#see I can do comfort it’s not JUST angst—

[meazalykov]

used and discarded

barcelona femeni x f!reader with features of romantic!esmee brugts x f!reader, platonic!alexia putellas x f!reader, and platonic!kika nazareth x f!reader.

warnings: abandonment, r being used, alcohol/getting drunk, r being put in a dangerous situation, angst but comforting

there was loud music, crowded spaces, or overpriced drinks in the city center of barcelona. 

one thing about you, you were never one to turn down a night out, not because you particularly enjoyed it but because you loved spending time with people. 

at least, that’s what you thought.  

your college friends had invited you out, something they didn’t do often, at least not unless they needed something from you. you didn’t think like that though. you just figured they were busy, and when they did ask you to come out, you were happy to say yes.  

so, here you were, sitting at a bar in the center of barcelona, your friends all huddled around a small table. your presence alone had drawn attention; a few people had recognized you when you walked in, whispering amongst themselves about how one of barcelona’s midfielders were in the building.

“y/n, let’s take a picture,” lee, the one who had invited you out, grinned, sliding into the seat next to you.  

“huh? oh, sure,” you said, barely processing before she was already adjusting her phone’s camera.  

you weren’t even sure what the picture was for, but you didn’t question it, simply smiling as she leaned in. after a few clicks, she was already typing away on her phone, most likely uploading it to her instagram story.  

you had barely touched your drink, still nursing your first one while everyone else was already onto their second or third. you didn’t mind, though. you were used to staying in control.  

“sooo,” lee dragged out, setting her phone down, “any chance you can get us into that club you went to with your teammates last week?”  

you blinked, recalling the team outing at a private lounge that had required special reservations. 

“oh… i don’t know. alexia was the one who set it up.”  

“you could ask, though, right?”  

“i mean, i could, but i think it was a one-time thing…”  

“come on, y/n,” another one of your friends, sophie, pouted, “you have connections. just ask.”  

you hesitated. you didn’t like using your status for favors, and you definitely didn’t like asking alexia for something that would obviously annoy her. you didn’t want to say no, either. you had a hard time with that.  

“i’ll see,” you finally said, earning a satisfied grin from sophie.  

before you could dwell on it, your phone buzzed on the table. you glanced down, seeing a text from kika.  

kika: you still out?  

you furrowed your brows, replying quickly.  

you: yeah, why?  

she read the message immediately. then, the typing bubble appeared before disappearing. a few seconds later, another message popped up.  

kika: just wondering. don’t get too drunk, bebé.  

you smiled at the nickname, a warmth settling in your chest. kika was always looking out for you, she was your best friend on the team.  

“who’s that?” sophie leaned over, glancing at your phone screen before you could lock it.  

“kika,” you answered easily.  

“ugh,” another friend, laura, groaned and rolled her eyes, “she doesn’t like us.”  

“what?” you asked, confused.  

sofía laughed, shaking her head, “y/n, you’re so oblivious. your teammates hate us.”  

your stomach twisted slightly at that. 

“they don’t hate you.”  

“they do,” laura insisted, “especially the famous one alexia. she glares at us every time she sees us with you.”  

“yeah, and your girlfriend esmee? she never even speaks to us.”  

you frowned. you had never noticed that. sure, alexia could be intimidating, but she wasn’t rude. and esmee was just… esmee. she wasn’t overly social to begin with. not since you started dating her over a year ago.

“maybe you’re imagining it,” you tried to reason.  

sophie smirked. 

“sure, y/n. keep telling yourself that.”  

the conversation moved on, but the thought lingered in your mind. was that really true? did your teammates really dislike your friends? why hadn’t they told you?  

you had no way of knowing that they had told you, just not directly. they had made snide comments, given you looks, even subtly tried to pull you away from your college friends and find better one. you, ever the optimist, had brushed it off every time. it wasn’t until you left the bar a couple of hours later to go to another one with all of your friends. 

the next club had flashing neon lights everywhere, the bass-heavy music that made your heart vibrate, and the taste of alcohol on your tongue. your friends had pulled you onto the dance floor, your laughter mixing with theirs as you all jumped to the beat of whatever song was blasting through the speakers. 

arms were thrown over shoulders, drinks raised in cheers, and cameras constantly flashing as you posed for pictures that you would probably only remember through instagram stories the next morning.  

it felt good to be carefree for once and to be normal. no football, no training schedules, no expectations…just you and your college friends, blending into the crowd. they hyped you up as you downed another shot, playfully teasing you when you scrunch your face at the burn. 

sophie had draped an arm around your shoulders at one point, grinning as she said, "this is so much better than all that football stuff, right? just us, no stress."  

you had laughed, nodding, "well i don’t knowwww this is just fun."  

now, standing in front of the mirror in the bar’s bathroom, you weren’t so sure.  

your reflection stared back at you…swollen cheeks, slightly unfocused eyes, hair a little messier than you remembered. you swallowed hard, gripping the sink as the dizziness hit you all at once.  

"shit," you mumbled, splashing cold water on your face.  

you had training tomorrow. well, later today, technically. afternoon practice, but still. your coaches always told you that recovery was just as important as training itself but here you were, drunk off your ass, wobbling slightly as you turned off the sink.  

oh well. it was one night. you barely go out anyways. so pushing the thought aside, you dried your hands and pulled out your phone, the screen nearly blinding you in the dim lighting.  

1:34 a.m

you sighed, tucking your phone into your pocket before pushing the door open and stepping back into the main part of the bar. the air was thick with the scent of sweat, spilled drinks, and cheap cologne. the music pounded in your ears, and the crowd had only grown since you left.  

you expected to see your friends still dancing, still drinking, still having the time of their lives. as you looked around, scanning the room, something felt… off.  they weren’t at the table where you last saw them. they weren’t by the bar either.  

your stomach twisted slightly as you wove through the crowd, bumping into people as you checked each corner of the bar. maybe they had gone outside for fresh air? maybe they had moved to a different section?  

after ten minutes of searching, the pit in your stomach deepened.  

they were gone.  

pulling out your phone, you quickly tapped into the group chat.  

you: where did you guys go?  

no response.  

you bit your lip, stepping up to the bar counter, trying to steady yourself as you leaned in toward the bartender. 

"um, excuse me?"  

the bartender, a middle-aged woman who looked like she had seen it all with her blue hair and tired eyes, barely glanced at you as she wiped down the counter, "yeah?"  

