bench after being stood up on a date, folded it away and shoved it under the rug. In fear and self-preservation. 

“You don’t look too bad yourself, Aaron.” 

You saw the green of the street light stretch across Aaron’s face before he could find some response to rival yours. With a half smile, he drove on, missing the turn to your apartment. 

“You went the wrong way,” you pointed, looking back to the street you were supposed to be on. 

“I know,” he smiled. “There’s a stop I wanted to make if that’s okay.” 

“Yeah no, that’s fine.” 

It wasn’t too far from your place, but eventually he pulled into the parking lot of a diner you’d never seen before. 

“You like burgers right?” 

Your lips parted as you looked over to him in disbelief. “Hotch–,” 

“Aaron. Don’t get formal with me now.” 

“Aaron, you don’t need to do all this for me.” 

“You were promised dinner.” His voice was light, a gentle smile on his lips. “It’d be rude if I dropped you off hungry.”

You watched as he stepped out of the car and made his way to your side, opening your door. Once more he offered a hand to you and once more, you accepted it with a laugh and a smile. 

“Wait wait wait, you’re telling me that you, Aaron Hotchner, was once a leather jacket wearing, rule breaking bad boy?” 

Aaron could only laugh coyly as you pointed at him with a french fry and a never ending flow of laughter. 

“It was a rebellious phase,” he chuckled, his cheeks tinged with a subtle hue of embarrassment on his cheeks. “Performative if anything.” 

You squinted at him, barely able to hide the amusement on your lips. “Is that what you tell yourself?” 

You watched as his smile grew bigger, tilting his head at you. “You’re really funny.” 

A broad smile, reading smile adorned your lips. “I know.”

The diner was mostly quiet save for the few chattering at their own individual booths including you and Aaron. It was small and cozy, something you hadn’t expected from him, but sitting in front of him now, seeing him with his rare laugh that only few got to see, you felt safe; a warm feeling spreading through your chest, like a cup of tea on a cold evening. 

Just like Aaron’s laugh, the feeling was rare, but wholly welcomed. 

“Here’s your check.” An older woman smiled warmly at the two of you before placing down a milkshake with two straws. “Milkshake’s on the house. For the lovely couple.” 

“Oh we’re not–” But she was already gone. 

The two of you stared at the milkshake in front of you. Vanilla. 

“Well that's just,” you trailed off, unsure of what to say.  

“Yeah.” Hotch was left just as speechless as you. 

“Well…” you sighed deeply and smiled. “Perfectly good milkshake. S’not like it’ll kill us right?” 

The two of you were adults. You could have taken turns on who takes a sip so no space was invaded but somehow, both of your brains short-circuited as the two of you leaned in, taking a sip at the same time. 

It only lasted but a moment, but every inch of you lingered in his touch. 

His knuckles brushed against yours where you both grasped your own straws; a match meeting the striker of a matchbox. 

Your foreheads bumping softly together; the match striking against the box.

Your knees touch, bumping each other in the same way your shoulders would in those late office hours; spark flying between the match and the box. 

Eyes meet, his brows dipping down and yours pinching in as you each get lost in the unspoken. But you look away, you tuck your foot in, and you sit back in your chair. 

A match won’t always light when stricken. 

You missed the disappointment in his eyes when you pulled away

“You never told me,” you coughed, pulling Aaron’s suit coat closer to your chest absentmindedly. “What were you doing in the area anyways? You live on the other side of town.” 

“I–hm…I was–” It was strange seeing the usually stern and sure man, stammering at a single question. “Garcia might have let it slip where you were supposed to be.” 

An amused smile slipped onto your lips once more, the tension of the moment fizzing out as quickly as it came. “So you were looking for me,” you grinned. “You told me you just happened to find me.” 

Aaron looked away, his own coy smile sneaking his way on his expression. “Okay, maybe I overstepped a line…or two. Like I said, I care about you and I was worried. That doesn’t excuse me go–,” 

“Aaron Aaron, slow down.” You watched as he looked up at you with those brown eyes you’ve grown so accustomed to. “I’m grateful you were there. Really. I would probably still be crying on a park bench.” 

Your smile wasn’t broad or teasing as it was before, just one of genuine admiration. 

“Thank you Aaron.” 

“I hope your night didn’t turn out all too terrible.” 

The night was well broken in—hours past since your now-forgotten bad date. The two of you hung outside of your home, leaning on Aaron’s parked car comfortably. 

“With you? Never.” 

You smiled, looking up to him before nudging his shoulder. You still wore his jacket and even with it being many sizes too big, you wore it like it was your own. 

With a shiver and a yawn, you pulled it tighter against you as the wind picked up.

“Should probably turn in.” His hand was already in yours, tangled together somewhere between getting out of the car and now. Neither of you could remember exactly when. 

“No,” you groaned, as he attempted to pull you from the car. “You’re no fun.” 

Aaron grinned as you fell in stride with him, walking along the sidewalk that led to where you lived. “Weren’t you just telling me how a night with me is never bad?” 

“Hmm,” you hummed in thought, stopping in front of a set of stairs that lead to your home. “You said ‘I hope your night didn’t turn out too terrible’,” you mimicked with an exaggeratedly low voice, making him chuckle. “And I said, ‘With you? Never.’ The word ‘bad’ never left my mouth Mr. Hotchner.” 

“That’s the same thing and you know it.” His words were accusing but his smile and playful tone never wavered. 

“Look at the time,” you exclaimed, climbing up the stairs with a newfound speed. “I think it’s about time I turn in, don’t you.” 

Aaron laughed, watching as you backtracked out of the conversation. “I do think so.” 

With a final wave and smile, you grasped the knob of your door before suddenly turning around.

“Aaron!” 

“Yes?” 

His response was quick, his eyes expectant, as if he was waiting for the moment you’d call him back. Your words died on your tongue, lost in the way he stared at you with such intensity. Just like before, he was pleading with just his eyes. They were wide, his brows raised hopefully in your call.

“I, um…I forgot your jacket.” Your movements were slow at first as you shrugged it off, immediately missing the warmth it gave. 

By the time your arm stretched out to hand it back, he was just a step below you, his hand brushing against yours as you handed it to him. Wordlessly, he took the next step up, his full height comparing itself to yours. 

In a moment of pure impulse, he pressed the softest of kisses to your cheek. “Thank you,” he murmured, taking a final step back. “I had fun tonight.” 

You didn’t know where to settle your eyes as he took another step down the stairs. “Me too.” 

You don’t quite remember turning away or putting in the key to get inside. One moment you were there, once more getting lost in all that was unsaid between the two of you, the next your back was pressed against the closed door inside your darkened apartment. 

You couldn’t even tell if you were breathing. All you could feel was the tingling feeling left from where Aaron’s lips touched your cheek. You felt like a teenager all over again, a broad smile spreading over your lips, a burning at your cheeks, and even butterflies in your stomach.

You were by no means an impulsive person. You couldn’t be in your line of work. Nearly everything you did had to be carefully measured in order for everything to work in the way you needed it to. It was rare you led with your heart and followed where your adrenaline guided you. 

It still existed in you though. A very small part that wanted you to follow your immediate impulses. For the first time in a long time you let that small part of you take charge. 

You surged forward and threw open the door, expecting to see him climbing into his car or driving off down the street. 

What you didn’t expect was to see him, standing right at your doorstep, prepared to knock at your door. 

You weren’t sure what you were supposed to say. Maybe some love confession or great reveal to how you truly feel, but it all died when your eyes fell on him. 

But you didn’t need to say a single word. Not to Aaron. Everything you ever wanted to say was spelled clearly in your eyes for him to read. 

Just like you, Aaron was not an impulsive person. But in the rare moment when he’d run into a building without back up or he’d take charge of a case that wasn’t his to investigate, he’d let his gut lead in front of his brain. 

And so he kissed you. 

You could barely process it, it happened so fast. One moment he was standing there, wordlessly. Helplessly. The next moment his hands were on you, both cupping your face carefully as if he was afraid you’d shatter in his hold. 

But you were holding him tightly. One grasping his wrist and the other finding home on his chest. You held him as if you were afraid he’d be ripped out of your hold. 

But he didn’t.

And neither did you. 

It was only you and him and no one else.

taglist!! @whothehellismack @casp1an-sea @gghostwriter

[absurdthirst]

Fucking Fungus {Joel Miller x F!Reader}

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 6k

Warnings: SEX POLLEN, dub con, post apocalyptic world, scavenging, guilt, shame, desire, Joel having a bad attitude, mentions of periods, rough sex, neediness, unprotected sex, cream pie

Comments: Coming across Wymore, NE, you hoped to find some much needed supplies for the coming winter but you find that the fungus has mutated in dangerous and frightening ways. Needing to insure that there are more hosts to infect in a very basic kind of way.

🎊🎉🎊🎉🎊🎉Happy Birthday @storiesofthefandomlovers!!!! I love you and hope you have the best damn day! In thotty tradition, here is a sex pollen to celebrate another year around the sun!🎊🎉🎊🎉🎊🎉

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|| MasterList || Joel Miller MasterList ||

Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings'. You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here.

The world has changed in the past twenty years. None of it for the betterment of humanity. The crunch of the dried leaves grinds under your boots and your head rotates left and then right as you watch, listen. Waiting for any sign of life or more importantly, danger. The weight of your rifle is heavy in your hands, although you hold it down, unassuming but ready to be lifted at a second’s notice. 

“I don’t know why you don’t just hook it over your shoulder.” Ellie snorts, her backpack bouncing slightly on her back from the steps that seem so unencumbered by worry. Why should she worry when there are two fully armed adults on either side of her. Her own personal guard in a manner of speaking. “There hasn’t been anything out here for daaaaaays.” She drags the word out like it's the most horrible thing in the world that it’s been peaceful. 

Joel snorts, rolling his eyes as you glance over at him and then look back out at the surrounding terrain. “Yeah, that’s why we are on guard.” He grunts, even though his own rifle is on his shoulder. His hand gripped the shoulder sling loosely but he had only just put it up there half an hour ago after you had taken your turn relaxing as much as you can. “it’s too fucking quiet.” 

He’s right. After the disasters that had been Kansas City, you had tried to avoid major cities, but even in the small towns, you had come across plenty of cordyceps and clickers. You hate the clickers with a passion.

The isolation can account for a lot of the silence. Miles stretching between remnants of civilization. The crumbling buildings and overgrown roads give the entire midwest a sense of peace. It’s unnerving. 

Your grip adjusts, head rolling around your shoulders slightly to try to loosen the knot that builds up in your shoulders after so long. The weight of your pack isn’t as heavy as it should be, the rations not exactly filling since you had to escape that one clicker in Du Bois, Nebraska. Your pack had been ripped and most of the food you had been carrying was lost. 

You glance over at Joel, noticing the way his shoulders seem to hang, almost a reflection of the way you feel. “We need to risk a larger town.” You murmur quietly, knowing that his first instinct will be to argue with you. You stumble slightly over a rock and hiss when you feel the hole in the sole of your boots. 

“Too dangerous.” Joel snorts, shaking his head even as he watches you regain your footing. “I’ve got some duct tape in my bag.” He reminds you, knowing that you should probably reinforce that shoe before you lose the sole all together. 

“It’s not just shoes.” You protest, trying to ignore the way that Ellie groans obnoxiously loud and stomps her foot. 

“Come on, man!” She throws her own arguments into the ring. “I need tampons! We could find them if there was jack shit out here, but there’s not. Do you want me to attract wild animals?” She presses, glaring at Joel who looks equal parts horrified and unconvinced. She cracks an evil grin. “Circling us in the wild as I just leave behind a trail of blood? Aaaaand tears.” She adds, lifting her brows. “Periods are really emotional things.” 

Biting your lip to keep from snorting, you watch as Joel; normally stoic, no bullshit Joel, can’t seem to string together the words to respond. His eyes slide over to you, almost pleading with you to say something. 

Your brows lift in question and he twitches slightly, his dark eyes unhappy with you not immediately jumping in to save him. “We could use the food if we can find any.” You rationalize, smirking when his brows pinch together and he looks like he had just been betrayed. 

“Clean underwear!” Ellie adds. “Or….cleaner. And a heavier fucking coat.” She shivers slightly and you can see that is the moment when Joel caves. He acts like a prick most of the time, but he’s got a soft spot for the kid. He won’t admit, maybe not even to himself, but he looks over at the faded and nearly rusted out sign. 

You continue walking, not pressing any more and you can hear the grumbling thoughts that are rolling through Joel’s mind. The now half hearted protests about why this is such a bad idea but you wait for the sigh. 

Almost even with the sign is when it comes, heavy and it sounds almost pained. Like he is going against everything he believes in. “Stop.” He huffs, shuffling to pull his bag off his back and kneeling down with a groan and the small pops of fifty plus year old knees. Unzipping the pocket where he keeps the Atlas and flips the worn pages to Nebraska. Glancing back at the road behind you and then at the sign before looking at the map. Tracing the route that you had already traveled before looking ahead at the towns that were on highway 77. 

Ellie doesn’t say a word but she practically bounces on her toes as she waits for his decision. You know that he’s going to agree, it’s just a matter of which town he chooses. He knows the truth of the situation. Winter is going to come quicker than any of you want, your food supply is low, you could probably all use a new set of boots, and all of you would kill for a halfway decent musty mattress to sleep on. Four walls and a hopefully non-leaking roof over your heads would be the icing on the cake. 

“Wymore is coming up in fifty-eight miles.” He taps the map and looks up at you to see what you think. 

Ellie shuffles slightly and instead of grinning, you crane your neck to look at the map yourself. “It looks like it’s bigger than the last few towns, but at least it’s not like we are running into Lincoln.” You hum before you nod. “I say we try.”

“Yessssss!” The teenager pumps her fist in excitement and she grins when Joel rolls his eyes. You’ve noticed that like any normal teenager, her favorite activity is annoying any kind of parental unit and pushing boundaries. This applies to Joel whether or not he likes it. “I want to find another joke book too.” 

Joel groans but you just turn around, grinning yourself as Joel mumbles under his breath, stuffing the map back in his pack and zipping it up. Joel and Ellie are alike in a lot of ways, especially their penchant for mumbling. 

You resist the urge to offer him a hand up, knowing he will be even more pissy if you do. For someone who complains about being older, he gets downright grouchy when he’s reminded of that same fact. “Well then, the quicker we get there, the quicker we don’t have to hear ‘are we there yet?’.” You snort, making Ellie grin shamelessly as she shrugs, knowing she will do exactly that. 

“So let’s get going.” She doesn’t wait for anyone, just setting off down the road and leaving the two of you to catch up with her. 

****

It takes you nearly three days to get to Wymore. All of you are tired, but Joel is the one who barely sleeps, even when you force him to lay down. It’s as if he cannot stop trying to protect Ellie, and also you, long enough for him to rest. He gets upset when he has to sleep, staying up until he is nodding off. The coffee supply has been exhausted and it’s probably a good thing. He would drink it all day to the point where his hands would shake from too much caffeine. Still he just wouldn’t trust you to make sure that no one snuck up on you for a few hours until he was past the point of being useless. 

The first signs of the town are a welcomed relief but it’s also an added source of tension. Each mile that you had traveled had added to the fear that this might be the time that you fail. That something goes wrong and someone else dies. The road here has not been easy and the losses have weighed heavily on all of you. Joel still won’t even mention Tess and you hate it when you wake up in the early morning hours to find him staring down at the broken face of his watch with a look that breaks your heart. 

Every approach into a new area can mean danger, either from the clickers or from humans and honestly you don’t know which one you fear more. Your gun is back in your hand, the weight of it familiar and comforting as you pass the first gas station, the windows busted out and dried fungus clinging to the building. 

“Fuck.” You hiss, uneasy at the presence of the fungal vines, even if they look like they aren’t active.

“I wonder why it looks pink.” Ellie frowns as she squints at the building. “It’s usually an ugly brown color, right?” She looks towards Joel for confirmation, but he’s busy frowning at the building himself. 

“Maybe this isn’t a good idea.” If the cordyceps have spread this far out of town then there’s a possibility there are still active branches closer to the supplies that you are looking for. 

“Come on man.” Ellie groans, kicking a dirt clod. “There’s nothing for miles. It’s probably all dead.” 

You know that Ellie is probably right, but it’s a risk. You bite your lip, looking over at Joel. “Why don’t we sweep the town and we can see?” You ask, knowing that if everything is dead, you could desperately use the rest. Cordyceps rarely return en masse when the vines have withered and died. It could be a safe place to recharge and for Joel to sleep for more than ten minutes at a time. 