"did you see a group of girls? they were all wearing black, and one of them had, uh, purple hair?"  

she nodded, "yeah, they left about fifteen, twenty minutes ago."  

you blinked, "oh. are you sure?"  

she finally looked at you then, raising a brow, "yeah, kid. saw them walk out together. didn’t see them come back."  

your lips parted slightly, almost offended since you were called a kid but no words came out. you stood there, frozen, gripping your phone a little tighter as the reality of the situation slowly sank in.  

they left without you and without telling you.  

quickly, you opened your messages again, typing another text.  

you: did you guys leave??  

the three dots appeared, then disappeared. your stomach dropped. another few seconds passed. then, one by one, you watched as your messages were marked as read.  

no response.  

you stared at the screen, heart pounding.  

they left you. they actually left you. 

you looked around the bar again, as if expecting them to magically reappear, to jump out and tell you it was just a joke. unfortunately, they weren’t there. the people around you were strangers, caught up in their own worlds, unaware of the sinking feeling in your chest.  

your breath hitched as you tried to reason with yourself. maybe they thought you had already left. maybe they were too drunk and forgot to text you.  deep down, you knew the truth.  

they didn’t care.  

they had used you for pictures, for attention, for the free drinks you had bought earlier in the night. they had laughed with you, danced with you, but when the time came to actually care about you, they had walked out without a second thought.  

your hands trembled slightly as you locked your phone, shoving it into your pocket. you suddenly felt so stupid for believing they were your real friends and for thinking they actually liked you. you hated yourself for letting yourself get this drunk and careless when you had training tomorrow.  

the realization hit you like a truck.  

you were alone.

your fingers trembled as you gripped the edge of the table, trying to steady yourself. deep breaths. in through your nose, out through your mouth. it wasn’t working. your chest was tight, your vision was swimming, and the realization that you were completely alone in a barcelona bar at nearly 2 a.m only made it worse.  

you swallowed hard, blinking rapidly as tears threatened to spill. you were not going to cry here. not in front of all these strangers and not where anyone could see you breaking down.  

so you did the only thing you could think of, you got up on shaky legs and pushed through the crowd, stumbling your way back to the bathroom. once inside, you locked yourself in the farthest stall and collapsed onto the closed toilet seat, pulling your knees to your chest as the first sob broke free.  

this wasn’t fair.  

you just wanted to feel normal, to have a life outside of football. was that too much to ask? unfortunately, this is what you got for trusting people, for believing that they actually cared about you. you frowned realizing that your teammates were right.  

you hiccupped, wiping your face with the sleeve of your hoodie, but the tears wouldn’t stop. you had never felt so stupid in your life. your phone buzzed in your lap, and for a moment, you debated ignoring it. when you sniffled and glanced down, your blurry vision barely made out the contact name ‘esmee <3’ and a tiktok link she had sent.  

your breath hitched. she was awake and without thinking, you clicked on her contact and hit call.  

it rang once.  

twice.   

“hey,” esmee’s voice came through, casual, like she hadn’t just been sent into a call unexpectedly from her girlfriend at 2 o’clock in the morning. 

“are you good?”  

the second you heard her voice, everything inside you cracked open.  

“esmee,” you choked out, your words tumbling over each other in a drunken panic, “i— i’m scared, i don’t–i-i i don’t know where i am, i was just having fun and then they.. fuck! they left me and i can’t find them and i-i- i don’t know how to get home..”  

“hey, hey, slow down” esmee’s voice sharpened, her usual laid-back tone replaced with concern and fear after hearing your cries, “where are you?”  

you squeezed your eyes shut, pressing your forehead against your knee. 

“some bar. near the beach. a..um.. an old fashioned speakeasy like bar, i think? i don’t know which one.”  

“okay,” esmee said, her voice calm but urgent, “send me your location, yeah? you know how to do that?”  

you nodded quickly before realizing she couldn’t see you. 

“y-yeah,” you stammered, but when you tried to exit the call and open the app, your fingers felt clumsy, your mind sluggish from the alcohol.  

“shit, hold on,” you muttered, fumbling with your phone.  

“you got it, love?” esmee asked, softer now, but still worried.  

“i.. um? i think? wait!”  

you cursed under your breath as you clicked the wrong thing twice, your breathing getting quicker the longer it took. finally, finally, you managed to send her your live location.  

“got it,” she confirmed almost immediately, “okay, i’m coming. just stay on the phone with me, alright?”  

you sniffled, “i.. i’m so sorry, es. i didn’t mean to wake you up!”  

“you didn’t wake me,” she interrupted, “i was already up waiting for you to get home safely before i went to sleep...”  

you couldn’t stop apologizing. the shame, the embarrassment, the fear…it was all too much. it was then when another thought slammed into you like a freight train.  

alexia.  

your breath hitched, and fresh tears welled in your eyes.  

“esmee,” you whimpered, “am i gonna get in trouble?”  

she hesitated for a second. 

“what do you mean?”  

“alexia,” you choked out, “she’s gonna be so mad. i— we have training tomorrow and now i— i’m drunk and stupid and i…”  

your voice cracked as sobs overtook you again.  

“hey, hey, stop that,” esmee said quickly, “we’ll deal with that later, okay? i’ll talk to her.. right now, i just need you to breathe. i’m on my way. just hold on for me, alright?”  

you tried, you really did. however, you couldn’t stop crying.  

“it’s gonna be okay,” esmee reassured you, voice unwavering, “just stay with me. i’m coming to get you.”

esmee arrived faster than you thought possible. by the time you stepped out of the bar, still clutching your phone with shaky fingers, she was already getting out of her car, eyes scanning the drunk and hyped up crowd until they locked onto you.  

“y/n,” she breathed out in relief, rushing toward you.  

you sniffled, rubbing your arms, the cold night air making your already trembling body shake even more. esmee’s face softened as she took in your red-rimmed eyes, the way you were shivering not just from the weather but from the way the alcohol was leaving your system too fast.  

without a second thought, she shrugged off her jacket and draped it over your shoulders. 

“oh my, you’re freezing,” she muttered, rubbing your arms through the fabric. you swallowed hard, feeling your throat close up. 

“i-i didn’t know what to do,” you admitted in a small, broken voice.  

esmee sighed, her expression a mix of frustration and concern.

 “it’s okay, you’re safe now,” she reassured, looping an arm around your waist. 

“come on, let’s get you to the car.”  

she guided you toward the passenger side, opening the door and helping you in before buckling your seatbelt for you when she noticed your fingers weren’t cooperating. once she was sure you were settled, she jogged around to the driver’s side, getting in and turning up the heat the second she started the engine.  

you curled into yourself, esmee’s jacket engulfing you as you tried to stop the shivers wracking your body.  

“i’m taking you to mine,” esmee announced as she pulled out of the parking lot, “i don’t feel good about leaving you alone like this.”  

you didn’t argue. you couldn’t. you just nodded, eyes unfocused as you stared at the dashboard.  

the drive was quiet, except for the occasional sniffle from you and the sound of esmee tapping her fingers against the steering wheel, deep in thought. when you arrived, esmee wasted no time guiding you inside, kicking off her shoes as she led you to the bathroom. 