You’ve stopped walking as you talk, Joel looking around as he contemplates your alternatives. To be honest, there aren’t many and both of you know it. Not without a lot of backtracking which none of you want to do. 

Joel sighs and you know that he’s going to agree. He turns to Ellie. “Don’t fucking touch anything until we say it’s alright.” He points at her for good measure, as if his finger would impress the importance of his words. “Got it?” 

“Got it.” She huffs. “Jesus, you act like we haven’t done this before.” You roll your eyes and look away, knowing you shouldn’t encourage her right now. 

It takes hours to make your way into the center of town. Not because you are blocked by clickers or avoiding humans, it’s because you are stocking up. It’s like the fungus took over this town and just let it rot. Nothing inside the first few blocks of town is disturbed. No looting has been done here, plenty of supplies to be had. 

Both you and Joel have been cautious but slowly optimistic as you’ve found boots and heavy jackets, gloves and hats. A new pair of clothes have been rolled into everyone’s bags and you’ve even grabbed another pack to fill with the mylar sealed packs of camping food from the sporting goods store. It was a miracle that nothing had been ransacked, but it makes you wonder exactly what the fuck happened here. Did the army sweep through and round up all the residents right away? It would make sense, but then why were there dead spores of the fungus here? You haven’t seen one body so far and it makes you nervous. 

“This place is a fucking gold mine.” Ellie grins like a kid in a candy store, perhaps because you’ve actually found candy and she has been sucking on the jolly ranchers until the top of her mouth is raw. “Now we just need to find a place to sleep. I want my own room.” 

Glancing over at Joel, you expect him to immediately tell her no, but he doesn’t say a word. Continuing to look around like he is expecting a clicker to pop out from the doorway of the local McDonald’s, now completely covered in that strange pink fungus. It’s like he doesn’t even hear her as he frowns at the building. 

She takes that as approval and immediately starts talking about how she’s going to spread out. Making you snort when she talks about sitting in her underwear for an hour. There hasn’t been a lot of privacy out here on the road, so you can understand that desire. 

“Joel.” You murmur his name softly, knowing that the best thing you can do is to find the motel and get settled down for the night before the sun sets. Even if this town is as safe as it appears on the surface, you would rather not be fumbling around in the dark . He doesn’t look over at you, still staring at the overgrown building as if it’s holding the secret. Maybe it reminds him of the Boston Museum, ominously covered with the tentacles of the fungus and the horrors that you had found inside it. “Joel!”

“What?” His head whips around, body tense as he’s ripped out of his thoughts. Relaxing when he finds you and Ellie staring at him. “We need to find the motel.” You remind him, nodding towards the sun getting lower in the sky. “I think we could all use a good night’s sleep.” 

He stares at you for a moment, his eyes searing your face, looking for some hidden meaning beneath your words before he glances over at an eager Ellie. “Yeah, sure.” He agrees, adjusting his rifle to sling it onto his shoulder and adjusts his now much heavier pack on his back. “Probably on the other side of the main drag.” 

His new boots thump against the cracked pavement. The roads leading deeper into the town is the guide towards what will hopefully be a comfortable bed and at least eight hours of sleep. 

Your own new boots feel pretty good, but maybe a day or so here, going through supplies and really making sure that you can take on the coming winter would be a good thing. Allowing you to break in the shoes without blisters. You’ll have to talk about it with Joel after Ellie sequesters herself for the night. 

It’s about another fifteen minutes before you get to the small motel that looks like it will be a good place to spend the night. Half the building is covered in another large cluster of the fungus, the pink hue looking particularly bright in the fading sun. 

“We’ll get some keys.” It will be better than breaking down doors, especially since the motel wasn’t equipped with the keycards that the high end hotels had started switching to before society came crashing down. 

The bad news is that the motel doesn’t have any adjoining rooms, so Joel and Ellie get into a small spat about her having her own room, Ellie eventually winning after promising that she will block the door with a dresser and he’s allowed to sweep the room before she locks herself in. Half the building is so overtaken by the vivid pink fungus that you swear looks like a big splat of bubblegum thrown over the walls. 

She doesn’t even want to have dinner with you and Joel, making the man go through the room and then telling you both goodnight and shutting the door in your face. Making you laugh as Joel frowns at the door, rethinking this entire situation. 

“Well, you can have a room to yourself too.” You offer, smirking as he cuts his eyes towards you. You know that Joel would rather everyone sleep where he can keep his eyes on them, so you getting privacy is off the table. 

“Shut up.” Joel grunts, walking down towards the next room and kicking it open, watchful even though you’ve both already been in the room and deposited your bags. It’s a nice room, two double beds so each one of you can stretch out and relax. 

You laugh quietly and decide to walk down the railing towards the portion of the building that has been overtaken by the fungus. Your curiosity about this variant is finally getting the best of you and you want to get a better look at it. 

It’s thick. The tendril that is draped over the metal railing of the second floor, wrapping around it and up the support column. You bite your lip, tilting your head when you see the withered remnants of some kind of flower. What kind of fungus sprouts flowers?

You jump when something touches your back, whirling around to find Joel behind you, holding his hands up. He smirks at you, his eyes crinkling in amusement. “Fuck you.” You hiss, narrowing your eyes and he huffs. “What are you doing?” He asks. 

Turning back towards the fungus, you sigh. “This is different from any other kind I’ve ever seen.” You comment, stepping closer to it only to feel Joel reach for your arm to pull you back. “It’s dried out.” You remind him, jerking your head towards the husk of the cordyceps. “Have you ever seen anything like this?” You know that he spent a lot of time sneaking out of the Boston QZ, it’s possible he had seen it before. 

He grunts, relaxing his hold on you and he shuffles slightly closer, looking at the flower buds that extend from the tendrils. His own suspicions about anything fungus related is deep, but it’s dried. “I haven’t.” He admits after a moment, narrowing his eyes slightly and trying to think if there is any reason why this pink coloring has the hair on the back of his neck standing on end. 

“So it’s something new.” You bite your lip and lean in, feeling the disapproval radiate off of Joel in hot waves but you ignore him. Tilting your head and reaching out to touch one of the dried flowers. 

“Don’t-”

The second your finger touches the wilted bloom, it bursts open, spurting you and Joel behind you in a cloud of pink dust. You gasp, holding your breath but there’s no hope for not inhaling the pollen. 

“Fuck!” Joel coughs, shaking his head and backing up so quickly he hits the side of the building and reaches out to drag you away from the lingering cloud of dust and starts to practically beat it off the two of you. “We need- we need-” He leans over and starts coughing, obviously having inhaled just as much of it as you had. 

“We’re okay.” You gasp, shaking your head and brushing the dust off your clothes. “We- it’s dead. Right?” You hate that you are asking that, but you hadn’t expected that from a dried out fungus.

“It- we should clean up.” Joel blinks, the pollen making his eyes itch and that has to be the cause of the rush of heat that slides over him. It’s just adrenaline. Fear. Anything that would scare both of you would make the slight nip in the air disappear and make you feel like your skin is superheated.

The water is gravity fed. The large cisterns on the roof are still full and while it’s not warm, perhaps a cold shower might be better right now. Joel drags you both to the room and locks the door, although he doesn’t push a dresser in front of it in case Ellie needs you in the night. 

In the bathroom, you are shaking as you start to strip down, worrying about how stupid you just were and if you completely fucked yourself. The anxious fear covering the way your skin seems to burn and feel so sensitive to everything. Shuddering when your hand brushes over your thigh as you push your jeans down and kick them off before you pull your shirt over your head and remove your bra. 

Clean up. Get the pollen off your skin and cool down. Your body seems to be working on overdrive. Your nipple hard under the cold water and instead of gasping in shock, you moan softly. Enjoying the sensation and reaching for the bar of soap that is still wrapped in plastic. 

Hurry up, hurry up. Joel paces around the room, his hands curled into fists. Practically sweating even though the air is cool as the sun sets. His body feels like it’s on fire, like he is battling a sickness. 

Over and over again, he goes through the symptoms of the infection of the cordyceps, there’s no veining, he’s stopped and checked his eyes and reflection in the peeling mirror about twenty times in the five minutes you’ve been in the bathroom. And he doesn’t fucking think the fungus makes his cock harder than a fucking rock in his jeans. 

He’s not thought about sex in months. Nothing beyond fleeting moments of attraction to you that he swiftly buries under guilt and responsibility. Normally, it is when you’re bent over and your ass is presented to him in such a way that he thinks about sinking into you from behind, or when your shirt pulls tight over your breasts and he imagines cupping them in his hands as you sit on his cock. Immediately dismissed and ignored as he reminds himself of how he had failed Tess, he doesn’t deserve to find warmth and comfort in your arms. 

Now, it’s all he can think about. The urge to palm his cock makes his fingers twitch and he almost moves his hand over his crotch before he flinches back to reality and tries to examine his face in the mirror again, wondering if his eyes are bloodshot from lack of sleep or if he is infected. 

Scrubbing your body is nearly painful, wanting to stop and touch yourself, but you can’t. You need to get this done and get out so Joel can shower. Still, despite the cold water, you feel like you are on fire when you shut off the water and realize that you didn’t bring your bag into the bathroom. You will have to go out there in nothing because you can’t put those clothes back on. Not until they have been washed. 

Moderately dry, you hear Joel bang on the door. “Hurry up.” He growls, making you clench your thighs together at the raspy tone and hating how it spears through you. You know Joel isn’t interested in you, hasn’t ever looked at you like that and the crush that you had on the man had been buried deep. 

“I’m done.” You don’t have a chance to be embarrassed as you open the door and Joel practically shoves past you into the bathroom and slams it behind him. “Fuck.” Your annoyance cools the heat for a moment, but it’s only temporary. 

The water is icy, but still, Joel curls his hands into fists against the shower wall. He’s fucking hard. Harder than he had probably ever been in his entire life, even when he was a horny teenager and would have fucked anyone who let him between their thighs. He’s not felt like this ever. The need to touch himself builds to the point where his hips are rocking into thin air against the spray of the water. Want clawing up his throat and pooling in his stomach in a heavy knot. 

You don’t dress, you can’t. Crawling under the covers of one of the beds, you listen to Joel groan in the bathroom, it’s muted over the sound of the shower but it’s sexy. All of his sounds are sexy, from the low grunts he gives when he’s stiff and sore, to the huffs and groans of annoyance. It’s all sexy to you. The rasp of his voice when he’s not spoken for a few hours. 

Closing your eyes, it’s easy to give in, to let your hands drift over your skin. He’s not here, you can take care of this frantic need that is swirling inside you. You just need to slide your hand between your thighs and ease it. It wouldn’t take much more than a few swipes of your fingers against your pulsing and aching clit. 

Trying to fight it, you concentrate on your breathing, in and out. Inhaling slowly and holding it so you can exhale when the burn in your lungs tells you that you’ve reached your limit. It helps, but not much. Not when you’re imagining Joel in his shower. Touching him. Being free to touch him and having his hands on your body in return. 

Your hands slip over your breasts, squeezing them hard enough to moan softly and your legs shift to press together. Clenching around nothing and wishing that you were full while your hands start to move down over your stomach. 

The first touch is almost a relief, your entire core quivering as your fingers press against your clit. It’s overwhelming and not enough. You need more, fingertips pressing and rubbing around the puffed up bundle of nerves. You’re already soaked and can feel it dripping down your slit. 

Spurred on by that insatiable need, you slide your fingers around your entrance and start to press them inside. Biting your lip to keep yourself from moaning. Imagining that it’s more, that it’s a cock that is starting to break you open and fill that void that is aching. 

You are so caught up in the bliss of that first stretch of your fingers that you don’t hear the shower turn off. The quiet curses coming from the bathroom are muffled by the rush of blood in your ears, the feeling of relief coursing through your nerves and taking over. You don’t hear the click of the lock and the turn of the handle. The door opening doesn't even register as you plant your heels on the bed and push your hips up, needing to get your fingers deeper, not quite reaching the spot inside you that craves fullness. 

You don’t hear him until he chokes out a sound that is pained and low, like he’s injured. Your eyes pop open as you lurch up off the bed, your fingers ripping themselves out of your cunt hard enough to make you whimper. Fixed on Joel’s towel draped body, tented over his waist. 

“Joel, I-” “Fuuuuuck.” He growls, his eyes closing and his hands bunches into fists, one holding his towel and the other by his side. “I’ve tried to not think about you, about touching you.” His words are rasped out, strained against his vocal cords. “I’ve goddamn beat into my brain that you aren’t to be thought about this way and now, I can’t stop.” His stomach clenches and his body twitches as he struggles to keep still. 

Your chest heaves and you see his eyes drop down to your uncovered tits. His jaw clenching and his Adam’s Apple bobbing as he swallows. “I - I need to touch myself.” You admit breathlessly. “I - it hurts so bad and I need something inside me.” 

Joel groans again, shuddering so violently that you can see him shake from where you are. “I’ve jerked off in the shower twice and it's still hard.” He drops the towel, revealing his hard and leaking cock, making you whimper at the sight and clench around nothing. “I think that- that we- that the flower-” “I don’t care.” You moan, shaking your head and crawling to your knees and shuffling forward. Showing him all of you and so goddamn desperate to touch him that you think you are about to explode. “Touch me, Joel. Fuck, touch me, please.” You beg, your hands on your own body. “We-” He shakes his head and his face changes, morphs into pain.

“Fuck me.” You hiss, watching as his resolve breaks. His cock bounces as he lunges for you, hard and swift, driving you back to the bed with a bounce. Almost as if he is attacking you. 

He’s not gentle. His mouth finding yours in a harsh kiss, your permission unleashing the coils of restraint that he had tried to put on himself. His grip bruises as he hauls you up the bed and settles between your thighs. 

You’ve always attributed Joel with rough gentleness. The type of man who would make you ache and then hold you close. Groaning in pleasure when you find out that is exactly what Joel Miller is like. His hands spreading your thighs with a desperation that proves he is just as afflicted by this fungal pollen as you are. His cock hard and pressing against your folds as he rocks his hips forward to line up. Almost unable to find the hole with his eagerness to sink into you. 

“Joel, hurry.” Your hands shake, holding onto him and urging him closer to you, frantic with need now that you know that you are going to have him inside you. 

“Goddamn, I’m trying.” He hisses, hating to let you go so he can take his cock in hand. Rocking into his own grip as he shuttles his hips forward. “I’m fuckin’ trying, sweetheart.” 

You whimper when you finally feel him pressing against your entrance, choking out a sound of need that is animalistic. Only to cry out in bliss as he pushes inside you without another delay. 

He groans, eyes cinched shut as he slides inside you to the hilt, burying himself in your heat and feeling that coil in his stomach tighten even more now that your walls are around him. Immediately starting to move just as soon as he fills you, driving by that need and burning in his very veins. 

It’s exquisite, the pain and pleasure blending and fusing in your stomach, nerves alight and responding to every small movement. You can’t get enough of him, you need more. Wrapping  your legs around his hips, you rise to meet his harsh thrusts. Clenching down around him every time he hits that spot deep inside you that you couldn’t reach with your fingers. 

He shouldn’t be inside you, he shouldn’t be touching you, but now that he is, he can’t stop. Turning his head, he presses his lips to yours and slides his tongue into your mouth. Needing more. Kissing you like he had imagined a thousand times before. Giving into every urge he has had since the day he met you and repressed before right now. Snapping his hips forward sharply and pulling every groan out of your mouth to swallow down. 

Every thrust makes it better, eases that burning in your core, your cunt slick and squelching every time he drives into you. He absorbs every sound you make, almost greedy for them. His hips jarring as they slam into you. Rocking you both up the bed. 

“Oh god,” breaking away from the kiss, you moan into his ear. Closing your eyes as he pants and puffs while he fucks you. “So deep, so deep, Joel.” Your nails drag down his back, making him hiss in pleasure and pain. 

“Shit.” He groans your name, lost in the rhythm of his thrusts and the building pressure. “You needed this?” He growls, making you clench down around him hard and whimper his name. “Yessss.” You agree, nodding against the pillow. “Needed it so bad.” 

“Fuck, you’re so fucking tight.” He huffs, burying his face against your neck. Continuing to pound into you, and not letting up even though his back is screaming in pain. His body won’t let him do anything but rock his hips. Driven by a need that overrides everything else. 