“you should shower,” she told you gently, already reaching for a fresh towel from the shelf, “it’ll help you feel better.”  

you nodded numbly, taking the towel from her hands. before you could turn away, she added, “i put a t-shirt of mine and some sweatshorts on the counter for you. they’ll be warmer than what you have on.”  

you swallowed back another wave of emotion, touched by her care. 

“thank you, es. i love you.”  

she gave you a small, reassuring smile. 

“i love you too. take your time, okay?”  

you took a longer shower than you intended, letting the hot water soak into your skin and wash away the night. when you finally emerged, dressed in esmee’s warm, oversized clothes, she was waiting for you in the kitchen with a glass of water and a packet of vitamin c on the counter.  

“drink,” she instructed, sliding the glass toward you.  

you did as told, drinking slowly, your hands still trembling slightly around the cup.  

when you finished, esmee nodded approvingly and motioned toward the her bedroom. 

“come on, let’s get you to bed.”  

you followed her, exhaustion settling deep in your bones. the moment you curled up under the blankets, your body felt heavier, your eyelids drooping almost immediately.  esmee crouched beside you, tucking a strand of damp hair behind your ear. 

“get some sleep, yeah? we have training tomorrow.”  

your stomach clenched at the mention of training. will alexia get super mad for your irresponsibility?

esmee seemed to read your mind. 

“don’t worry about anything right now,” she said softly, “just sleep.”  

you nodded sluggishly, already halfway to unconsciousness. once your breathing evened out, esmee sat back on her heels, exhaling slowly. the dutch woman’s gaze flickered toward her phone.  

should she call alexia?  

es’ fingers hovered over the screen, debating. if she didn’t tell her, alexia would find out eventually. and if you didn’t say anything, esmee would.  

she locked her phone with a sigh.  

tomorrow. she’d deal with it tomorrow.

fourteen hours later and training felt like a nightmare. your body moved, your legs carried you through drills, your passes were sharp and physically you were fine. however you felt destroyed mentally. you were barely holding it together.  

the people you thought were your friends had left you and abandoned you in the middle of the night, drunk, alone, in a city that wasn’t really your home. yes, you’ve played at barcelona for two seasons so far but you did not grow up here. the more you thought about it, the worse it hurt and it was obvious to your team.  

you weren’t laughing at vicky’s jokes like usual. when salma hugged you, you barely hugged back.when  patri nudged you playfully at one point, expecting you to counter her with one of your usual surprise tackles, but you just stared at her blankly before looking away.  

the energy you normally carried was gone and alexia noticed, of course she did.  

she watched you closely throughout training, her brows furrowed every time she caught the vacant look in your eyes or the way your jaw clenched like you were holding something in. she had asked you once,

"you okay?" 

and you had lied to her,  

"yeah, i’m fine."

esmee, stretching beside you, visibly cringed at the words. she knew the truth. she had seen you break down in her living room hours ago, your voice cracking as you admitted how scared you had been, how stupid you felt for trusting them. she didn’t say anything, not yet, not until after training.  

when the session finally ended, you trudged off the field, heading toward the locker room before anyone could pull you aside but alexia was faster.  

“y/n,” she called, her voice leaving no room for argument.  

you turned around, your heartbeat picking up when you saw the sharp look in her eyes, “yeah?”  she stared at you for a moment, like she was waiting for you to break on your own. when you didn’t, she took a slow breath and asked again, “are you okay?”  

the same question but this time, her voice was firmer.  

you swallowed, forcing yourself to nod. 

“yeah. just tired.”  

the blonde woman’s eyes narrowed slightly, but before she could press further, esmee stepped in.  

“alexia,” esmee said, voice calm but firm.  

alexia turned to her, raising an eyebrow.  

esmee sighed, rubbing the back of her neck knowing that you would not tell alexia the truth out of embarrassment. 

“can i talk to you? privately.”  

alexia’s gaze flickered back to you briefly before she nodded. 

“of course.”  

you watched as esmee led her a few steps away, out of earshot. your stomach twisted, knowing exactly what was coming next.  

esmee exhaled deeply before starting. 

“she’s not okay,” she said flatly.  

alexia crossed her arms, “i know that. i’m just waiting for her to tell me the truth.”  

esmee shook her head. 

“she won’t.” she paused before continuing, “she went out with her college friends last night and got really drunk.”  

alexia’s jaw tightened.  

“and they left her,” esmee added, voice dropping slightly, “like…literally left her alone in a bar, drunk, with no way home.” alexia’s expression darkened immediately, “what?”  

esmee nodded grimly, “she called me in a panic at almost two in the morning. crying, scared out of her mind. she didn’t even know where she was at first. she could barely get her location to send.”  

alexia’s hands clenched into fists at her sides.  

“she is staying at my home for a while,” esmee continued, “i am making sure that she is okay, as her girlfriend and all. this morning wasn’t good at all, she is messed up about it. i mean, imagine thinking these people are your friends and then they just leave you when you’re at your most vulnerable. gosh it makes me want to tackle them and make sure that my cleat hits their shin or something..”  

alexia exhaled slowly, trying to keep her composure, “why didn’t you guys tell me this happened?”  

esmee hesitated, “because she’s embarrassed and because she didn’t want you to be disappointed in her.”  

alexia ran a hand through her hair, exhaling sharply, “i’m not disappointed. i’m fucking furious…not at her, at those fucking smartasses.”  

esmee nodded, “yeah. me too.”  

alexia’s gaze flickered back to where you were sitting on the bench, staring down at your hands, looking so small and tired.  

“she needs to hear it from you,” esmee said gently, “that you’re not mad at her since she won’t believe me when i tell her.”  

alexia nodded, setting her jaw, “i’ll talk to her.”  

esmee clapped a hand on her shoulder, “good. and, uh… maybe be soft about it, yeah?”  

alexia rolled her eyes, but there was no real annoyance there, “i can be soft, you know.”  

esmee smirked, “mm-hmm. you better be.”  

alexia took a deep breath and started walking toward you.

however, you were gone.

you didn’t bother waiting for cooldown stretches, didn’t linger in the locker room like usual, didn’t stay to laugh with the team or chat about plans for the rest of the day. the second the coach dismissed you, you grabbed your bag and sprinted out, ignoring the confused voices calling after you.  

"now what was that about?" aitana muttered, glancing at kika.  

kika frowned, her confusion mirroring the rest of the team’s. when she turned to esmee and alexia, her brows furrowed even further at the way they shared a look…one that screamed ‘we know exactly what’s wrong.’  