His words make you burn, making you even more desperate for him. Your hips rock up and legs tightening around his waist even more. Loving how his cock stretches you out and scrubs against every nerve in your cunt. Lighting up your body until you are gasping on the edge of that much needed orgasm. 

Every plunge into your body brings him closer to cumming, desperate to feel that emptiness, that wrung out filling once he has filled you. He shouldn’t cum inside you, he knows that, but he’s not going to be able to stop himself. He can barely pull back enough to rock his hips back into you. 

His arms have banded around you, holding you into place as he fucks you. Deep and primal, as if he is trying to fuse the two of you into one. His cock punches into the depths of your body that you never imagined anyone reaching, but he touches it with ease. Your body pulsing with that need to come apart. 

“So close, I’m so close, baby.” You whine, body starting to tremble underneath him. “So close.” Your nails dig into his shoulder, grounding yourself to him in desperation. “Joel.” 

“I gotcha.” He groans, eyes closed and his breath fanning against your skin. “I’mma take good care of you, sweetheart.” He promises. “You’re gonna cum all over my cock, ain’t cha? Just like you wanted.” 

His words throw you over the edge, that need built up so tight inside you that it busts on the next thrust. Lights careen and collide behind your eyes, bright and beautiful as your whole body ignites into pleasure like you’ve never experienced before. Crying out loudly and soaking  him in a wave of your juices. Cumming harder than you ever have before. 

Joel growls your name, his hips stuttering as you come apart around you. Unable to hold back any longer. He buries himself deep into your hot passage and paints your walls with sticks ropes of his seed. Panting against your lips as he empties himself body and perhaps his very soul into you. 

Both of you pant, relieved and exhausted from the pure exertion of need as you had taken from each other. Joel presses into you, trying to catch his breath, but the fire is still burning low in his belly, his cock still not softening as it twitches inside you. 

“Oh fuck.” You feel that same desire still curling in your stomach, not satisfied by the intensity of the orgasm that you are still coming down from. “Joel-” 

He huffs and shakes his head. “Don’t-” he presses his lips to your again, body screaming as he starts to move again. “Shhhhhh.” 

The need still burns and both of you are still locked in its fiery grip, not yet free from the desire that washed over you from a burst of pollen. 

****

“What the fuck man, open the door!” The thudding on the door finally penetrates the bone deep sleep you had finally fallen into. You don’t know how many time Joel fucked you, or how many times he had spend himself inside you as you blearily open your eyes. 

Joel grunts, slowly opening his own eyes and unwinding himself from the tangled together position that you had passed out in. The knocking on the door keeps on. “Joel!” Your name is also shouted, Ellie starting to sound somewhat panicked when neither one of you is immediately opening the door. 

“Fuck! I’m coming.” He drags the top blanket off the bed and wraps it around his waist before flinging the door opened to blink into the harshness of the sun. “What?” He growls roughly, making Ellie’s eyes blow wide with shock.

“Holy shit, what happened to you?” She demands, pushing into the room and stopping short when she sees you sitting up in the only bed that has been disturbed, the sheet anchored beneath your armpits. “Oh shit, you fucked.” She gasps, turning and shooting Joel an impressed grin. “Way to go, old man, you made a move.” Her grin quickly turns into an expression of mild disgust when she realizes that she’s congratulating you two on having sex. “Uh, I’m gonna go now.” She huffs, wrinkling her nose and pinching it. “It smells in here.” Waving her hand in front of her face, she darts back out the door and Joel just stands there for a moment before he rolls his eyes and goes to shut the door before he thinks better of it. Sticking his head out of the room, he shouts after Ellie. “Stay away from the fucking fungus!” 

You snort, grinning to yourself as your body starts to ache. Fucking fungus indeed. 

[burningembers91]

Birthday Girl - Cho Sang-Woo x Fem!Reader (NSFW)

Follow up piece to:

Biggest Regret

What Makes You Happy

Not Like You

Synopsis: it’s your birthday, but everything about the day reminds you of the man who left you. When he shows up to your party, emotions reach boiling point.

It was your birthday today. You’d always loved your special day, and Cho Sang-Woo had always enjoyed spoiling you when it came around. He remembered your last birthday together; he was up to his neck in debt but he still wanted you to have the best day. He bought you a bouquet of flowers and a necklace from a boutique that you liked. He cooked for you because he couldn’t afford to take you out, and then he made love to you in the bed you’d shared, his tongue tracing circles over your clit as you fell apart for him again and again.

He thought about that day a lot. Thought about how beautiful you’d looked, how sweet you’d sounded as he drew your pleasure from you in shuddering moans. He wondered what you’d be doing today, whether Jason would be taking you out. He hadn’t seen you since you’d kissed him, since he’d rejected you yet again and walked away. It had broken his heart to do it, and for a while he’d seriously wondered what the point was in continuing life. He couldn’t face this world without you; he’d been nothing but a shell for the last two years. You had been everything to him, you still were, and he’d walked away from you.

He’d overheard his mum saying you were planning on going out tonight. She’d seen you around a few times, and couldn’t resist meddling. You were both so unhappy, the light faded from your eyes, and it broke her heart. You and her son were meant to be together, but you were both too stubborn to realise it.

“I heard she’s headed to that bar she likes. What’s it called again? Glow, or something like that?”

Sang-Woo had spent many a night in there with you, drinking cocktails and dancing. He hated dancing, hated it with a fiery burning passion but you made it seem more bearable. When money had been good, he’d buy your friends the most expensive champagne, toasting to you. He’d give anything to be back on that dance floor with you, just one more time.

You weren’t looking forward to your birthday this year. Your meeting with Sang-Woo had broken you, and you’d spent the last few weeks being an absolute bitch. You were a bitch to Jason, a bitch to your friends, and a bitch to your colleagues. He’d rejected you again and it had hurt more than the first time had. You and Jason were constantly fighting, screaming matches that lasted into the early hours of the morning. You weren’t happy with him, but you couldn’t bring yourself to let him go. It was selfish of you, but you were scared to be on your own.

Despite your less than stellar attitude, your friends were determined to take you out. You hadn’t told them about Sang-Woo because you knew exactly what they’d say, but not being able to tell anyone was killing you. They were taking you to Glow, the place you’d used to love so much. But now it held nothing but heartache for you, full of memories of you and Sang-Woo.

But you forced yourself to get ready, applying your makeup while you downed half a bottle of wine. Jason was coming too, persuaded by your friends. He knew the relationship was ending, but like you, he didn’t want to be alone.

You drank more than you should have that night, you and Jason getting into yet another screaming match. Your friends didn’t know what to do, didn’t know how to help. They hadn’t seen you like this since you’d been left at the altar and they didn’t know how to help you.

Sang-Woo was sitting outside the club, a cigarette perched between his lips. He didn’t know why he was here, but it was like his feet automatically guided him to you. He was trying to get up the courage to go in, to see if he could find you. He didn’t know exactly what he’d say, but he couldn’t seem to leave you alone. It was torture, the self-inflicted kind that ripped at his soul, tearing him in two. He’d left you twice, and yet he was unable to stay away.

You stormed out of the front doors, tears streaming down your face. You were so angry, so upset and the fact you couldn’t tell anyone was killing you. You felt like you were about to implode, the weight of your emotions suffocating you. You’d left your friends and you boyfriend staring dumbstruck after you, watching you stagger off the dance floor. The song you always danced to with Sang-Woo had started playing, and that had been the final straw.

He saw you exit the club, saw you tumble down the stone steps. He ran forward, hoisting you to your feet, his eyes full of concern.

“What are you doing here?” You cried, “can’t you just leave me alone?”

“I’m sorry,” he said, holding his hands up in surrender. “I just… my mum told me where you were and I… I couldn’t help myself.” He took in your tear streaked face, your makeup smudged and your hair out of place. Had he done this to you?

“What do you want from me?” You sighed, sitting down on the pavement and reaching up for a drag of his cigarette. You hated smoking, but tonight you just needed something to take the edge off and alcohol alone wasn’t cutting it.

“I want you,” he whispered, “but I’m so scared. I can’t give you what you need. I’ll never be able to own a house, or have nice cars, or even go on vacation. That’s not the kind of person you want to be with.”

“How many times do I have to tell you?” You cried, throwing your hands up in the air. “I don’t care about money, or nice cars, or having a big home. All I ever wanted was you. But you always assumed you had to provide me with this life of luxury. I never wanted that.”

You sat staring at each other, the base from the club reverberating through your chest. Even when you cried, you looked so beautiful, and Sang-Woo couldn’t resist.

His lips were on yours in an instant, his teeth grazing your bottom lip as you clung to each other. You tasted like tequila, your tears soaking his cheeks as your fingers gripped his hair.

“Come home with me,” you whispered. “Please.”

Jason didn’t live with you, and after tonight you were pretty sure your relationship was done. But in that moment, you didn’t care; you only wanted Sang-Woo, and in the safety of your apartment, you didn’t need to hide the desperation you felt for him. You didn’t need to worry about being caught.

You hailed a taxi, your lips on each other as soon as you were seated. You tore his jacket from his shoulders, his hands snaking over your thighs and under your mini dress. He could feel the lace of your underwear against the tips of his fingers, could hear you moaning in his ear as he teased you through the delicate fabric.

It took you an age to open the front door, your fingers fumbling with the codes as Sang-Woo kissed your lips, jawline and neck. You were seeing stars, so overwhelmed by the feel of his skin on yours that you couldn’t concentrate.

Stumbling into your apartment, you began removing his shirt, your fingers shaky as you undid the buttons. You gave up three buttons in, ripping his shirt open instead. He was still toned, his muscles still as taut you remembered. You ran your fingers tips over his skin, tracing each line of toned muscle.

“I’ve missed you,” you whispered, pulling his shirt down over him arms before discarding it in a heap on the floor.

“I’ve missed you too,” his whispered, his arms snaking round your waist, his fingers searching for the zip of your dress. “I’ve missed you so much.”

He removed the chiffon fabric from your body, admiring your curves with awe. You’d somehow become even more beautiful since he’d last seen you naked, your delicate skin so soft to the touch. Your black lace underwear was all that remained, and he could see you tremble as he hooked his forefingers over the top of the fabric, pulling them down.

He sank to his knees before you, his tongue tracing patters through your slick folds. Your hands clung to his hair for support, hooking one knee over his shoulder to grant him better access to your tight, wet core. You were shaking, your moans falling in breathy gasps as he slid his fingers inside of you.

“I need more,” you begged, desperate to feel himself inside of you. His tongue, his fingers weren’t enough. You needed all of him.

Sang-Woo picked you up, making his way to your bed before placing you gently down on the mattress.

“I know you need more.” He soothed, trailing his fingers up the soft skin of your inner thighs. “But I need to show you how much I missed you.”

He buried himself between your thighs, his tongue pressing powerful strokes against your clit. You could hear him moan as he tasted you, could feel his urgency in the way his fingers slid in and out of your tight core. He’d always been able to make you feel pleasure beyond anything you’d ever known. You could feel the fire in your belly burn, could feel the wave of ecstasy building. Your legs shook, your hands grasping your silk sheets as you fell apart for him.

Your moans were fucking heavenly, so loud and unabashed as you shook with the intensity of your orgasm.

“Now you can have all of me,” he growled, pulling his pants off before lining himself up against you.

“I need you to fuck me hard,” you whispered. “Don’t hold back.”

The force with which he entered you was on the precipice of pleasure and pain. He stretched you out so deliciously, your moans swallowed as his mouth met yours. He thrust into you hard and fast, the mattress squeaking as you moved together.

It was like you’d never been apart, your bodies so in sync. His teeth grazed your lower lip, his hands braced against your pillow and headboard as he fucked into you again and again.

He could feel himself about to lose control, the edges of his vision blurring as he neared the edge.

“Fuck,” he groaned, pulling you into him as he spilled himself inside of you. You could feel him tremble through the sheer force of his release, could hear his whimpers of pleasure as he made sure you took every last drop of him.

You stay entwined together on your sheets, your lips against his as you waited for your heart rates to return to normal. Sang-Woo couldn’t believe he’d ever left you, couldn’t believe he’d walked away from the woman who brought him so much pleasure.

“Stay with me,” you whispered, pushing yourself further into his body, your head nestled on his chest.

“Always,” he promised you. “I’ll never leave you again, I swear.”

This thing between was you was messy and imperfect. Sang-Woo had a lot of making up to do, a lot of atoning for his sins that had to be done. The road wouldn’t be easy, but you were worth fighting for.

You were made for each other. He only regretted it had taken him so long to realise that nothing could keep you apart.

[novascharms]

teach please me — tutor!reader x soccer player!rafe

reader's life is meticulously planned, from high school to becoming president of the country—she knows exactly where she's headed and every step to get there. but her airtight plan hits a snag when the principal ropes her into tutoring rafe cameron, the school’s star soccer player, who’s failing algebra and at risk of being benched next season. the team needs him on the field, and reader needs the principal’s glowing recommendation to secure her spot at her dream school. balancing her ambitious goals with rafe’s chaotic charm might just throw her perfectly crafted plan off track.

word count — 2.1 chapter index — prev. chap. — next chap. masterlist

three

sunday, january 19th

rafe shifted in his chair, pencil tapping rhythmically against the edge of your desk. "hey, can you help me with this one?" his voice cut through the quiet of your room, where you'd stretched out on your bed, flipping through your notes.

"mhm, just read it out," you replied without looking up, too comfortable to move.

"nah," he said, leaning back in the chair and tilting his head toward you, "come over here."

you sighed dramatically, rolling off the bed and padding over to where he sat. "fine," you muttered, leaning against your desk. "what's the problem?"

he pointed to a particularly messy equation on the page. "this one. i don’t get it. like, where do you even start?"

you leaned in to look, but suddenly all you could notice was him. he looked good today, better than he usually did and you'd done a pretty good job of not making it noticeable that it was affecting you but the sudden proximity completely took you out of the loop. his hair still slightly damp from practice, the faint scent of soap mixed with something deeper, something earthy and warm that reminded you he’d been sweating just hours ago. it should have been gross. it wasn’t. it was distracting.

his shoulders stretched against his hoodie, his jaw tense as he stared at the paper, and you caught a hint of his cologne lingering underneath it all. god, why did he smell so good? your brain stuttered over itself, a series of fragmented thoughts replacing any coherent explanation you were supposed to give.

"so, do i start by dividing or…?" his voice pulled you back abruptly.

"what?" you blinked, realizing he was looking at you now, an amused expression tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"i said," he repeated slowly, "do i start by dividing?"

you stared at him, blank for a moment before forcing yourself to focus on the equation. "uh, no," you stammered, cursing yourself for losing track. "you..simplify first. combine the terms on the left."

"combine the terms," he echoed, his smirk growing. "got it."

you tried to look anywhere but at him, but he shifted closer, his elbow brushing yours. "you good?" he asked, clearly entertained.

"i’m fine," you lied, straightening up and pointing at the page. "just… d-do..focus. combine the terms and go from there."

he gave a low chuckle but went back to work, leaving you to silently pray he didn’t notice how flustered you were.

you shifted back to your bed, lying on your stomach and propping yourself up with your elbows, but your attention kept drifting to him. the way his hands moved as he flipped through his textbook, the slight smirk tugging at his lips, his hair falling just perfectly into place—it was all too much. rafe seemed to notice your lingering gaze, his smirk widening ever so slightly.

"you’re staring," he teased, his tone light but his eyes sharp, almost daring you to deny it.

"am not," you countered quickly, flipping open your planner to avoid his gaze. your cheeks were warm, and you hated that he could see right through you.

"right," he said, leaning back in his chair and stretching, the movement making his hoodie ride up just enough to expose a sliver of skin. "if you say so."

you groaned internally, forcing yourself to focus on anything else. "so, how do you feel about what we’ve covered so far?" you asked, trying to steer the conversation back to algebra and not his stupidly distracting everything.

"i feel like i’m actually getting it," he said honestly, sitting up straighter. "like, for real. it’s weird, though. i’ve never had someone explain stuff like you do."

"what do you mean?"

"i dunno," he shrugged, looking at you. "it’s just… different. better. like you’re not just repeating what’s in the book, you actually make it make sense. you don’t give up on me when i don’t get it right away."

"well, that’s kind of the job," you replied, your voice softer. "i’m supposed to help you, not give up on you."

"yeah, but you’re not just doing the job," he said, his eyes meeting yours. "you actually want me to understand it."

you swallowed, his words hitting deeper than they should. "of course i do," you mumbled, looking away.

"you’re something else, you know that?" he said suddenly, and when you looked back at him, he was smiling—soft, genuine, and completely disarming.

"don’t try to charm your way out of studying," you said, trying to sound teasing but failing to hide the slight waver in your voice.

"who says i’m trying to get out of studying?" he shot back, his smirk returning. "maybe i just like seeing you flustered."

"flustered?" you repeated, your voice going an octave higher. "i’m not flustered."

"uh-huh," he said, leaning forward, his elbows on the desk. "whatever you say, teach."

"focus, cameron," you said, forcing yourself to look at your planner instead of his stupidly perfect face. "next session, i’m making you do extra problems for wasting time."

"can’t wait," he said, his grin widening

"though you don't really need it..you're learning pretty quickly" you add softly.

rafe’s grin spread slow, lazy, and just cocky enough to send a strange flutter through your chest. “well, i’ve got this tutor who explains things better than any teacher ever has. plus, she’s patient and never complains when i need her to go over something twice.”

your eyebrow lifted, a smile tugging at the corner of your lips. “or, in your case, thrice.”

“is that a real word?”

“thrice..? yes, of course.”

he leaned forward a little, his elbow brushing the edge of the table. “okay, so… i once had this drunk argument with two of my friends where we all ganged up on one of them, swearing it wasn’t a word. i think i owe him a beer now.”

you laughed softly, shaking your head. “mm, that sounds like my kind of party. i love proving people wrong.”

“and you’re good at it,” he said, voice dropping slightly.

your gaze flicked to him, surprised by the weight of his tone. “how do you know?”

“cause you’re good at everything.” he replied smoothly.

you rolled your eyes, a small laugh escaping despite yourself. “everything’s a bit much, don’t you think?”

“not really,” he said, his voice dipping. “i’ve only known you for, what? two weeks? and you’ve already made me smarter than i was four months ago. you’re… impressive, hard-working, disciplined. honestly, i think my coach would exchange me for you if he had the chance.”

you laughed at the mere idea of you kicking a ball. it would be a safety hazard for everyone involved. “there’s plenty of stuff i’m not good at, trust me. my parents just drilled it into me that there’s nothing you can’t learn with enough time, effort, and training. same goes for you, you know. i’m not some genius or anything.”

he ran a hand through his hair, his expression softening. “i guess i’ve always been good at soccer. and once everyone realized that, it was kind of decided. i was the soccer guy. but i do love it.”

“you can love soccer and still be good at other things,” you said, tilting your head. “like algebra.”

he groaned, letting his head drop dramatically onto the desk. “algebra and i have a toxic relationship.”

“at least algebra can’t give you a concussion,” you teased lightly.

his head shot up, a grin tugging at his lips. “you kidding? have you seen the size of this book?”

you laughed, shaking your head. “okay, fair point.”

he leaned back in his chair, arms crossing as he studied you. “i’m gonna be honest with you.”

you set your pencil down, mirroring his posture. “okay, shoot.”

“i never even tried to study for algebra before this. didn’t think i could get it, so i just… didn’t bother. the book’s basically brand new. well, except for day one. i opened it then.”

your jaw dropped, and you sat up straighter. “rafe! are you serious? you have to at least try. even if you think you’ll mess it up.”

“yeah, yeah, i know that now,” he said, a sheepish grin tugging at his lips.

you sighed, though your expression softened. “honestly, i’m giving you credit for pulling a 2.5 without even trying. that’s… not terrible.”

his face lit up. “see? that’s what i’ve been saying! thank you.”

you smirked, shaking your head. “don’t let it go to your head. no more slacking, though. i think you can do way better. in fact, i know you can. and i’ll help you get there.”

his smile shifted, quieter, sincere. “yeah, i know you will.”

"and you'll get your glowing recommendation." rafe says and you couldn't even believe you'd almost forgotten about that part of the deal.

"and it better actually glow." you added as you closed your planner. rafe chuckled, "you know you've got principal oakley by the balls?" he says and you gasp at his language. "don't say something like that!"

he laughs, sinking into his chair. "the way you hold yourself around him? the way you walk around the office like you own the place?" he's still grinning and you sit up, trying to think back to that day. were you actually that bad? "you were essentially bossing him around. it was so fucking se—" rafe stops in his sentences and you frown at his abrupt pause. "sick..it was really sick. i think he and i were both at a loss for words."

you agree that they did say a lot less than you did but that tended to happen whenever you were in a room. you could just get so carried away and end up talking people's heads off. you had a lot of thoughts that refused to stay inside of your head like ever.

"i guess it's just..very important to me. his recommendation will make me stand out. it's only the beginning of my 30 year plan. he cannot mess this up." you sigh throwing yourself back onto your bed, stomach twisting at the thought of a less than perfect letter being sent.

"tell me about your thirty year plan." and that, that was something no one ever asked. they asked why and feigned interest for a second but no one ever really asked you to talk about it.

you sit up turning to him, "really?" you ask, a little stunned and he nods and moves to your bed to look at your planner. you'd had it since you were ten, always adding things whenever your mind went places too far to see in the near future. it was your whole life, literally. a little battered but loved nonetheless. you weren't joking when you said you would run into a burning house for this book.

and rafe looks sincere when he urges you to tell him about it again so you start and you talk and talk and talk and you don't stop until almost an hour later and realise a couple of things at the same time.

rafe sat there and not only did he listen attentively, he asked questions and constantly assured you that he was listening.

he'd moved from your desk to your bed, lying on it like he owned, pillow rested under his neck whilst you sat cris crossed by his side, close enough for your knee to knock against his side a couple of times.

you were extremely late for your community service at the retirement home.

"wait, wait.." you glanced out your window to see the sky looking darker than it should. rafe looks at you in confusion, rasps out the softest, "what?" that almost stops you in your track but you keep going and reach for your phone. your eyes widen when you see the time. "oh, no, no. i'm late.." you groan jumping out of bed and pulling your knit jumper over your head.

"late..? time s'it?" he asks and when you say seven pm, his brows raise in surprise. time had gone by so insanely fast. you had blinked and an hour and a half passed.

as you hurriedly grab your bag, rafe grabs his book off the desk, "come, i'll drive you." he offers and you're shaking your head but he's already grabbed your wrist and is dragging you down the stairs. "rafe, you don't even know where i'm going. it's okay." you try but he's pulling on his shoes and essentially ignoring you. you don't like it. you stop in your tracks and he looks at you after a beat. "y/n, put your feet in those little flats and let's go."

you blink at the demand, surprised with his tone but find yourself putting your flats on without another word and then he's driving you to the retirement home.

chapter index — prev. chap. — next chap. masterlist

[heartzfromel]

Anges is a detective and must work with his ex?Reader must make a suspect speak and play a little of his charm Agatha sees red (happy ending)

i love you, i’m sorry

detective!agnes x fem!ex wife!reader

tags; agnes and reader kinda hate each other, touchy agnes, possessive agnes, arguing, rio being nosy, making out, drinking, jealous agnes, idiots in love, happy ending, reader teasing agnes, detective reader

“oh, and agnes?” the chief of westview’s police department spoke, propped up against the detective’s office doorframe.

“uh-huh?” she replied, not fully paying attention as she flicked through her case file for what seemed to be the eight hundredth time today.

“since the murders have been happening in both westview and eastview they wanted to bring someone from eastview over to assist with your investigation.” he explained, almost carefully.

“yeah, fine, whatever.” agnes answered, expecting him to leave, but the chief made no effort to move.

“something wrong, chief?” she asked, confusion and irritation lacing her tone, she really wanted to get back to her work.

“not exactly, i’m just not too sure you’re going to be too happy with who’s been sent over.”

“and why would that be?” anges pressed, shifting in her seat.

“well, it’s just, she’s-“ the chief began, struggling to find the words.

“right here.” you smirked, clicking your tongue as you finished his sentence for him.

the chief left the room instantly, and you kicked the door closed behind you, making your way over to the woman in front of you.

the look on agnes’ face was priceless. her jaw seemed to drop just about as much as her stomach did as she stared at her ex wife for the first time in a year, and she fought with herself to show some form of composure. you wouldn’t be surprised if she got up and started looking for cameras, wondering if vidal was up to her antics again, trying to play some sick joke on her.

“agnes, been a while.” you spoke, maintaining eye contact as you sat yourself onto her desk. as you got comfortable it became painfully obvious that the skirt you had chosen was absolutely the wrong one to wear today. you could’ve sworn it was longer when it was in the wardrobe this morning. agnes’ breath hitched, as she shifted in her seat, leaning back slightly. you bit your lip as you watched her eyes trail down you, and then all of a sudden she seemed to realise what she was doing, and her eyes were on yours once again.

“y/l/n” she answered, dropping eye contact as she attempted pick up her file again, freezing as she accidentally grazed your thigh when she picked it up.

“what has gotten you all worked up, detective?” you teased, smirking as you took the file from her hands, before giving it a read yourself.

“all the fresh blood,” she started, looking back up at you once again, “all the pretty young things like you who think they can control the whole investigation because they did good on one case that, as it just so happens, was a fluke. that’s what’s got me all worked up, detective.” she spoke, as she leaned in closer to you.

“mm, agnes, don’t you worry about me trying to control anything, we both know that’s your area of expertise.” you answered, your noses almost touching.

agnes took a deep breath as she pulled away from you, taking the file into her hands once again. “we’re going out.” she exclaimed abruptly, grabbing her coat and waiting expectantly at the door for you as you hurried to keep up with her. you couldn’t help but smile, as it reminded you of this time last year, where “we’re going out” meant that the two of you would sneak out of work for food or just an hour of time together. you missed that. you missed her.

working with agnes so far had been hell, and you weren’t shy about letting her know. it was either constant bickering or total silence at all times, and she always had to know more than you, because obviously you were stupid and she wasn’t.

you had been working together for a week now. “agnes, can we stop at the gas station on the way back?” you asked, trying to be as civil as possible with her.

“and why would we be doing that?” she replied, fingers tapping on the wheel. you couldn’t help but admire them as she glared at you, expecting an answer. it took you a total of eight seconds to realise you were staring.

“i gotta get my dinner,” you began, “the motel has terrible cooking appliances so i just get what i can from the gas station instead.”

agnes suddenly felt a pang of sympathy go through her. “you’ve been eating gas station food all week in that dusty motel?”

“i mean yeah, its the police department, not the fbi, we don’t have the funds for luxury.” you giggled.

“come over tonight.” agnes blurted out, eyes never leaving you.

“i- what?” you stuttered, her words shocking you.

“i’ll make dinner, i mean.” she rambled, realising the implications of her words, “no one should be eating anything out of that gas station, its disgusting.” she joked.

“okay then.” you answered, smiling a real smile for the first time since you left eastview.

if there was one thing you never forgot about agnes, it was how rancid her cooking tasted when you first started coming over. but that was over five years ago, and you had helped her improve over time. now whatever she made was cooked to perfection and tasted incredible. you couldn’t help but smile as she unlocked her door, urging you inside. it reminded you of when you were hers, you missed it. if only she knew how you still longed for her, how she was the only thing you ever thought about, how whenever you were with other partners you’d imagine it was her, because no one ever made you feel the way she did.

“make yourself at home.” she spoke, you could tell she was nervous. you smiled sadly at her words, sitting on the couch you used to sit on every night, whilst she pattered about the kitchen organising ingredients and acting like you’d never lived there. like she hadn’t had you on the kitchen counter every night, like she didn’t kiss you for the first time at her front door, like you hadn’t slept in that bed with her every night and woke up with her every morning, like she hadn’t proposed to you on the very sofa you were sat on right now.

all the reminiscing seemed to have taken more time than you thought it would, because agnes was now putting two plates on the table, along with a case of beer. “dinner’s up.” she smiled as you sat down.

you watched her eyes widen as you popped open one of the beers and began to drink it. she knew you hated the stuff, but you knew damn well you were going to need it tonight. “thirsty?” she smirked as you practically guzzled the stuff. “mm” was all you could reply with.

you slowly brought the spaghetti that she had made up to your mouth before tasting it. you made a sound of pleasure as you had been hungry for the last two hours, and that did not go unnoticed by agnes, her eyes widened and she shifted around in her seat, before taking a swig of her own beer.

“good?” she asked you, fidgeting with her hands.

“incredible.” you answered, smiling at her.

“learned from the best.” she grinned.

after you had finished up, you both sat on the couch, the tv on for background noise, the pair of you swigging beers. there was now only one left in the case, and both of you were getting tipsy. you don’t remember when it happened, but you were both incredibly close to each other. deciding to test the waters, you rested your head on her shoulder. you felt agnes let out a sigh as she draped her arm around you. you leaned into her, looking up at her face as she looked down at yours. there was a long pause as you both began to realise what was happening.

“agnes.” you whispered.

“yeah?” she answered softly.

“what happened to us?” you asked, the tone of your voice clearly doing something for agnes, whose pupils were now fully dilated.

“i don’t know, honey, i don’t know.” she answered, stroking your hair.

you don’t know how it started happening, but the two of you both began to lean in. your lips brushed together slightly before you hesitated, but agnes didn’t have the ssme self control as you, as she grabbed your face with her hands and pressed her lips against yours, sighing in what seemed to be relief. she started out soft with you, but soon enough she was kissing you hard and rough. her hands slid down to your waist amd before you knew what was happening she had pulled you into her lap. she gripped your waist hard with one hand and dragged the other up your body soft and slow.

she bit your bottom lip harshly, and your mouth opened slightly, her tongue slipping in as she swallowed the moan that left yours. her lips began to trail sown your neck as she bit under your ear, causing a shiver to run up your spine. needing more, you rolled your hips against her.

“agnes, please.” you mumbled against her lips, causing her to let out a loud groan.

“baby, we can’t, you know we can’t.” she whispered, her hands now on your face.

“why not?” you whined.

“because, look at the state of us.” she pressed. she was right, neither of you were in your right minds right now.

“let’s go to bed, hm baby?” she suggested, hands steady on your waist.

“okay, lets go.” you mumbled, as she lifted you from her lap.

not sharing the bed wasn’t even a question, and you were glad. you were glad that she still felt comfortable around you.

“goodnight, y/n.” agnes whispered softly.

“goodnight, agnes.” you replied.

the next morning, you woke up with possibly the worst headache you’d ever had, made worse by your phone alarm blaring in your ear. much to your disappointment, the bed was empty. on the nightstand was a glass of water aspirin, which you took gratefully and got dressed for work. you were glad you always brought extra clothes with you everywhere, or some questions would definitely be raised at work. as you went to get a look at your hair in the mirror, you gasped at the sight of yourself, hurrying to grab your makeup bag in order to cover up the mess agnes had made of your neck. thankfully, you were particularly skilled at that sort of thing, and now no one would be any of the wiser.

when you got downstairs, agnes sat waiting at the kitchen counter.

“took you long enough. we’re gonna be late.” she spoke. you would’ve teased her or made a joke but her tone was telling you she was not happy today, so you just apologised and made your way to the car. she didn’t talk to you for the whole car journey, and didnt even acknowledge you when you got to work.

you were supposed to be interviewing a suspect today, some creep who was particularly into lady cops who fit ypur description, so you weren’t exactly jumping for joy at the thought, but whatever got the job done. you fixed your lipstick and undid a few buttons on your shirt before throwing your hair around, shooting one last glance at agatha, and her colleague, rio vidal, who gave you a reassuring smile, before walking in.

the whole interview, you got to the point with your questions, whilst also acting like a total klutz.

it was going fine, you were flirting with the suspect, landing little touches on his arm and giving him the eyes the whole time. vidal had to hand it to you, you were quite the actress. she smirked to herself as her eyes found agnes, who seemed to be seconds away from running in there and hitting the guy. you had decided to make the mistake on glancing at the glass, your eyes meeting agnes even though you couldn’t see her, and then leaning over the suspect, subtly showing a little chest to get him to talk. that was it, apparently. you heard a loud bang outside, which just so happened you be agnes slamming her hand on the table, before the door jolted open.

“that’s it!” she spat, grabbing onto the collar of your shirt and dragging you out. vidal smirked, raising her eyebrows as you yelled at your ex wife and she just grunted in protest, dragging you into her office, slamming the door behind you.

“agnes, what are you-“ you began, but were quickly interrupted.

“what the hell was that?” she spat, seething as her grip tightened.

“what was what, agnes?” you yelled back at her, confusion painting your features.

“that little stunt you pulled with the suspect.” she replied, looking at you as if you were stupid.

“i’m doing my job agnes.” you answered in shock.