“what the fuck happened?” kika asked, her gaze darting between them.  

neither alexia nor esmee answered.  

instead, alexia let out a slow breath, eyes still fixed on the exit you had just bolted through. 

by the time you reached your apartment, your entire body ached…not from training, but from exhaustion, from the emotional weight sitting heavy in your chest. you barely registered the way your hands trembled as you unlocked the door, throwing your bag onto the couch before heading straight to the bathroom.  

the second the hot water hit your skin, you broke.  

sobs wracked through you, the sound bouncing off the shower tiles as you clutched your chest, feeling like you were falling apart. you had already blocked them, every single one of them on every social media platform, and on your phone, making sure that you cut them out of your life.  however, it didn’t make you feel any better because no matter how much you tried to erase them, the damage was done.  

they had left you drunk, alone, and vulnerable. you could’ve been hurt. you could’ve been taken advantage of. the more you thought about it, the more sick you felt. were they laughing about it now? did they think it was funny? did they plan to do that to you?  

you squeezed your eyes shut, pressing your forehead against the shower wall, trying to drown the thoughts out with the sound of the water. however, nothing helped. by the time you ran out of tears, your chest physically ached. you dried yourself off, threw on a pair of pajamas, and crawled into bed.  

it was barely 5 p.m., but you didn’t care. last night had given you almost no sleep, and all you wanted was to escape into unconsciousness but just as your body started to relax, the doorbell rang rapidly… over and over.  

your stomach dropped.  

no. you squeezed your eyes shut, willing whoever it was to just go away but the ringing didn’t stop. with a heavy, exhausted sigh, you dragged yourself out of bed, pulling your hoodie tighter around you as you made your way to the door.  

the second you opened it, your heart nearly stopped.  

your girlfriend. alexia. kika.  

fuck.  

you swallowed, gripping the door handle tightly, too drained to even process the why behind their presence but without a word, you stepped aside, letting them in.  

you barely had time to turn before alexia was on you, wrapping you in a tight embrace, her arms locking around your shoulders.  

“why would they do this to you?” her voice cracked slightly, thick with emotion.  

your chest clenched. your breath hitched. and just like that…you broke all over again. a choked sob escaped your throat as you clung to alexia, your fingers digging into the back of her shirt as you cried into her shoulder.  

“i- i don’t know,” you hiccupped, shaking your head against her, “i don’t know what i did to them… why they hate me?”  

“they don’t hate you,” kika interrupted firmly, gently pulling you toward the couch, “they’re just terrible and evil people. and you did nothing to deserve that.”  

you let yourself sink into the cushions, your body feeling heavy from exhaustion and heartbreak.  kika sat beside you, rubbing soothing circles into your back, while esmee… who had been quiet up until now since she moved beside you, wrapped an arm around your shoulders while giving light kisses on your shoulder blade.  

“that was maybe the scariest moment of my life,” you admitted quietly, voice hoarse from crying, “i was so drunk… i didn’t know where i was… and they just left me. i should’ve just stayed my ass home.”  

esmee squeezed you tighter, her warmth comforting against your shaking body. “you’re safe now,” she murmured, “they don’t get to hurt you anymore.”  

alexia, who had taken a seat on the coffee table in front of you, reached forward, gently tucking a strand of damp hair behind your ear. “listen to me,” she said, her voice steady despite the storm of emotions in her eyes. “you are not trash. you are not disposable. they used you because you’re kind, because you give without expecting anything in return and that’s not a flaw, y/n. that’s what makes you, you. you just have to learn how to set boundaries..”  

you sniffled, looking down at your lap, “it doesn’t feel like a good thing right now.”  

alexia’s fingers tilted your chin up, forcing you to meet her gaze. 

you swallowed hard, more tears welling in your eyes, “but how do i stop feeling like this?”  

“time,” kika said softly, still rubbing your back, “and us. we’re not letting you go through this alone.”  

esmee kissed the top of your head, “no more shitty friends. you have the team, and you have me.”  

you exhaled shakily, nodding, even though your chest still ached.  

kika stood suddenly, stretching before heading toward the kitchen, “i’m making you tea. you need something warm in you.”  

“cabinet above the sink,” you mumbled, sniffling again.  

“got it,” kika called back.  

alexia stayed in front of you, her fingers absentmindedly playing with your hair as she continued to study you, as if trying to will away all of your pain just by being there.  

“i should’ve noticed sooner,” alexia murmured, voice laced with guilt.  

you shook your head quickly. 

“it’s not your fault, alexia.”  

she clenched her jaw, clearly not convinced. but instead of arguing, she simply sighed and leaned back slightly.  

“you’re staying with esmee for while,” she decided firmly.  

“yes! you might as well move in with me at this point since we’ve been talking about it. i don’t want you to be alone right now either...” esmee interrupted before you could object. 

you nodded weakly, whispering while looking at your girlfriend, “okay.”  

masterlist

author's note: this is my 1000th post lol

[rafesbuzzcutseason]

chasing city lights

chapter 22 - every word

synopsis: you move to new york to start fresh, hoping to find comfort in the city’s atmosphere. that’s when you meet sarah cameron, where she takes you to a concert and you catch sight of the lead band member, rafe cameron. it only takes a moment for you to realize you’re captivated by him. as sarah helps you navigate your new life in the city, you start to get pulled deeper into rafe's world—the music, the fame, the chaos. the more you get to know him, the more you realise that rafe is not just the rock star he seems to be. he’s wrestling with his own demons, and the last thing he needs is someone like you getting close.

masterlist

cw: language, angst, sorry this is more fic i had to get it out

✧˖ °. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ ☾. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖°✧

you had just settled down for the evening, having spent the day with kie you were feeling happy and ready to unwind for bed, until you heard a knock on your door.

a wave of panic rushed over you, as the knocking only increased in desperation.

you got up and looked out the window, just to see:

rafe.

what the fuck was he doing here.

you stood there, frozen in your position with your heart hammering in your chest.

another knock. louder this time.

“y/n, please open the door.”

your fingers twitched at your sides, reaching for the door knob.

how fucking dare he show up here after everything?

you yanked the door open so fast he took a step back, eyes widening slightly at your appearance.

you looked good, and from the way his gaze flickered over you, you knew he saw it too.

“what the fuck do you want, rafe?”

his jaw tensed, hands clenching into fists at his sides. “y/n." he exhaled sharply, running a hand through his messy hair. “can we just—can we talk? please?”

“talk?” you scoffed, crossing your arms. "now you want to talk? after you've seen me doing good?"

rafe’s eyes darkened, his whole body tensing. “y/n, it’s not what you think.”

you shook your head, letting out a laugh. “it never is, is it?”

his jaw twitched, struggling to keep his composure. he wasn't expecting you to be angry. “that picture—”

“don’t.” you held up a hand. “i don’t want to hear it.”

he stepped closer, his voice dropping. “it’s not what it looked like.”

you let out a sharp breath, forcing yourself to meet his sad gaze. “you think that changes anything?” your voice wavered, but you steadied it. “you didn’t call, rafe. you didn’t text. not once.”

his lips parted like he wanted to argue, "you broke up with me. what was i supposed to do?"

“you let me sit in that heartbreak alone,” you whispered, voice laced with so much anger it nearly scared you. “you didn't even try. and then i wake up to you kissing another girl?"

rafe shook his head quickly. “i was drunk, y/n-"

“no.” you clenched your jaw, gripping the door like it was the only thing keeping you steady. “let me finish. you don’t get to show up here and act like you give a shit. you don't get to release this fucking song like it'll win me back."

his eyes searched yours, something breaking in his expression. “i do give a shit,” he said, voice softer now, almost desperate. “i still- that song, i meant every word.”

“no.” you stepped back, “i don’t want to hear it.” tears threatening to spill. "you didn't even fight for me." you whispered.

rafe's heart dropped at that, he took another step forward, his voice, desperate. “y/n, please. i messed up. i know i did. but you have to believe me, that song, that was real. we were real. everything you think happened, didn't happen. i only ever wanted you, only ever loved you. fuck, still love you.”

your chest ached, like he was physically pulling at the wound he left in you. part of you wanted to believe it. but another part, the part that still felt the sting of betrayal, the part that had spent weeks crying over him, knew better.

“i don’t care.” the lie tasted bitter on your tongue.

his face fell those words punching him in the stomach. “yes, you do.”

you swallowed, you couldn't look at him. “you let me go.”

his lips parted, but no words came out. he tried to step closer, take your hand in his. you almost let him.

tears started to well up in rafe's eyes, and the sight made you want to break.

"why did you kiss her rafe? did i mean that little?" you questioned, voice shaking.

"no y/n, that isn't it." he started.

"then what is it?"

"i was so drunk."

"i know you were, i've already told you that isn't an excuse." anger burning inside you again.

"no y/n, i kissed her because-" his breath catching in his throat.

"spit it out rafe." your frustration rising.

"i thought it was you."

and just like that, the anger disappeared.

✧˖ °. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ ☾. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖°✧

a/n: i'm not done breaking your hearts just yet

taglist: @hoefordrewstarkey @marleymarleymarleymarley @bee-43 @cherryhoneybabe @skye-44 @drewrry @drewrry  @yesterdaysproblemm @dylsdaily @rafeysworldim19 @valyrianflower @kaiparkerwifes@judesgfirl@4urvalidation@chillgal135 @drewstarkeyslover@yesshewrites1@amterasuu@babykhloutofthisworld@blushmimi  @moonywhisp3rs @rafeysworldim19 @marleymarleymarleymarley@sabrina-carpenter-stan-account@vcnillafairy@bambii1i @sammyrenae68 @kittenjujusblog @bambii1i @thesunflowersociety @wtfdudesblog @voidangxls @jjmaybankmylovee @munsoncultedits @emmiesummers @darlingstarkey @sassyvillaintrophy  @pogueprincesa @stylestarkey @sodapopwaldor @hannaa20002000 @stelleduarte @davinashifts333

[thevillainswhore]

Deserving

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

Word Count: 3.2k

Summary: Bucky has internal scars too deeply imbedded that cause him to hide away from the world on the dark days. But he always knows, no matter how long he takes, you’ll forever be waiting for him on the other side — the light to bring him home.

Warnings: Established relationship, angst, hurt/comfort, mental health, themes of depression, nudity (non sexual), depreciation/self esteem issues, Bucky is seriously sad, fluff.

Author’s Note: Proofread by @buck-star. Divider by @saradika-graphics. This is a little bit of a heavy one folks ❤️‍🩹 not usually my thing, but after a difficult couple of months I needed to get this out. My inboxes are always open for those who are struggling with their mental health, thank you for reading x

“How long has he been locked in there?” Steve’s concerned voice interrupts the silence of the compound late at night while you sit at the kitchen table, aimlessly stirring your now cold tea. 

You clear your throat and look up, the anxiety visibly courses through your features just as it does your friend. “Just over a week now, I think.” 

Steve sighs. “It’s gotten bad again.” 

You hum, unable to muster up anything else. It had been seven days of constant worry since the moment you had woken up on that first day to find the warm heap of muscle that usually tangled its limbs with yours wasn’t next to you in bed, but rather instead locked away in the bathroom. 

Bucky insists it’s what’s best for him; to shut himself from the world when his thoughts become dark and his nightmares come back from the dead to haunt him. But it was difficult to let him wallow in depression by himself, knowing his self destructive tendencies enjoy the hacking to his self esteem. 

Steve shuffles his weight between his feet, looking unsure of himself. “Shouldn’t we intervene by now?” He steps further into the kitchen and sits on the chair opposite you. “Surely we can’t let him continue like this.” 

You smile ruefully and push your mug to the side. “Steve, honey,” you begin carefully. “I know you’re concerned because he’s your best friend. Trust me, it’s hard for me to sit here and wait it out too. But you can’t force someone out of the recesses of their mind when they get like this.” Sliding your arms across the table, you gather Steve’s hands in yours. “Especially not Bucky.” 

The look on his face breaks your heart. “I know, I know. I just hate seeing him like this”, he sighs sadly. “I hate the feeling of doing nothing while he’s struggling.”

“Me too, sweetie.” You squeeze his hands before leaning back in your chair. “All we can do is give gentle encouragement. Let him know we’re here whenever he’s ready.” 

Although the worry was all the same in these situations, you were well seasoned with how to maintain your distance for Bucky’s well being, while also showing your love from afar by now. For example, the meals you had left him every single day without fail outside of your shared room; his favourite comfort food with a sweet treat baked specifically by you to give him some energy. 

Or the blankets you love so much slipped into the room without breaking the promise of seeing Bucky before he was ready. Without looking, you would open the door and place the fluffy material by the floor. You also took the time to spray it with your daily perfume as a familiar comfort Bucky could relish in without your physical form. 

It broke your heart to be away from him for so long, even if you were in the same vicinity as each other — always only a distance away that you could run to within sixty seconds should he need you. However, you knew this was what he needed. After the first time this happened within your relationship and you had no idea what he needed from you during that time, the two of you had sat down and discussed how you could support him better going forward. 

“Don’t worry,” you reassure gently before moving away from the table and placing your mug into the sink. “He’ll come to, he always does. Just gotta give him some time.” 

“Will you—,” Steve swallows his words harshly before trying again. “Could you let me know if he’s okay when you hear something?” Almost silently, he adds, “Please?”