“oh and showing yourself off like some prize is your job now, is it? i’ll tell you, if i checked the protocall for interrogations i doubt i’d find that in there, y/n.” she began, yelling at you by the end of the sentence.

“why do you care so much, agnes?” you yelled back.

“because you’re mine.” she answered, teeth gritted together as she walked you into the door, leaving no space between you as she leaned into you.

“agnes, stop.”

“why? you were begging for it last night.” she mumbled. you knew she was too far gone already, and you had to snap her out of it, but you couldn’t help the noise that escaped your throat at her words.

“agnes.” you spoke, timidly as if not to upset her.

“hm?” she answered, eyes meeting yours as she removed her head from resting on your shoulder.

“stop,” you spoke, voice firm, as you pulled her face into your hands, “we can’t keep doing this.” you whispered, as much as it pained you to do so.

“yes we can.” she answered, leaning into your touch as if she hadn’t had any for years.

“no we can’t.” you told her, as one hand went to her hair, in muscle memory. she put her hands on your waist as she slowly guided you over so she could sit down. you were now standing in between her legs as her hands ran up and down her sides.

“why are you just throwing this away, y/n?” she whined, pulling you onto her lap once again. you couldn’t find it in yourself to protest, she knew you wanted her just as much as she wanted you, she could see right through you.

“i didn’t throw anything away, agnes. you threw everything away when you left me.” you mumbled, shying away from her tough as her hands reached your neck and face. this had seemed to calm her down.

“and it was the worst thing i’ve ever done.” she confessed, avoiding eye contact.

“what?” you whispered, pulling her face so she’d look at you.

“i mean it, y/n. leaving you is my biggest regret. i hate myself for it, and i’m so, so sorry.” she rambled.

“agnes, don’t apologise, work was stressing you out, and we wanted different things, it happens.��

“it shouldn’t have happened to us. i’m so sorry i ignored you, and i’m sorry that the only thing we seemed to do together was fight, and i’m sorry-“

“agnes, stop. it’s in the past now.”

“what i’m trying to say is that i don’t want us to be in the past. i miss you, y/n, every day.” she was looking at you like you were everything she had ever wanted, and you believed her.

“agnes, i-“ you began, but you were quickly cut off.

“last night was the first time i felt truly happy since i left. you know that, right?” she whispered, both hands rubbing your neck.

“agnes…” her name came out strained, as she pressed down slightly.

“please, y/n. one chance.” she begged.

“i promise, baby, i’ll never leave you again, i p-“

you melted at the nickname, and your lips were on hers before she could finish her sentence, leaning back as she repositioned you on her lap, her hands gripping your waist, hard. the kiss was different from the ome from last night, fuelled with more passion and emotion.

“mm, agnes.” you gasped, her swallowing your moan, “i missed you.”

she laughed lightly into the kiss as one hand travelled further down, “i missed you too, baby.”

she was about to get you up onto the table when the door burst open, vidal storming in.

“you happy now, o’connor?” she yelled, not paying attention to anything that was happening.

“you have really got to get your priorities straight, she was doing her job for god’s sake, and- oh my god.” she whispered that last part as she suddenly took in her surroundings, “i am so sorry.” she giggled, leaving the room as quickly as possible. agnes let out a sigh as you giggled into her, arms wrapped around her neck as you placed a peck to her lips.

“lets finish this at home, shall we?” you smiled, as she shook her head, finally letting out a laugh.

[shizuturnspages]

Hello, You can make a yandere Wanderer/Scaramouche , Zhongli, arlecchino, neuvillette? ,Albedo? (creator?), Venti, Mavuika and Ei meet a reader who is almost identical to the person who died long ago (such as Venti's best friend, Ei's sister and the Salt Goddess etc) . The reader is identical, but not exactly identical, like the color of the hair and eyes. Thank you, your reading is great!

Echoes of the Past

Synopsis: You are not them. But it does not matter. Because now, you are theirs. Pairings: [Separate] Yandere Wanderer, Zhongli, Arlecchino, Neuvillette, Albedo, Venti, Mavuika, & Ei x Reader who Resembles Their Lost One

Wanderer / Scaramouche – The Puppet’s Haunting Past

At first, he thinks it’s a cruel joke.

A twisted trick played by fate to torment him further.

When he sees you in the marketplace, his heart stops.

He sees the familiar tilt of your head, the same way Niwa used to look at the world—with curiosity, with kindness. But that’s impossible.

Niwa is gone.

Wanderer is frozen in place, hands clenched at his sides, watching as you move through the crowd, unaware of his piercing gaze.

And then—

"Tch." His voice is sharp, bitter, filled with something he refuses to name. "This is ridiculous."

But he follows you.

He does not know why.

Only that he must.

And when you finally turn, eyes locking with his, he feels something inside him snap.

You are not Niwa.

But that does not matter.

Because now, you belong to him.

Zhongli – The Remnants of a Shattered Past

He drops his teacup.

Porcelain shatters against the ground, but he does not move to pick it up.

He is staring.

For the first time in centuries, Zhongli feels as if he has forgotten how to breathe.

Guizhong.

He can see her in you—not entirely, but enough. The way your lips curve into a soft, thoughtful smile, the way you tilt your head in curiosity. It is too much.

Rationality tells him that you are not her. That you could not possibly be her.

But reason means nothing when confronted with a past that refuses to stay buried.

He approaches you, voice smooth but laced with something almost desperate.

"Forgive me," he murmurs, watching your every movement. "But you remind me of someone very dear to me."

He does not say that he intends to keep you.

But he will.

And he will never let you leave.

Arlecchino – The Flame That Refuses to Die

She hates this.

You remind her of him.

The one who raised her, the one who shaped her into who she is—the Father she buried with her own hands.

And yet, here you stand.

Smiling that same infuriating smile.

She wants to ignore you. To pretend you do not exist.

But her eyes always find you in the crowd.

Her mind refuses to let go.

And before she knows it, she has you cornered.

Her gloved fingers trail along your cheek, deceptively gentle.

"You have no idea what you’ve done," she murmurs, eyes dark.

Because now—

She cannot let you go.

Neuvillette – The Mourning Judge

It is raining.

It has been raining since the moment he saw you.

Neuvillette does not understand why the sight of you unsettles him so deeply.

Until he realizes—

Egeria.

The one he lost. The one who guided Fontaine, whose absence left a wound that never fully healed.

And now, you.

You are not her. And yet, something in the way you move, in the way you speak—it is too close.

Too painful.

He does not approach you immediately. He simply watches, silent, distant, his expression unreadable.

But the rain continues.

And when he finally does speak, his voice is impossibly soft—

"You should not be alone."

You shifted uncomfortably. “Do I… know you?”

His pale eyes darkened.

"No," he murmured. "But I knew you."

Your brows furrowed in confusion, but Neuvillette did not elaborate.

Instead, he simply watched you.

Silent.

Possessive.

Rain poured harder, soaking his coat—soaking you.

He did not care.

For the first time in centuries…

He had something worth keeping.

Albedo – The Creator’s Repeating Experiment

At first, he does not react.

He simply observes.

You are not Rhinedottir. Your eyes are different, your voice is not the same.

And yet.

There is something in your expression—some unspoken familiarity—that grips him in a way he cannot explain.

Albedo does not believe in fate.

But this?

This is close.

"You are intriguing," he says at last, tilting his head. "I wonder…"

He steps closer.

"Would you allow me to study you?"

There is no real question in his voice.

Because now that he has found you—

He will never let you go.

Venti – The Wind That Carries Memories

Venti forgets how to breathe.

He stops playing his lyre mid-song, fingers frozen over the strings.

You are standing there, bathed in Mondstadt’s golden light, and for a moment—just a moment—he thinks he sees him.

His best friend.

The boy who once dreamed of freedom.

Venti’s chest aches.

And then, you smile.

And his vision blurs.

He appears before you in an instant, his usual playful demeanour gone.

"Hey," he breathes, voice trembling slightly. "Do you… believe in destiny?"

His fingers curl around your wrist.

Because if this is fate—

He won’t let it slip away again.

Mavuika — The Ghost of the Fallen God

She stares.

For a long time, she does nothing but stare.

You look just like Xbalanque.

The deity she lost, the one who was taken from her—the one whose absence left her hollow.

Mavuika does not speak at first. She simply stands in your path, silent and still, her piercing eyes locked onto you.

Then, softly—

"I have waited a long time."

Her voice is almost gentle.

But there is something dangerous beneath it.

"You will not leave me again."

And she means it.

Ei – The Raiden Shogun’s Eternal Mourning

It was a cruel trick.

Fate had already taken too much from her.

Makoto. Her people. The ones she had loved.

And now—

Now, it dared to put you before her, looking so much like her sister yet not.

Ei’s grip on her sword tightened.

You turned to face her, eyes questioning. “Do you need something?”

Her breath caught.

For a moment, she saw Makoto.

For a moment, she thought she could reach her.

And then, the realization sank in.

Her blade lowered.

"You will stay in Inazuma," she said softly—too softly.

You blinked. “I never said—”

"It was not a request."

This time, she would not be left behind.

[secretlifeofliyahh]

FLATLINE

pairing: paige bueckers x fem!reader

warnings: cussing, angst, one kiss

↳ side note: paige comes home and sees you

𝐅𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐄 paige bueckers x fem!reader (angst | one kiss | gxg | very long)

You weren’t supposed to see her.

Not again. Not here. Not in Minnesota. Not after she left you standing in the damn hallway of Hopkins High with nothing but a shaky breath, wet cheeks, and a heart that hadn’t stopped flatlining since the day she boarded that plane to Connecticut.

But here she was.

Back in the place she once called home. Back where it all started. Back in the grocery store parking lot at 7:47pm on a Thursday like her presence wouldn’t rip something raw and unresolved open in your chest.

She saw you before you could duck your head.

“Y/N?”

Her voice was exactly the same — soft, lilting, just enough rasp to remind you of summer nights on your porch when she'd read you poetry with a flashlight under her chin and pretend it was Shakespeare.

You froze.

Not from fear. Not from surprise.

From anger.

“You really came back?” you said, teeth clenched.

She blinked, already defensive. “I mean… it’s home.”

You laughed once. Bitter. “Oh, now it’s home.”

She flinched.

Because she knew.

She knew what she did. She knew what she left behind.

You.

She texts you later.

“can we talk?”

You leave her on read.

She tries again the next day. Then the next. Until finally, it’s Saturday night and your chest feels too heavy with everything you’ve never said, and she sends you a final one:

“i’m outside.”

You look out the window. She’s in that same gray hoodie she used to wear after practice, leaning against her car like she doesn’t know you’ve dreamed of yelling at her for years.

You walk outside.

You don't say a word.

“I didn’t know how to say goodbye,” she mumbles before you can open your mouth. “So I didn’t.”

You squint at her through the porch light.

“And you think that’s an excuse?”

“No,” she admits. “But I was seventeen. I thought if I left fast enough, it’d hurt less.”

“For who?”

That lands.

She shifts her weight. Looks down at her shoes. “You,” she says, almost like a whisper. “Me. Both of us.”

“You didn’t just leave, Paige. You disappeared. I had to find out from your mom that you were gone. You kissed me the night before and said you’d call, and then I never heard from you again. You acted like we—like I—meant nothing.”

“You meant everything,” she says immediately.

You scoff. “Yeah. Sure. That’s why you couldn’t even text back once.”

“I didn’t know how to deal with it. You were the one person who made this place feel like more than just a stepping stone. And I needed to leave. For me. For my career. But if I stayed for you, I knew I’d never go.”

“And you couldn’t have told me that?”

“I was a coward.”

The words hang in the night.

“I thought about you every day,” she continues, slower. “In dorm rooms. After games. On the court. I looked for you in every crowd like maybe you’d show up and scream at me or something.”

You finally look at her fully, throat dry. “And what would you have done if I had?”

“I would’ve deserved it.”

The porch light flickers. She’s standing so close now you can smell that same vanilla body wash she used to steal from your shower. You hate how much of her you remember.

“I didn’t just lose my girlfriend,” you say, voice cracking. “I lost my best friend.”

“I know,” she whispers. “And I’m so sorry, Y/N. You didn’t deserve that. You didn’t deserve me—at least not how I was back then.”

You laugh bitterly. “Then why are you here now?”

She swallows. “Because I never stopped loving you.”

The silence after that is so loud it could break the moon.

You breathe, just once, before speaking.

“You don’t get to come back and say that like it’s supposed to fix everything.”

“I know.”

You take a shaky step toward her. Then another. And then you’re right there, close enough to see the shimmer of guilt in her eyes.

“I don’t forgive you,” you say.

She nods.

“But I missed you,” you add, a whisper.

“I missed you more.”

And then, you don’t know who moves first—but her hand is on your cheek and your fingers are in her hoodie and she kisses you like nothing’s ever changed, like time is a liar, like seventeen didn’t shatter everything you ever had.

Just one kiss.

One breath between two broken girls who never got their goodbye.

And maybe this isn’t a beginning. Maybe it’s not even a second chance.

But it’s something.

And for now, that’s enough.

END.

TAGLIST @2prettyyjayahhh , @24hrssofnea , @americasfavoritelesbian , @archivessofkassidee

[htaesan]

　ᅠ 📩　ᅠ EMAILS BETTER LEFT UNSENT part 2　　────　ᅠ ( park sunghoon )

𝓹recis ⠀ : ⠀your crush on your best friend of almost ten years is getting out of hand, and you feel like it’s time to give up𑁋especially after seeing how well your desk mate treats you.

　　　ᅠ 박성훈 & 심재윤 ⠀⠀◜◡◝ ⠀⠀𝒇 reader ⠀wc 32k ⠀ genre fluff a bit of angst childhood best friends to lovers non idol au high school au ⠀ contains mentions of food sickness crying skinship pet names ocs and random characters ⠀ tagging @a-dream-bookmark ,@/k-labels , @k-nets , @k-films , @sgz-net

　　　ᅠ note ᅠ from ᅠ 𝐋𝐈𝐋𝐈 ! ᅠ HELLO your fav fic is back and better!!! (i hope.) saurrrrr i know the word count is crazy and tumblr does not let me put that much words in one post.. so this is the second part ! >< (i am so sorry) enjoy reading my debut enhypen fic on my new blog ^_^

　　　ᅠ ＞︿ 　　please leave feedbacks 　　& 　　reblog

To: parksung.h0on812@gmail.com From: sincerely/n@gmail.com Park Sunghoon, Thank you for taking care of me at the hospital. Part of me was weirded out as to why you’re so adamant in making sure you were there to witness me eat all my meals until I was discharged. Even Heeseung oppa was weirded out. He asked me if you had… feelings for me.  I said no. I strongly believe in it, that you harbour no such feelings towards me.  A very small part of me thinks you like me—exactly like the way I like you. That very tiny part of me is giving me hope that feels illegal to have… hope that maybe I’ll be able to call you mine, and that I’ll be able to spend the rest of my life loving you loudly.  Though, I’ll use my rational mind here. There’s no way you like me the way I like you.  It’s impossible.  It’s impossible.  Maybe it’s not, but… It’s impossible.  Sent 23:45 PM, 11th November.

To: parksung.h0812@gmail.com From: sincerely/n@gmail.com Dear Sunghoon,  Thank you for always sending me plenty of food every day, at each meal time. You’re very clever, aren’t you? You’re making me feel bad if I don’t eat the food, so that way I’ll finish everything.  You know me best, Sunghoon, and I sometimes hate you for that. Do you know how dangerous this fact is for my heart? She keeps on falling for you. Again, again, and again.  I’ll come over to your house after I finish this practice exam paper. Wait for me :)  Sent 9:08 AM, 12th November. 

You’re standing in front of the hotteok booth, bundled up in a warm puffer jacket. You had decided to buy some warm street food before going to Sunghoon’s house.

You shove your hands into your pockets, trying to keep warm. You impatiently tap your feet against the concrete floor, wishing that the old lady at the stall is cooking your hotteok a little faster.  

“Aunty, I’ll pay for her hotteok,” you hear a familiar voice say.

“Jake?” you say upon seeing him beside you. He gives you a toothy smile. 

“Hi, good morning.” 

“Good morning,” you reply grumpily, “are you the richest person in the world, or what? You don’t need to pay for my food every single time you see me.”

Jake laughs, and you see wisps of his breath vaporising from his lips. “I’ve never seen someone get mad at me for paying for their food.”

“Have you done this kind of treatment to anyone else?” you ask sharply.

Though, your tone does not intimidate Jake at all. He simply chuckles, and raises an eyebrow in amusement. “Why? Are you jealous?”

“No,” you snort, elbowing him. “Why would I be?”

“Here you go,” the hotteok lady says, handing you a paper bag filled with the goodies you asked her for. The scent attacks your nose, and you smile happily at the thought of devouring them as soon as possible. 

“It’s KRW 4500,” the lady reminds, and as swift as the autumn wind, Jake hands her the money. “Thank you,” she says. 

“Aish, seriously,” you grumble. “I can pay for myself, you know.”

Before Jake could say anything in reply, the hotteok lady interrupts with a cheeky smile. “Jaeyun-ah, is she your girlfriend? She’s so pretty.”

Your jaw falls open as your eyes dart rapidly between Jake and the lady. “N-no, I’m not–”

Jake grabs your hand and gives the lady a very generous smile. “Thank you, aunty, I do think she’s very beautiful too.”

You feel heat smothering the entirety of your face and you give the lady a sheepish laugh. Jake then bids farewell to the lady and leads you towards the bus station. 

“You’re crazy, aren’t you?” you hiss, pulling your hand away from his grip. “I’m not your girlfriend.”

Jake raises an amused eyebrow. “Oh? I thought you said yes the other day.”

“To what?”

“You agreed to dating me for a month, as a preview?”

“When…” you take a deep breath, containing your rage. Even though Jake was a very nice and polite person that you enjoy being around a lot, there’s this cocky side of him that often gets on your nerves. “...when did I agree to that?”

Jake looks confused—causing him to break out of his arrogant and confident manner, and it took him a minute to answer. “Oh. I-I took your silence as a yes.”

You laugh defeatedly. “Jake, I don’t think that’s how it works with me.”

Jake nods slowly, removing his gaze from you. While he’s recollecting his thoughts, and possibly coming up with a new tactic to convince you to date him; you’re thinking about it yourself, too. 

Jake’s nice—he’s good looking, athletic, and he’s smart too. From the beginning of your friendship with him in sophomore year, Jake has never been anything but kind and caring to you. You lost count the amount of times he’s bought you food and drinks, helped you in subjects you particularly aren’t too good in—and he doesn’t make you feel less smart at all. 

Honestly, you would classify Jake as one of the guys that girls are dying to get together with. He’s fun to be around—even if he can be overwhelming sometimes—he’s outgoing and adaptable, and he loves hard. 

You’ve seen the loving side of him, exposed to you for almost the entirety of your high school years. It’s just that you chose to ignore it, unable to see Jake as something more than a good friend of yours. 

You lay eyes on him, feeling bad—Jake deserves someone who reciprocates the immense amount of love he gives, not someone who purposefully chooses to friendzone him every single time, even though there’s absolutely nothing wrong with him. 

A voice inside your head tells you to try. That voice tells you to choose yourself, instead of pining after Sunghoon who most likely isn’t going to love you the same way you love him. It tells you that, perhaps, by giving Jake a chance, you’d give yourself one too. A chance to finally love and prioritise yourself.

“Fine,” you say, your voice shaky at first. “Let’s do it.”

YOU’RE riding the bus with Jake sitting by your side—and from the corner of your eyes, you can see how greatly his mood improved. He’s swinging his head slightly at the hum of a song he’s murmuring. 

“I’ll see you later,” Jake says when the bus approaches your stop. He gives you the brightest smile you’ve seen on him yet. “Take care, text me when you get there.”

You chortle, “relax, I’m only going to Sunghoon’s house. Nothing’s going to happen.”

“Sunghoon?” Jake’s smile slips, and for a split second, you almost catch his eyes darken.

You nod cautiously. “Yeah, I’m going to study there,” you say, adjusting the tote bag on your shoulder. “Most likely I’m just going there to hangout, probably.”

“Why don’t you hang out at my place?” Jake suggests.

You grin. “You’re too clingy for someone who isn’t my boyfriend yet.”

“But–” 

“Shh,” you place a finger on Jake’s lips, sending tingles through. “See you later.”

Jake watches with round eyes as you hop off the bus, waving cheerfully at him. It takes him a minute to process what happened, and it had been a little too late for him to wave back at you. 

To: parksung.h0on812@gmail.com From: sincerely/n@gmail.com Dear Sunghoon,   Thanks for letting me hang out at your house today. It’s been a while since I’ve eaten your mom’s cooking, I miss it.  Hoon, I hope you’ve been doing well. I hope you’ve been eating well, not missing your meals like I do, and that you’re always taking good care of yourself like how you’ve been taking care of me.  Honestly, I envy you.  How do you not develop feelings for someone who you’ve spent years with—who you’ve shared a bed and a blanket with multiple times, who you’ve eaten from the same utensils together a lot of times, whom you have hugged and cried with countless times. How do you not love someone, more than the boundaries of a mere friendship, who’s been there for you through ups and downs; who’s seen you at your best and your worst; who’s always making sure you’re taking care of yourself? How do you not fall in love with someone as kind as you? Sent 23:10 PM, 12th November. 

To: parksung.h0on812@gmail.com From: sincerely/n@gmail.com Sunghoon! We did it! National entrance exams are finally over! I can finally sleep in for a whole day…  I’m so proud of you. I’m so proud of us. We’ve been through so many things together, now—kindergarten, elementary, middle school and now we’re more than halfway through high school!  I can’t believe I’ve gone through so much with you by my side. I still remember you cheering me through my first violin recital back in second grade; and since then, you’ve never really missed any of my recitals. I still remember you teaching me how to skate, back in fourth grade, holding my hand tightly through every glide I took. I still remember you pulling me into one of the tightest hugs I’ve ever received from you, back in sixth grade, when you won the gold medal for the figure skating competition—I had never felt so joyful for someone other than you.  I hope with the last bit of the school year left for us to spend together, we’ll make a lot of memories.  Sent 23:46 PM, 14th November.  

Knock knock. Knock knock. Knock knock. 

Your eyes immediately flutter open, alarmed by the noise at your window. Groggily, you force yourself to stand up and rush to the source of the sound—your blurry vision barely making up the figure of Sunghoon outside. 

“Let me in,” he says, voice muffled. “It’s cold.”

“No,” you mumble sleepily. “Who are you…?”

“Princess, it’s me,” he exclaims a little bit louder so you can hear him properly. Nodding idly, you obey and open the window for him to jump in. Sunghoon, noticing your extremely sleepy condition, wraps an arm around your shoulder. He closes the window securely with his free hand before guiding you to your bed. 

“Are you that sleepy?” he asks you as he guides you to sit down in front of him. “It’s only 2 AM.”

“Mhm,” you nod, “I’m so sleepy…” 

Sunghoon softly pushes away a strand of hair from your face, tucking it gently behind your ear. You’re not meeting his gaze, your eyes droopy as they fight for their life to stay open. “Do you want to sleep right now?”

You nod, and Sunghoon can’t help but chuckle—you look so unbearably cute. Then, after a minute of debating whether he should leave to let you sleep or not, Sunghoon decides to do something he’s been doing ever since the two of you were nine years old. 

Sunghoon pats his thigh, signalling for you to land your head on it. Sleepy and unaware of your surroundings, you obey and lay on his lap, shifting to make yourself comfortable. Within seconds, you’re already sailing back to dreamland. 

Actually, Sunghoon came to talk about his problems to you. It’s always been like that—you are each other’s safe place. He could tell you about anything and you’d listen, so intently that the problem is already instantly solved. 

In the dead of the night, Sunghoon smiles to himself as he admires a sleeping you. You look so comfortable, at home, in his presence. You look so ethereal, and the moon seems to agree. Its dainty glow highlights the best of your features, glistening upon contact with your beauty. You’re sleeping, breathing gently and possibly dreaming about food and fun memories—but Sunghoon’s cheeks are reddening. His breaths are shaky, and with each exhale, he’s admitting something that he’s been denying for almost a decade. 

Sunghoon likes you. 

More than what friends should. 

Sunghoon loves you—more than what he’d like to admit; more than what childhood friends of almost 10 years are supposed to. 

“I like you, Y/N,” he whispers, and with each word that escapes from his lips, his shoulders release its tension. “I’ve liked you for a long time now. I-I don’t know what’s wrong with me, but I like you.”

Sunghoons laughs, shaking his head. “Maybe I’m insane. Maybe I am, ‘cause the way my heart beats for you doesn’t suit what we are. The way I pretend that we’re just friends when every single night, I’ll dream about you–” he bit his lip, in hopes to control his feelings from overflowing, “–that is insane.”

“I didn’t want to fall in love,” Sunghoon whispers, slowly lifting his hand. He begins to trace your facial features, so gentle like he’s going to shatter you into pieces if he’s too harsh. “But you—how can someone look at you and not fall in love, Y/N?”

His finger comes into a halt at your lips. Sunghoon stares intently, his heart urging him painfully to just kiss you. He leans and kisses your nose instead, so tenderly it seemed like barely a touch. 

Sunghoon smiles to himself, content. “One day, I’ll find the courage to tell you everything. I’ll tell you myself, how much I love you, how much I want you to be by my side for the rest of my life.”

THE next morning, you can’t help but laugh at the way Sunghoon’s gawking at you as you rush here and there to get ready. At first, you found it a bit weird how he slept on your floor the entire night, but given that he has been doing that for the past few years, you don’t really mind.

“What?” 

“What do you mean what?” Sunghoon grumbles. “Where are you going?”

You scrunch your nose, giggling. “Guess!” you exclaim, turning away to finish doing your hair. 

Sunghoon rolls his eyes. “How would I know? I mean, we are not going anywhere, so why are you dolling up?”

“Well,” you chuckle, “I’m going to the aquarium with Jaeyun. he asked—”

“JAKE?” Sunghoon yelps, almost falling off the edge of your bed. 

You pause at the sudden reaction, one that you did not expect from Sunghoon. “What? We’re just friends.”

“Yet it’s a date,” Sunghoon flatly addresses. 

“No it’s not!” you shriek, despite the fact that Sunghoon was in fact, correct. “I mean, yes, it is,” you roll your eyes at Sunghoon’s ‘I knew it’ expression. “But I haven’t said anything to him. Like, we’re not in a relationship or anything.”

You show Sunghoon your messages with Jake, hoping to ease the frown on his face. 

hi y/n

if you’re free today

let’s go to the aquarium? let’s go by train

“See?” you say, “it’s nothing.”

Sunghoon turns off your smartphone, placing it to the side. His eyes pierce straight through you. “You look ugly.”

You gasp, your eyes widening as your smile drops drastically. What could hurt more—getting told by your crush that you look ugly, or being rejected by him? 

“Okay, well, I take it back,” Sunghoon hesitates, “you l-look pretty. But, what I’m tryna say is that you don’t have to put on so much makeup.”

You stare at him, heart pounding so loudly as you await his next words. 

Sunghoon continues, eyes looking away from you, “you don’t have to doll up. He’ll like you just the way you are.”

He gives you an awkward smile—leaning forward to pat your head. “I’ll wait outside. I wanna greet Mrs. Lee and say thanks for letting me sleep here.”

You watch as Sunghoon hops off your bed and walks out of the room, closing the door gently behind him. Your eyes linger around at the door, as if you’re waiting for him to come back in and watch you get ready. You sigh, turn back to the mirror, and continue finishing your makeup—doubting if you really are overdoing things with every stroke of the makeup brush. 

MOMENTS later, you’re sitting in the taxi next to Sunghoon, who insisted so much that he accompanied you to the train station to meet Jake. His excuse? It’s so that you won’t get lost due to the heavy crowd at the station, and so that you won’t be too nervous to go on your first date with Jake. Sunghoon even went as far as to call your brother about it—and Heeseung agrees, so you have no choice but to obey.

“Do you like Jake?” Sunghoon asks, five minutes into the ride. 

His question is direct and forward, and it feels like a bomb dropped straight to your face. It challenges you to truly label your feelings, distinguishing it clearly. 

You return his gaze, biting your lower lip as you think of an answer. The answer is blurry between the lines of yes and no. “No? I mean, he’s a nice person.”

“So you like… like him?”

You aggressively shake your head. “No! I like him as a friend.”

“Then, you’re going on dates with him?” Sunghoon questions. 

Your mouth sets on a hard line. “Okay, listen. Jake likes me—not the other way around—and he offered to date me for one month.”

“And you agreed?” Sunghoon jabs, his arms crossing across his chest. 

Your gaze sharpens. “Gosh, Hoon, stop being so difficult! As I said, Jake’s just a friend. You don’t have to worry about anything. I agreed to dating him for a month as a ‘preview’ because he’s nice, and he likes me. Plus, it doesn’t hurt to try, does it?”

Sunghoon sighs, his jaw clenching. “You think love is a joke?”

Your mouth falls open, and for a few seconds, you struggle to form words. “N-no, I don’t. Love… it’s something serious to me, Hoon, and I know you know that. I’m just giving Jake a chance to prove himself to me.”

“Then if you don’t like him, you’ll reject him?” Sunghoon asks sharply, an eyebrow perched upwards in mockery. 

“Well… yeah,” you admit silently. 

You don’t know what you expect as Sunghoon’s next response, but you’re surprised to find simply nodding and turning away, scrolling through social media on his smartphone. The rest of the taxi ride remains silent, and Sunghoon only opens his mouth when you’ve arrived at the train station. 

“Go on, have fun,” Sunghoon says, urging you to go out before you can offer to pay the fare. “I’ll pay—plus, I have somewhere I need to go to.”

“Are you sure?” you ask as you step out of the vehicle. Sunghoon gives you a strained smile before nodding reassuringly.  

“Yes,” he replies. “Go on, princess, have fun at the aquarium. Don’t annoy Jake too much.”

“Okay,” you say, and you stand there, frozen as you watch the cab drive away. It’s painful, for some reason, to watch him let you go and do nothing about it. 

Though, the universe doesn’t seem to let you dwell onto that guilt for too long. The taxi Sunghoon is in barely goes out of your sight before someone taps your shoulder. You turn around and see Jake—he’s dressed casually in a white tee, a navy blue plaid shirt as a cardigan, and brown jeans. His hair is combed nicely, in a way that some of it falls perfectly on his forehead. 

“Hi,” you say, “you look nice.”

Jake smiles shyly, coughing it away. “Yeah. I-I mean, thanks. You look beautiful.”

You snort, scanning your own outfit—a white babydoll top with plain blue jeans. “Beautiful? I wouldn’t say that.”

Jake pouts. “You give yourself too little credit.”

“Whatever,” you shake your head. 

“So, um, let’s go?” Jake offers you his arm. “I know you might not want to… hold my hand, but if you hold my arm, you won’t get lost in the crowd.”

You give him a slight smile, accepting his offer by grabbing his arm. “Alright, let’s go.”

For the entire train ride to the aquarium, which took about 20 minutes, Jake had been nothing but kind and caring towards you, just how you expected him to be. He made sure to find a seat that was comfortable for you—he even offered his seat to an old lady. Though, he made sure to stand directly in front of you, acting as a shield or a protector. Jake kept a respectful distance from you, but at the same time, he made sure that no creeps or anything of that sort could make you uncomfortable. Of course, you got some comments from people around you that Jake is extremely lucky to have a girlfriend as pretty as you, and vice versa. You tried to deny them at first, clarifying that you and Jake are just friends, but you gave up halfway due to Jake’s speed—you wonder how he managed to reply to them faster than you do. 

When the train arrives at your designated stop, Jake offers you a hand—and you take it, letting him guide you through the ocean of people. At the ticket counter, you didn’t even have a chance to offer to pay—Jake did it all. 

It’s really awkward at first, having everyone look at you with heart eyes, whispering “aww, they’re so cute”, “oh my, they look so good together”, “look at him, so sweet, paying for his girlfriend” as you and Jake pass by. Though, all the awkwardness quickly dissolves away as soon as you set eyes on the aquariums on display. 

The first display hall of the aquarium is decorated with colourful and mystical lights, making the aquatic creatures living inside so much prettier. You pull out your smartphone and take numerous pictures; Jake walking close behind you, observing you intently. He smiles gently as he watches you in awe of the corals and jellyfish, sneaking a few pictures of you. 

Once the two of you reach the highlight of the aquarium, which is the aquarium tunnel, you can’t help but gasp in complete astonishment. Jake watches with amusement, laughing along with you as you spin around, taking in the view around you.

“Jaeyun!” you squeal, the edges of your eyes crinkling as you smile widely. “Look! It’s so pretty!”