You realise then that this is Bucky’s best friend, the man who defied every order and rule book to save him — multiple times. There’s a vulnerability in his ocean blue eyes and your heart is happy that the love of your life has other people that adore him just as much as you do. You wish Bucky could see the extent as easily. 

Softening your eyes, you don’t divert your attention for a second as you sincerely swear, “Of course, Stevie. I’ll make sure FRIDAY gets a message to you.” 

Steve blows out a heavy breath, seemingly lighter than he was when he first came in. “Thank you.” 

You share a delicate smile, an understanding between teammates, friends and two people who love Bucky so immensely. You’re about to bid him good night, ready to retreat to your old room just down the hall from your shared one with Bucky when a set of footsteps, timid and apprehensive creep towards you. Steve turns his head at the same time as you to find the very man on both your minds. 

“Bucky.” The relief in your voice is loud and the tension that you hadn’t even realised was so tightly weaved into your limbs instantly relaxes at the sight of him. It takes everything in you to not run into his arms, not wanting to spook him, so you tamper your emotions and stay rooted in your place while your eyes greedily take him in for the first time in a week. “Hi, baby.” 

Your boyfriend, head down with his long, matted hair hiding his face, lifts his head slightly until a peek of storm grey meets your gaze. You clock the dark, heavy bags under his eyes, the paleness of his skin, the chapped lips that have been bitten restlessly. The clothes, stained with sweat marks, lay unusually baggy on his form. Normally, his shirts sit snug on the muscles of his biceps and his toned stomach and his sweatpants fit defined around his thick thighs. However in the week separated from him, Bucky has lost a fair amount of weight you conclude from lack of training and eating. 

Though his stature is hunched and he’s so desperately trying to hide away in plain sight, Bucky is here, visible and alive. He’s in front of you because he wants to be, you know that from past experience. He’s ready to let you in and take care of him even when the nasty voice in his head is telling him he doesn’t deserve it. You try so hard to swallow the lump in your throat and will the tears not to gather in your waterline. 

As Bucky clenches his fingers tightly, the whirring of his vibranium arm filling the silence of the kitchen, you know what he needs right now is for you to take charge. He’s not verbal yet, present but unable to speak and so you step forward slowly until you’re closer to him but not yet crowding his space. 

“How about we run you a bath, hm?” you offer softly, a suggestion rather than an order. While you’re trying to lead, you want him to set the pace — everything on his terms. “The warm water will feel nice on your muscles.” 

With a barely there nod of his head, Bucky accepts and you breathe a little easier knowing he’s still there, just a little lost. But it’s the subtle flex of his fingers, reaching out towards you that threatens to crack you. 

Carefully, you thread your fingers through his. You don’t miss the shudder that violently tracks down his back or the small gasp he lets loose. Your heart is becoming whole once again. 

Before leaving the kitchen, you glance at Steve still standing staring at his best friend. It’s then you stop and tentatively rub your thumb against Bucky’s hand. “Stevie wanted to ask you if you’d be up for a drive sometime soon. Doesn’t that sound good, honey? Taking your bike out for a spin?” 

Steve holds his breath as Bucky lifts his head slightly. “Mhm.” His voice is rough around the edges, the syllables straining against his dry throat. 

It's all he can offer right now. But from the looks of it, Steve’s eyes light up like he’s won the lottery. “Can’t wait, pal. I’m ready whenever you are, just let me know.” 

Your friend then looks to you, mouthing a silent thank you. You smile before ushering Bucky to your room. 

Bucky stands in the corner of the bathroom, looking smaller than you’ve ever seen him. He still hasn’t said anything, instead choosing to remain quiet for now. That was more than okay with you. You would rather slowly pluck away at the wall he’s built around himself and allow him to come forth smoothly. 

Meanwhile, you had rolled your sleeves up, running the water to fill the bathtub. You pick up two options of bubble bath and read them aloud to your boyfriend. “Okay. So we’ve got Lavender or Eucalyptus. Both are great for relaxation. You think you’d prefer one, baby?” 

Bucky doesn’t respond, his owlish eyes blinking at you. Though his actions threaten the well of emotions in your throat, you remain calm and soothing. “That’s alright, honey. We can just put a little of each in. Best of both worlds, huh?” 

Again, there’s no response. But you expect nothing more. You hold no expectations of him, only wanting to gently encourage him out of his shell, just like you’d told Steve earlier. 

You pour each liquid under the running faucet and instantly soapy bubbles begin to form on the surface of the water. Happy with the result, you turn each tap off and smile towards your boyfriend. “All done, Buck.” 

He stands there motionless, eyes darting between you and the bathtub, still making no move towards you. 

“Would you like some help, love?” You move slowly, each step intentionally attentive. “It’s difficult sometimes, to get your body moving, isn’t it?” 

Bucky nods. It's not much, but it's something and you can work with that. 

“Right. We all need help sometimes. No shame in that, Bucky.” You’re in front of him now, a hair's breadth away from each other and you’re thankful to be let into his space. “Would you like me to undress you?” 

The air is stilted as you wait for any kind of indication from Bucky. It’s to your surprise that a gentle whisper slips from his lips. “Please.” 

You hone down the tears bullying their way to the surface. Instead, you smile shakily. “Of course, baby. Anything you need.” 

Raising your hands cautiously, you bring them to Bucky’s eyeline, allowing him to follow each motion you make. You bring them slowly towards the hem of his shirt, lifting the material over his torso and with a small struggle over his shoulders to the top of his head. 

“All okay, Buck? Can I keep going?” You check in, wary of any stipulations to his emotions. Reading his eyes, you know you’re good to reach for his pants. And so you do, taking careful measures to not let your skin connect with his prematurely and without permission. 

With only Bucky’s underwear left, you take one last chance to gain consent. “Am I good to help you take those off? We can keep them on or I can turn around while you do it yourself if you’re not comfortable.” 

But Bucky needs no time before he whispers his fingers against yours. A sign of his authorisation for you to take the reins. 

“Sure thing, honey.” Just like before you send him a reassuring smile before inching the last piece of material down his thighs and finally away from his feet. He stands naked before you and you make sure to look nowhere else other than his eyes. “Thank you for allowing me to do that, Buck. Can I walk you to the bath now?” 

There’s a slight moment of hesitance before Bucky places one foot in front of the other, searching for your hold. Immediately, you place one arm around his back, the other wrapping around his hand. 

You step together in sync, slow for Bucky’s sake. “Great job, baby. You’re doing so good for me.” Once you reach the tub, you give some directions. “Okay, you’re gonna step in now and I’m going to be right here with you.” 

Bucky grasps your hand tighter. You know he’s scared you’re going to leave. Gently, you swipe his tangled hair behind his ear and cup his stubbled cheek. “I promise I’m not leaving. I’ll be right by your side, okay love?” 