To you, the view around you is breathtaking—with every turn, you see sharks swimming around, followed by unknown schools of fishes and aquatic life. But, to Jake, the breathtaking view is you. Features illuminated by hues of blue and purple light, Jake can’t help but smile merrily at the sight of you, happily admiring the scenery in the aquarium. 

“Yeah,” Jake replies, breathless. “It’s pretty,” he says, but he’s looking at you. 

To: parksung.h0on812@gmail.com From: sincerely/n@gmail.com Hi Sunghoon, Today’s date with Jaeyun was really fun! I haven’t been to the aquarium in Busan for quite some time, so it’s nice to be there! He paid for everything, of course, so I had to enjoy it ten times more! Hehe. He also paid for lunch… I kinda feel bad. I tried to refuse and pay for myself, but Jaeyun wouldn’t let me. :(  Hmm. I hope you aren’t upset with me spending time with Jaeyun. Okay, honestly, I don’t know why I’m saying this in the first place, but… I don’t know if I should continue loving you. Sure, I still do love you, but maybe, for the sake of my heart, I’ll keep my love strictly within the limits of friendship.  I don’t know. I still like you. I want to be with you, grow old and create countless memories with you. But I have to take care of my heart, too, don’t I?  It’s been five years, Sunghoon, and I don’t know if my love will ever be reciprocated. I don’t know if you’ll ever love me back the same way. Besides, with school ending in five months, it’s certain that we’ll diverge in our paths—not meeting each other again for years to come. I don’t want to be in pain, Sunghoon, but at the same time, I’m willing to go through even the harshest storms and pits of hell for you.  Sent 19:15 PM, 15th November.

Closing your laptop shut, you hit yoursel lightly. How could you forget? It’s Jake’s birthday! You only realised after seeing Naeun’s text, reminding you if you’d come over to her house to help Fdaniset up for Jennie and Jake’s surprise birthday party . The two of you had gone out together for the day, and you didn’t even wish him a happy birthday. Trying not to trip, you grab your purse, smartphone and a puffer coat, and run out of the house. You rush to a nearby cafe—thankfully there has been a bakery in your neighbourhood—to buy two small lunch box cakes. You whip out your smartphone, dialling Jake’s number. The sun is setting, and you desperately hope he answers, despite only parting ways with you less than 30 minutes ago. 

“Y/N?” his voice came through.

You let out a shaky laugh of relief. “Oh, thank you for answering the phone. Are you free?”

“Are you okay?” he asks. “I-I mean, I’m free. Just chilling at home right now. Why?”

“I… want to drop something off,” you say, carefully choosing your words. You certainly don’t want the cake in your hands to not be a surprise. “I-I mean! I want to give you… something.”

You hear Jake chuckle. “Okay, I’ll meet you—send me your location?”

“Can we just meet at your house?” you inquire, not wanting to give Jake an inconvenience. 

“I don’t prefer having the lady go out of her way to meet me,” Jake replies after some silence, “I prefer going out of my way to meet her.”

Your nose crinkles as you try to hold in your shyness. “O-oh, okay… I’ll send you my location.”

You quickly end the call, and send him the location of the cafe you’re standing in front of. A few minutes later, you see Jake running up to you—his hair messily tousled by the wind, his chest heaving up and down drastically. 

“Did you run here?” you ask.

Jake nods. “Yeah. I wanted to meet you.”

You laugh, soft like the wind. “We literally just met this afternoon, Jaeyun.”

“Anyway,” you say, stretching out your arms to show the lunchbox cake, the one that you had asked the shop employee to say ‘Happy Birthday, Jaeyun!’ on it, to Jake. “Happy birthday. I’m sorry I didn’t say it earlier today, I didn’t realise it was your birthday too… I mean, you acted like it was a normal day!”

“My birthday too?” Jake asks, amusement glinting in his eyes. “Did you forget that Jennie’s my twin sister?”

You pout, not knowing what to say. “I’m sorry…”

After grabbing the cake from your hands, Jake leans forward and pats your head. “Thank you, Y/N. Means a lot.” 

Then, feeling the buzz of your smartphone in your pocket, you’re reminded of the birthday surprise you need to help Naeun with. You quickly say goodbye, and wish Jake a happy birthday again before running off to catch a taxi. 

Jake watches you go, his eyes lingering a second longer, even after the taxi you’re in leaves his line of sight. He turns his attention to the lunchbox cake in his hands, a smile curving up his lips as he examines its design—a cute puppy, on a plain white cake, saying ‘Happy Birthday, Jaeyun!’. 

Jake turns on his heel and merrily walks home. Deep in his heart, he knows that the girl he likes has her heart set on someone else, yet this little gesture feels like he’s won her over. It’s short and doesn’t last as long as he’d like it to be, but the butterflies it gives him is enough to last him awhile. 

AS you’re desperately wishing for the traffic to die down quickly, due to you needing to be at Naeun’s house as quickly as possible, your thoughts lead your mind elsewhere. You’re back to thinking about your interaction with Jake—how his surprised yet grateful smile seemed to hide a thousand more emotions behind its perfection… it lingers in your mind. His gestures are sweet and really, really thoughtful—he’s willing to go out of his way for you, always managing to crack a smile from you. 

Deep down, you know Jake cares about you. He’s everything you had looked for in a partner—he’s willing to learn more about you, he’s patient and kind, he’s good looking and he’s smart—if only your heart wasn’t tightly bound to someone else. 

Halfway to Naeun’s place, your smartphone buzzes with a text message. This time, it’s from Naeun. You quickly open it, expecting a “hurry up, Y/N!” or some kind of instruction for the surprise—instead, you find a picture of Jake with the lunchbox cake you gave him. He’s smiling, posing in front of his house, holding it up to the camera with that goofy, happy grin that makes your heart do a little flip. 

y/n, did you give this cake to him? 

it’s on his instagram story

You reply, 

yes. but it’s not the one we’re surprising them with

it’s with me rn

You watch Naeun’s reply pop out on the screen. 

oh good

scared me

also, what’s up with the caption? 

“I think I’m in love with her, Y/N. This cake... it’s everything to me. She’s everything.” 

The message halts you in motion. Your fingers hover over the screen, unsure of what to reply. For a moment, you’re sitting there, staring at the screen while the traffic buzzes around the taxi you’re in. 

The message is like a hard slap to the face, but instead of making you cry, it makes you second guess everything.

Is Jake really falling for you? Are his actions purely out of love, and not just some casual ‘I like you’ kind of thing? Is he really waiting for something, some kind of answer, from you? 

You press your lips into a thin line, thinking hard. 

Jake has been nothing but patient, kind and loving towards you. He’s everything that every girl, including you, would ask for. Though, that fact comes with a feeling that you can’t shake off—every time you think of Jake’s smile, his kindness and his warmth; it all drifts back to Sunghoon. How the world seems to revolve around him, his smile that makes you think of bread whenever you see it, the warmth of his hugs, and the comfort of his presence. 

Your heart always seems to find its way back to Sunghoon. 

You swallow thickly, trying to push the guilt down. It’s not fair to Jake. It’s not fair to anyone, especially you, because you’re the one stuck in the middle of two worlds.

Do you pick Jake, or do you stay with Sunghoon?

THE surprise birthday party is a blur. Everyone’s laughing, chatting, eating their hearts away, and there’s a sense of celebration in the air—but you can’t quite ignore the clenching feeling in your stomach. You’ve got two different people to think about now, and you don’t know how to navigate the space between them.

And all the while, Jake’s smile from earlier keeps dancing in your mind. The way he’d looked at you as you handed him the cake, the way he’d thanked you so earnestly. Why did a small, lunch box cake seem to mean so much to him? How do you even respond to that? How do you face him, knowing he’s waiting for something that you might not be able to give?

You glance across the room, catching Jake’s eye as he talks with Jennie. You quickly look away, feeling a small, warm burn in your cheeks. You can’t help but wonder what he’s thinking, and more importantly, if he knows that your heart is, somehow, still tethered to someone else.

You pull your eyes away, unaware that Jake had quickly excused himself to approach you.

You sit in silence at the dining table, the birthday party bustling around you. It’s a small party, yet you can feel the high excitement and energy in the atmosphere. You sit alone at your seat, sipping on your drink. Sunghoon had left for a while to get some refreshments for everyone, so you’re left sitting by yourself. 

“Y/N,” Jake says, pulling you out of your haze. “May I sit?”

You give him a quick smile as you nod. “Of course.”

“Are you not enjoying yourself?” Jake asks, grabbing a slice of pizza. “You’re quiet.”

You glance at the ceiling, feeling awkward as you don’t know what to say. You laugh sheepishly. “No, of course not! I am enjoying myself! Just… you know… soaking in everything.”

Jake laughs, throwing his head back. “I can tell with one eye closed that you want to go home right now.”

“Yeah, I should probably study,” you reply with a laugh. 

Your conversation with Jake dims down, and the ambiance of the party resurfaces. You’re sitting in front of Jake, stiffly avoiding his gaze as he’s observing you. It’s like he has a million things to say, but can’t seem to find the right words. 

“Y/N,” Jake suddenly says, his voice unsteady. “Thanks for making this surprise party for me and Jennie.”

You smile at him, breaking eye contact as soon as he finishes speaking. Suddenly, Layla chasing around her tail in the corner becomes such an interesting thing to watch. 

“Of course.”

You connect your gaze with Jake, and you instantly are reminded of the conversation you had earlier at the aquarium. 

THE tension between you and Jake is physical as you take in the beauty of the aquarium, elatedly ignorant of Jake’s silent adoration of you. Sure, the aquarium is beautiful—the lights dancing off the walls of the tunnel, creating wavy shadows of mesmerising colours, illuminating the ocean creatures in a magical way—but, for Jake, you are the most captivating sight. 

Jake watches you, his focus unwavering from you, with pure content as you spin with excitement, pointing out every creature you lay your eyes upon. There’s an assured warmth in his eyes, the way he lays his eyes on you with a quiet affection that’s very much impossible to ignore; and for a moment, you wonder if maybe you’ve misjudged his feelings. Maybe there’s something deeper there that you haven’t fully acknowledged yet. Maybe he does really really like you—not the casual high school fling you thought he felt. 

“Y/N,” you turn around and your pupils immediately dilate at the sight of Jake, who’s taking a step closer to you. 

Jake gives you a genuine smile. One that made you see that, indeed, there are raw and vulnerable emotions behind Decelis Academy’s basketball ace’s handsome face. His voice is wobbly. “Thank you, really, for doing this with me. I’m really glad because I’m… I’m having a lot of fun, actually. More than I thought I would.”

You glance at him as you stiffly nod, your lips forming a half-smile. 

“Of course,” you reply, feeling a pang in your chest as you remember Sunghoon’s words earlier in the taxi. Was he right? Could it be that Jake is looking for something more from you, and you’re just breaking his heart by doing this—the one-month dating agreement, where you yourself are uncertain if you’d reciprocate his feelings? “Me too—it’s been nice.”

Jake takes a deep breath, and as he continues, you begin to wonder if he read your mind. “I know you don’t think that this isn’t a real ‘date’ or anything… but I’d like to think of it as a real one—more than just hanging out, more than just a preview.”

You don’t dare meet his eyes. Instead, you direct your focus to the tight schools of fish swimming gracefully in the water, scales shimmering as they catch light.

“Y/N…”

You look directly into his dark brown eyes, the raw emotions swirling dangerously inside. 

“I think you’re really special, Y/N. I-I just wanted to let you know that.”

Your steps come to a halt, and Jake almost bumps into you. You turn completely to face Jake, immediately overwhelmed by how heavy the situation feels. You can feel Jake’s palpable sincerity, and as you try to process his words, the rest of the aquarium fades into the background. The tunnel seems to shrink, your surroundings blurring slightly as your focus zeroes in on Jake’s face—his solemn expression, his vulnerability out in the open for you to see.

“You’re a good person, Jaeyun, you really are,” you start, your throat shaking as you struggle to keep your voice steady. Each word feels heavy for your tongue to pronounce—Jake’s gaze is heavy on you, and a small part of you wants to be brutally honest with him, to say the truth that’s been swimming in your chest all day.

“I’m really grateful to have you as a friend, as a tablemate,” you continue, desperately hoping your emphasis on the word friend delivered the message to Jake. You give him a small, almost apologetic smile.

“But, you know…” you say, your fingers fidgeting with the edges of your top. You take a deep breath before finishing your sentence. 

“Right now, I’m… not sure if I can give you what you’re looking for,” you say, and with each letter you utter, the tension from your shoulders releases one by one. “I thought about it, Jaeyun, I really did. But I cherish you—as a friend—so much that I don’t have the heart to make you go through something one sided.”

Jake slowly nods, and you could almost hear your heart splitting as his face softens—you swear you saw a flicker of disappointment in his eyes. 

“O-of course, I figured,” he says, the crack in his voice evident. He sighs shakily, and for a second, he looks at his shoes to collect his thoughts. He looks back at you, his eyes sparkling with tears that are threatening to fall. “It’s foolish of me to expect anything from someone who’s heart belongs to another, b-but, I just wanted to… put it out there, you know?”

“I like you, Y/N,” Jake confesses, his hand placed above his heart as if he’s trying to stop it from jumping out of his chest. “I really do. I know I have no chance at all, but there’s no harm in trying, right? I just… hope that you might feel the same.”

Your heart skips a beat, and a wave of guilt washes over you. “Jaeyun… I’m sorry, I really am–”

Jake smiles, though it’s not a full smile. “It’s okay. I get it. It’s just… I don’t know. I guess I wanted to know what it would feel like to be with you like that. I thought maybe if we tried, you’d feel what I feel. But… I respect your feelings, Y/N. You don’t have to feel the same way.”

Silence falls between the two of you, and for a moment, neither of you says anything. You stand in your place, watching Jake wipe a hidden tear away from his cheek, taking a deep breath to compose himself. You feel a want to comfort him, to tell him that you’re very grateful to have him as a friend, to tell him that you’re not rejecting him as a person—it’s just that you aren’t ready to give him what he’s looking for in you. 

Though, you stay silent—the moment is too raw, too delicate for you to say anything and ruin it. 

So, instead of talking about it, you grab Jake’s arm, turning your focus back to the aquarium. “Should we go see the penguins next? They must look so cute.”

Jake lets out a heavy breath, and for a second, you think he’s going to pull away or make things awkward between you. But instead, he nods, and his smile returns, albeit a little smaller. “Yeah, that sounds great. Let’s go.”

The rest of your aquarium date goes smoothly without any hiccups, though it flows with a quiet and unspoken understanding. Jake’s demeanour is unchanged—he takes good pictures of you, he smiles and he laughs, though you could feel that his gaze is heavier with a touch of disappointment. You two enjoy the aquarium together, and even though things feel a little unsettled between you and Jake, there’s a comforting familiarity in the way you share small moments of laughter and quiet companionship. 

By the time the sun begins to set, you and Jake are both sitting on a bench outside the aquarium, munching on churros, watching the last few visitors leave. 

Jake turns to you again, his features soft and delicate. “Thanks… thanks for coming, Y/N. I’m glad you agreed to this, I’m glad you came. Even if it’s just as friends.”

You nod, suddenly conscious of the number of chews you made before swallowing a bite of churros. “Me too,” you quietly reply, turning away to look at the soft evening glow of the sky. “Thanks, Jaeyun, for being patient with me—for being my friend, for everything. I know it hasn’t been… easy.”

“Yeah, of course. I mean, it isn’t easy, but it’s worth it,” Jake shrugs, looking way too relaxed despite the tension he faced earlier. “Definitely. You are worth it, Y/N.”

The two of you exchange smiles, briefly, as you quickly turn your head away, feeling a little too shy and awkward to look Jake directly in the eye. 

“I just want you to be happy, Y/N,” Jake continues, his voice silent as if he’s talking to himself, yet he wants his words to be heard by you. “Whether that’s with me, or… not with me. I’m okay either way. My happiness is yours.”

You finally turn to Jake, staring deep into his glistening brown eyes. His words are sincere, and in your heart, you feel a swell of gratitude for his maturity. You know that Jake is someone who will always care for you, no matter what the two of you are, no matter where your relationship goes. And as you sit there in comfortable silence, the only thing that’s certain is that, for now, being friends with Jake is the best you can offer him.