You see him swallow the lump in his throat, Adam’s apple bobbing until he slackens his grip. Not before taking a deep breath, Bucky shakily lifts himself into the bathtub with your assistance and lowers himself into the water until his full body is submerged. 

“There we go.” Your pride for him is certain and absolute. You try your best to show him that. “Hard parts over with now, Buck. Now I can take care of you.” 

His pained groan echoes around the tiles of the bathroom. He’s hiding himself away from you but you’re eventually crumbling his defences down. 

“Let’s get this hair sorted out, huh? I’ll even let you use my shampoo you always steal.” The familiarity of your usual banter is a band aid to the wound so raw and open. Bucky was a fiend for thieving your most expensive toiletries — an excuse already lined up that no men’s products, no matter how costly, could match up to yours. 

Normally you would scold him, jumping into a shower after a prolonged mission only to find your shampoo empty with the bottle still placed on the rack. 

However, you would take those moments a thousand times over if it brought him even a slither of the happiness he supplied to you. 

It's then you run through your next steps with trained precision. You manage to run water over Bucky’s hair without getting any over his face, worried it may trigger him. You ignore the water in the bathtub, once transparent now a ruddy brown. And you silently open the bottle of shampoo, squeezing a generous amount onto your hands. 

“I’m about to climb in. Breathe for me, love.” You’re glad you wore shorts as you dip your foot into the water behind Bucky, swinging your leg over to sit on the ledge with your boyfriend between your thighs. A perfect position to stay close to him and provide him with the utmost care. 

Testing a tender touch upon his head and satisfied that Bucky is comfortable, you begin to lather the shampoo into his scalp. You relish in the grunts fighting their way through, the whimpers that climb up his throat, because this is the only way you know Bucky to finally cave in. Allow himself to be free from the shackles his mind clamps around him. Allow him to breach the prison he’s placed himself in. To come home to you. 

“That’s it, baby,” you murmur, purposely softening your voice to a gentle tone. “Let it out, I’ve got you. I’ll catch you.” 

As your nails scratch against his head, the first sob is released. You feel Bucky’s arms wrap around your thigh and his head lays itself upon you as his body begins to shake. You let him. The days worth of degradation and horror he’s allowed himself to relive escaping in this moment. 

“It's okay. Everything’s okay, Bucky.” It's a feat upon itself not to cry with him. A tear tracks down your cheek that you quickly wipe away with your shoulder because it’s your turn to be strong for him. To be the impenetrable wall he can lean on with the knowledge that he won’t fall. 

“I’m so sorry,” he weeps. You’re not sure whether he’s directing his words to you or someone else you’re not privy to. “I’m so fuckin’ sorry.” 

“Shh.” Your desire to make everything okay for him burns bright. “None of that now, okay? You’re here. With me. I’ve got you.” 

There’s a hole in his heart that’s never ending. Deep and wide and burrowed too far for anyone to try and stitch back together. You’ve tried. Though this kind of damage was irreparable. 

The good days always outweighed the bad. Bucky had come so far along in his healing journey for that to be untrue. But when the demons came out to play, there was no room for anyone else to hold a hand for him to grab on to. Bucky was dragged down into the dungeons of hell, locked away until the monsters had gotten their fix. 

Rinsing the soap out of his hair, Bucky’s wails begin to calm, the tidal wave having hit its peak and descending back down. You keep him close to you, no mind in how wet your clothes are, and quietly hum a tune. 

Your lullaby is eventually the only sound in the room, each note having the desired effect of soothing Bucky into a sense of peace. His limbs have loosened, his shoulders no longer stiff. And you wait ever so patiently for him to break the ice. 

That moment comes when you reach for the bottle of conditioner, beginning to apply it to the ends of Bucky’s hair. “Y-You’re so good to me.” While more stable, his voice still trembles. “Why are you so good to—to me?” 

You thin your lips, willing the cracks in your heart not to spread further than they already have. Grabbing the comb, you start to gently tease your way through the knots matting the strands of his chocolate locks. “That’s because you deserve it, baby,” you say confidently. “You deserve to be taken care of.” 

Bucky sighs, a heavy weight behind it. His next declaration falls from him quietly yet deafening. “Sometimes I don’t think I do.” 

“I know.” With a gentle push of your fingers underneath his chin, Bucky looks up at you, eyes sorrowful and still so beautiful. You lean down to kiss his forehead, then his nose and at last his lips. Against them, you seal your truth. “But believe me when I say it’s easy to love you. Like nothing else I’ve ever done before, no matter what goes on up here.” You tap by the side of his temple twice. “I’m in love with you on your bad days just as much as your good days. There’s no running away from that, Bucky. And I’ll prove that to you every single time, for as long as you need me to.”

His voice is hopeful when he strains out a choked, “Yeah?”” 

You hope your eyes display your conviction. “Every damn time, baby. I’ll bring you back to me.” 

Bucky’s eyes close at the sensation of your loving touch and promises. “I’d like that.” 

Kissing his lips one last time, you lean back up, setting aside the comb and grabbing the washcloth. Bucky stays unmoving, nuzzled into your thigh and so you begin to massage the muscle of his shoulders, humming your song once again. 

“Me too, Bucky.” 

You can’t fix him, you know that. Bucky is a man, tortured by memories and a past that stripped him of basic human rights. But you’re devoted to picking up the pieces he leaves behind, handing them over for him to glue back together. And if you found yourself slowly healing the cracks with your care and utter adoration for him for the rest of your life, you wouldn’t be mad about it. 

Because no matter what Bucky thought of himself, there was no doubt in your mind that he deserved your love. 

[mggslover]

Reflections pt. 2

In which Spencer sees himself in a suspect, making him willing to do anything to protect her.

PART 1

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader Genre: crime x angst x hurt/comfort Content warnings: post prisoner!spencer (but no spoilers since i’m not on that season yet, can contain inaccuracies), reader cuts longer hair short, guns, reader isn’t the best person, emotional, vague mentions of sa and suicide, kidnapping, fade to black smut (so suggestive content) Word count: 5,8k A/n: turning a supposed to be one shot into a series is more difficult than i anticipated lol. i’m hoping you guys will enjoy this part as much as the first one :) i'd love to hear your thoughts!!