To: parksung.h0812@gmail.com From: sincerely/n@gmail.com Sunghoon, You know, I’ve been thinking about us. I mean, me—how did I even fall in love with my own best friend in the first place. After a few moments of thinking, I believe I finally got it.  It was back in second grade. I remember our homeroom teacher asking us to draw a picture of us with our best friend as part of the art class—I remember drawing you and I. we had only just got to know each other for a few months, and I wasn’t even sure if you saw me as a friend too.  I was nervous to present my piece to the class, afraid that my friendship was one-sided.  The shock mixed with happiness that hit me when Naeun had shouted to the whole class, pointing to your piece, saying “teacher, look! He also drew Y/N!” I had never felt so belonged before.  Though, I don’t know if I should continue loving you. I’ve always loved you, but I don’t think I can bear it any longer, waiting for something that’s never going to happen. Thank you, Sunghoon, for being my friend all this time. I owe you my life, and I’d do anything for you. I hope you know that.  And even though I do resent you, just a little bit, for not reciprocating my love—I’ll always cherish you. If not as a lover, if not as someone who’ll stay with me till the end of time… as a friend.  Sunghoon, I’m giving up on you now. I love you, but I can’t wait forever. Sent 23:32 PM, 22nd November. 

JAKE is sitting in his room, completing homework as usual. However, nothing is going right—he’s suddenly getting all of the questions he usually gets right wrong. He pushes himself off of his chair, laying down flat on the heated floor.

Jake sighs. 

His mind is swirling with many things—you. He vividly remembers the way you offer him a guilty smile, endlessly apologising as you friendzoned him. He’s not mad about it, he’s just sad that he can’t get a chance at loving the girl he likes just because she’s stuck up on a guy, for five years, who clearly wants nothing but to be just friends with her.  

You had just left his house, 30 minutes ago, after completing a biology research paper together. You had been assigned as partners with him, and the two of you did your job well. It’s difficult to shrug off the evident awkwardness between you and Jake, but you admit that Jake’s really good at continuing off your friendship from where you left off. 

“Jaeyun,” he remembers you beaming, as he walks you to the door. 

“Yeah?” he breathed, still mesmerised by your smile. 

“Thank you,” you said with a smile, sincere and heartwarming. “Thank you for still being my friend, and thank you for always treating me well, despite the heartbreak I may have caused you.”

Jake remembers grinning, patting your head as a way of saying that it’s all in the past, and he’s okay with it now. “It’s alright, Y/N, I’m thankful that I still get to be around you.”

You nodded, turning on your heel to begin walking home. However, before you could even step out of his driveway, Jake stopped you. 

“Y/N,” he said, “I-I just wanted to say that if you ever decide that you’re… ready to give me what I’m hoping for, know that I’ll be here waiting.”

“Jaeyun… you might wait for quite some time,” you sighed. 

Jake smiled—it doesn’t quite reach his eyes, yet you can see the hope seeping through. “It’s okay. If you can wait for Sunghoon for five years, I can wait for you for more.”

You chuckled, smiling widely at Jake. “Thank you, Jae.”

Jake pressed a swift kiss to your forehead, and you froze—unusually not flinching or retracting at it. He smiled, mirroring your sincerity. “Of course—and if Sunghoon ever decides to break your heart, tell me. I’ll fight him for you.”

You laughed heartily, your heart swelling with joy at the fact that someone is here for you despite the longing and the pain you’re going through. 

Jake takes a deep breath, smiling as he recalls the moment. It hurts, that’s true, yet he’s determined to give you all that he has—one moment Sunghoon is caught slacking, he’ll be there for you, always.

“YO, Sunghoon,” Kangmin says, breaking the silence in the room. The two of them had been working on the biology group assignment together for the past few hours in Sunghoon’s room. Sunghoon turns towards his friend. 

“What?”

Kangmin, who had been sprawled all over the bedroom floor, gets up and sits up straight. He ruffles his hair before saying, “do you have a spare email? Like, one that you don’t use anymore.”

Sunghoon pauses to think. “Yeah, I do. Why?” 

Kangmin smiles sheepishly, scooting closer to Sunghoon, who’s sitting cross-legged on the floor, papers and books spread out around him. 

“Hey,” he says, mustering up an innocent smile—which is met by a vicious side eye from Sunghoon. “Can I use it?”

“For what?”

“I think my girlfriend isn’t interested in me anymore,” Kangmin replies, pouting. “I’m not entirely sure yet, so I’m going to make a fake instagram profile, using your unused email address, to test my theory out.”

Sunghoon goes poker-faced, obviously unimpressed. “Are you crazy?”

Kangmin insists. “Aww, please, Sunghoon? I really need it.”

“Fine,” Sunghoon grumbles. He opens a new window on his computer to log into an old email account, parksung.h0on812@gmail.com, the one that he hasn’t used ever since middle school ended. He’s surprised to still have the password to it saved on his Google Chrome—and easily logs in. 

Sunghoon’s eyebrows perk up in confusion at the red dot near the inbox icon, the numbers significantly high for an unused email address. 

“I’m sure I didn’t subscribe to any newsletter or anything on here,” he mutters to himself. 

Sunghoon clicks on the inbox tab, eyes widening upon what he’s seeing.

Countless emails, sent from an email address he’s all too familiar with. 

Yours. 

Sunghoon’s eyes scans the inbox, his disbelief growing with every second that passes by. His heart is racing, pumping so harshly he’s afraid it’d pop out of his chest. 

He’s familiar with the name of the sender—Y/N—his best friend, his rock, the person he’s liked for so long. 

There are so many emails—too many to ignore. The subject lines are all over the place: “What’s going on with my heart?”, “Thanks for letting me hang out at your house today…”, “I think I just fell in love with you again.”

Sunghoon’s heart pulses even faster, but he can’t seem to stop himself. He clicks on the most recent one, his heart pounding in his ears as the screen fills with words.

His heart stops for a split moment as he reads: “I’m giving up on you now. I love you, but I can’t wait forever.”

What did you mean by that?

Sunghoon stammers, not knowing how to react. His hand hovers above the mouse, hesitating to click anything. A lump forms in his throat, and tears threaten to form at the corner of his eyes. His thoughts start crashing down, and before he can even stop himself, he’s opening another email. And then another. And another. 

Each one hits him with a sensation more painful than a ton of bricks hitting from above. The emails all have one thing in common: you have been writing to him for months. Writing to him, pouring out your heart, confessing feelings that you pictured as something obvious yet he never knew about, and… he hadn’t noticed. All the smiles, the eye contacts that lasted a second too long, the hugs that made each of you feel like you’re made for one another… he realises that it meant something to you too. 

“I’ve always loved you..” 

“But I don’t think I can bear it any longer, waiting for something that’s never going to happen.”

Sunghoon’s chest tightens. His eyes flickers over the sentence again and again, each word displayed hitting him hard. His fingers freeze, unsure if he should keep scrolling or not. It feels like he’s been hit by a storm of emotions that he isn’t sure how to process.

“Sunghoon?” Kangmin’s voice pulls him out of his haze. 

Sunghoon looks up, startled, but then glances back at the screen, trying to collect his thoughts.

“What the hell?” Kangmin continues. “Park Sunghoon? Are you listening to me?”

Kangmin, who’s been watching Sunghoon for a while, curiously taps his shoulder. “Bro, you look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“Y/N…” Sunghoon mutters, his voice barely audible. He’s still staring at the screen, mind dizzy. “She… she’s been writing to me.”

Kangmin raises an eyebrow, clearly confused. He breathily asks, “what do you mean? Like, she sends you emails?”

Sunghoon swallows hard, clicking on another email. This one was from a few months ago.

“I wish I was better. I don’t know if I’m good enough for you, but if you ever need a girlfriend, or a wife one day… I’m here. Always.”

The weight of the words crushes him.

Kangmin’s teasing grin fades as he notices Sunghoon’s expression shift from confusion to something more profound. “W-wait. What? Are these... from Y/N? Are you telling me she’s been in love with you? For real?”

Sunghoon nods slowly, still unable to look away from the screen. “I… I never knew.”

Kangmin blinks, looking between Sunghoon and the open inbox. “Dude, I thought you two were just friends.”

“We are. Definitely. We are,” Sunghoon’s voice is hoarse, like he’s trying to convince himself. “But these... These are real. She’s been telling me everything, and I—”

Sunghoon inhales sharply, stopping himself from continuing. His mind is flooded with thoughts—how could he have missed the signs? How could he not notice how you felt?

“What are you going to do now?” Kangmin asks after a moment. “Are you going to talk to her about it?”

Sunghoon doesn’t answer immediately. He meets Kangmin’s eyes, like he’s trying to find solutions. His thoughts are still sprawling, and one question lingers around the longest—is he losing you? Have you truly given up on him?

“I’ll talk to her—no, I need to talk to her,” Sunghoon finally says, each word slipping off his tongue quieter than the other. “I have to make things straight—I can’t lose her. I-I… She deserves the truth more than anything.”

Kangmin grows a tiny smug smirk. “The truth? Well, man, don’t leave me hanging like you did with Y/N—what’s the truth?”

Sunghoon stands up, determination filling his veins like never before. “I like her—I’ve liked her for a very long time. I’ve been such a coward all this time. An idiot, all this while.”

Kangmin grins, leaning back on the floor. He sighs with content. “Now that’s what I’m talking about.”

Sunghoon turns to him with a furrowed brow. “Hey, I’m serious, Kangmin. I don’t know if I have a chance to fix this. But I’m going to try. I can’t just—I can’t just…let her go.”

The thought of losing you completely—of never getting the chance to be honest about his feelings, to be honest and open to you about what he’s been hiding in his heart—hits him harder than anything else. He grabs his smartphone, fingers already dialling your number before he even realises it. 

SUNGHOON stands on top of the hill, surrounded by yellow crimson trees and chilly air. He’s bundled up in a long trench coat, and the autumn wind is blowing through his hair. He called you to meet him here, telling you that he’s got something to discuss with you.

It hasn’t even been five minutes since he’s arrived, and he already sees you getting off the bus, running towards him. You reach him, crouching as you pant heavily to catch your breath. 

“What the hell, Hoon,” you say between heaves of breaths. “Also, are you okay? You’ve been a little off lately, is it hockey practice?”

Sunghoon shrugs. “Yeah. I-I’ve been quite tired with school and practice.”

“Okay… so, what’s up? You said you wanted to tell me something,” you ask Sunghoon. 

You look up to Sunghoon, realising how tall he is—you shake your head, wanting to stay resolute on the decision you made to move on. Waiting for Sunghoon to reply, you recall the email you sent him yesterday. It’s hard, and you know that—your heart still skips a beat whenever you see him smile, and your cheeks still turn pink whenever he calls you ‘princess’. 

Though, it’s been five years.

You’ve thought of it long and hard, and ultimately, you decide to slowly let your feelings go. You know that accepting that Sunghoon is never going to reciprocate the love you bear for him will make you feel lighter, little by little, and it will help calm your nerves from all the swirling thoughts of him, Jake, and everything else going on. However, you also know that it’s a challenging process that will take a long time to go through.

“It took me ten years to find the right words to say this,” Sunghoon begins, out of the blue, startling you. 

He pauses, his mouth slightly open, as if he’s hesitating to continue. As if he’s unsure of what to say first. 

“What?” you breathe, uncertain if you should be relieved or scared.

Sunghoon looks at you for a moment, and then his gaze softens. You’ve never seen him look so… vulnerable. There’s something different in the way he’s standing there, next to you against the cold autumn winds, like he's on the edge of a cliff. He closes his mouth, and opens it again, but nothing comes out.

A minute passes in silence, heavy and full of unspoken things. Finally, Sunghoon exhales shakily, his shoulders relaxing just a little as he begins to speak again.

“I read the emails.” 

His voice is barely above a whisper, but the words still land like a punch to the gut, its impact so big it knocks the breath out of you. “I had no idea. You’ve been... carrying this all alone, haven’t you?”

You’re caught off guard. You can’t look at him directly, your eyes flicker here and there, panic filling your nerves. The words tumble out before you can stop them. “Sunghoon, I—”

“No,” he interrupts, his voice gentle and his gaze is locked on yours, honest and raw. “I should’ve known. I should’ve seen it. I never noticed how much you’ve been giving. How much you’ve been waiting for me.”

You feel the tension tighten between you both, and something vulnerable stirs in your chest.

He saw the emails? 

Your heart begins to race. For a second, your mind is overwhelmed, but the sincerity in his eyes keeps you in place.

“I didn’t want to burden you with this, Hoon,” you finally manage to say, your voice shaky. “I thought it was better if I just… kept it inside. I thought we’re better off as friends. I didn't want to mess up what we had. I didn’t want to ruin our friendship. But… I can't help how I feel.”

Sunghoon’s gaze softens, his voice slow but determined. “Y/N, I should’ve told you a long time ago. I’ve been so stupid. I was afraid it’d ruin everything. I–oh my gosh,” he ruffles his hair aggressively, pacing here and there before finally stopping in front of you, his stance determined.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he demands, his voice cracking.

A warm tear falls down your cheeks, sending goosebumps throughout your body. You didn’t even realise you had been crying. “Because I was scared,” you quietly answered, your voice hoarse. 

Silence. 

The wind flutters between the two of you, stinging against your skin. 

“I… I feel the same way.” 

His words are almost fragile, like he's unsure whether to say them or not. “I’ve always felt the same. I just… never brought it up… until now. But I’m here now. And I’m finally being honest with you. I’m not going anywhere.”

Your tongue goes numb. Everything’s hitting you at the same time, crushing you under its pressure. 

Sunghoon watches you intently, waiting for a response. Getting no answer from you, he takes a step forward. 

“Y/N,” he calls softly. “Princess, answer me.”

Tears begin to rapidly fall down your cheeks, your vision blurring, a response to the culmination of years of suppressed emotions. Your shoulders begin to heave up and down as you sob silently. Sunghoon’s frown falters, and he pulls you into a hug. It’s comforting, warm, and feels like home—perfectly where you always wanted to be. 

“I’m sorry, princess, it took me so long to realise,” he mutters, placing his chin on top of your head. 

“I’ve waited for five years, Hoon,” you sob against his chest. Sunghoon smiles softly, rubbing soothing circles on your back. 

“It’s okay, it’s okay, I’m here now,” he replies, “I’ll be here for you till the end of time.”

“I’ve always wanted to be the one for you, Y/N,” Sunghoon says, and your heart begins to race in disbelief.

“N-no,” you reply with a suppressed laugh, “I thought I was alone in this.”

“No,” Sunghoon shakes his head, “no, Y/N, you were never alone in this.”

“We don’t have to figure everything out right now.” Sunghoon says quietly, “I just want you to know I’m here. We’ll take it slow, okay?” 

You nod, still in his embrace. 

Like autumn, the wind rustling through the trees and golden leaves falling around them—the atmosphere around you and Sunghoon is changing. The world is moving on, yet the moment is special, as if it’s frozen in time. 

THE scent of roasted chestnuts and warm bungeo-ppang fills the crisp winter air. Around you, the night market is bustling, filled with clouds of steamy breaths and people bundled under thick coats and scarves, lined up just to buy their favourite winter treats. 

You stare at the bungeo-ppang in your hands, then at Sunghoon, who’s standing in front of you. 

“You brought me here, away from the comfort of my warm blanket, just to buy me this?” 

Sunghoon shrugs, biting into his own fish-shaped pastry. “You always wanted the most fresh, warm, and crispiest one, so I made sure to get the best for you.”

You narrow your eyes. “You’re bribing me to like you back, aren’t you?”

He smirks. “Maybe. Is it working?”

You roll your eyes, scoffing. You bite a piece out of your bungeo-ppang, looking up at Sunghoon. Your heart stutters, catching the way Sunghoon is looking at you—soft, patient, like you’re someone worth waiting even a thousand years for. 

You slowly chew the contents of your mouth, cheeks warm, but you still keep your eye contact. 

Then, almost too casually, Sunghoon says, “I want to be your first and last love.”

Your eyes bulge, and you cough as you try not to choke. Your breath catches in your throat, your fingers freezing mid-motion. The words, sudden yet sincere, hang around you and Sunghoon, light but unbelievably heavy. 

You begin to smile. You stuff a piece of bungeo-ppang into Sunghoon’s mouth. “That was so cheesy.”

Sunghoon laughs, his eyes crinkling into crescent moons. He barely manages to chew before he replies, “but you liked it.”

You don’t answer. 

Instead, you tug him down by his scarf and kiss him. 

The bungeo-ppang in your hand, your favourite winter snack, is forgotten the moment the distance between you and Sunghoon, your favourite person, closes, and his warmth melts into your own.

― © htaesan, 2025.

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