Vibrant flashes of the pixelated scenes on TV reflected against the motel room walls. You were reminded of how your mother always used to say that watching television in the dark is damaging to your eyes. You never doubted her. Never felt the need to confirm her words by looking it up. It’s in human nature to trust one another. It is only when someone betrays you — or when you betray them — that trust gets damaged.  You sit on the edge of the bed, mindlessly picking at the loose printing of the Caltech shirt you’re wearing — Spencer’s Caltech shirt — as you watch the umpteenth news segment since you left the state. “Authorities are still on the lookout for a suspect following the poisoning of three men. The men were murdered at a college reunion that took place inside a bar, their bodies found just a street away. These promising young men had bright futures ahead of them, which were brutally robbed by this suspect–“

The screen flickered to your passport picture, showing a list of your physical descriptions on the right. 

“She’s believed to be armed and dangerous. Please, come forward if you have any information on her possible whereabouts. The FBI have stated that they will not stop their search until they have the suspect in custody. Justice will be served.”

With a scoff, you grab the remote, the screen fading to black with a simple click of your thumb. 

Young promising men, my ass. Hearing that sentence out loud left you with a bitter taste in your mouth, burning your throat as you swallowed. You let out a deep exhale, your body falling back onto the hard mattress with a thud, allowing the darkness to envelop you as your thoughts swirled through your head. 

Your whole life you had run away from the things that scared you, preferring to flee than live with the reality of the situation. You’d made the conscious decision to change your behaviour once you had decided to walk into that bar. But one thing led to another, and without being aware of it at the moment, you’d found yourself in the same situation: fleeing. Only this time around, it was different. This time you were on the run. And it wasn’t a question of if, but of when you’d be caught.

Ignoring the remorseless pounding in your head, you roll over the mattress. The cheap sheets rustled underneath you in protest as you threw your legs off the side. Your hand patted the bedside table until you felt the switch on the night lamp, turning it on. The room, as a result, illuminates in a soft, golden glow. 

Your eyes adjusted to the light, slowly taking in your surroundings. You noticed a large bookshelf against the right wall that you swore you hadn't seen before. Although your mind had been so clouded these past days that it wouldn’t be strange if you looked over it. Curiosity got the better of you, and with steady steps, you walked toward it. Eeny, meeny, miny, moe. The words played in your head as your fingers grazed against the dusty spines. When the melody came to its natural halt, you grabbed the book that your finger had landed on.

Gone Girl.

You scoffed a breathy laugh, “Obviously.” You held the book mockingly in the air, giving an ironic nod and tight-lipped smile toward the ceiling. “Thanks, universe.”

The irony hit you as you flipped through the pages. Maybe you’re more like the protagonist—Amy Dune—than you’d like to admit. Always having the need to orchestrate the outcome of your life, selfish enough to not care about the consequences it has for others. What if the universe is not trying to mock you, but merely giving you a hint? Were you supposed to change your appearance? It worked for Amy. 

Your feet carried you to the stuffy bathroom, the book still in hand. With your elbow, you turned on the light switch, cringing when you saw yourself in the mirror. The only sleep you’d gotten in the past days was in Spencer’s arms, and damn was it a good sleep. 

Sleeping with an FBI-agent sounded like a good plan. Well… at least to you. What are the chances of being a suspect in a crime, not being believed by anyone, and then being interrogated by a man who had heart eyes for you? There was no other option than to play into it, and you thanked yourself for taking those theater classes in high school. 

However, it wasn’t all a ploy. It affected you to have someone be so gentle with you, to have an absolute stranger care so much for your well-being. And when you kissed him… you knew your heart was involved too.

Still, your brain overpowered your feelings. The second you woke up, you knew you had to leave. They already knew about Natalie, and the more time you gave them, the more dirt they’d find on you. Taking that gun? Call it a precaution. Hijacking a car to get to the motel? Well, you stole it from a hobo. Could’ve been worse. 

“God,” you groaned, thinking back on the events of the past few days. You rubbed your eyes and dramatically slid your hands down your face.

Your eyes landed on the nail clipper placed on the sink. This is so, so bad. You placed the book down, then picked the item up, circling the cool metal around your fingers. The ghost of your face reflected back at you in the mirror. Oh, your hairdresser will kill you. But who will care if you’ll be locked away in prison, anyway? At least your humor was still working.

You brought the clipper to the ends of your hair, your thumb pressing down as you cut a lock. The sound sent shivers to your spine, a sour face impaled on you. 

“I swear to god Amy, don’t fail me with this,” you mumbled to the sky in a prayer. 

-`♡´-

3 Days Ago

Being frustrated was an understatement for the way Spencer was feeling. 

Once he left the bedroom, it took him less than a second to notice the slight gap between the cupboard doors. His pulse quickened, he stood frozen for a moment as he felt a tight knot form in his stomach. In a sudden rush, his senses came back to him. He took a leap toward the cupboard, slamming the doors open, and to his suspicion, he found the safe unlocked. His gun vanished in the same way as you had. 

He couldn’t help the string of curses that escaped his lips. His hands reached through his hair, tugging at the loose curls as his mind raced in every possible direction, none of them making sense. 

How could he have been so stupid? He’s a profiler, for Christ’ sake. It’s his job to read people, to see through their lies. His cheeks heated in embarrassment, recalling the disapproving looks of his team members when he told you that he believed in your innocence. 

You were innocent. At least, that’s what he thought. Now he wasn’t sure anymore. An innocent person wouldn’t run, and they especially wouldn’t steal the gun of a federal agent while they’re at it. 

He thought back on your arrest. It happened quickly. The team had received a call from someone at the reunion who had been taking a smoke break in an alley near the bar, the first to discover the bodies. Finding you was simple. Your behavior was suspicious on the camera footage. You looked nervous as you walked into the bar, wiping your clammy hands on your dress, scanning the room as if in search of something. When your eyes landed on the three men, your gaze grew cold. It wasn’t difficult to connect the dots when you rushed out of the emergency exit right after the men had accepted their poison-filled drinks. 

But now it was a completely different story. You could be anywhere. The uncertainty gnawed at him. He felt responsible for this, even though it wasn’t his decision to let you go. He’d been insistent on getting you out of that interrogation room as fast as he could. The guilt pressed down on him, the pressure on his ribcage accumulating with every second that passed. Every second that he didn’t do anything was another chance for you to run. Spencer had no choice but to call Hotch as he stepped into his Volvo. As much as he didn’t want to admit it, he didn’t know what you were capable of. 

-

Spencer made sure to evade Derek’s sharp glances as he walked through the bullpen, headed straight for the small flight of stairs. 

Hotch was standing at the door frame, waiting on him. He never had experienced being scolded by his parents, but this sure seemed like a similar situation. Spencer swallowed, his hands tucked in the pockets of his pants, trying to hide his nerves as he braced himself for the words that were about to follow.

“I’ve informed the rest of the team,” Hotch explained, his eyebrows edged in an irritated frown. “The only reason that you’re on this case is because you could give personal insight into the unsub. We’ll discuss this afterward,” he added in a warning tone, “Behaviour like this is not tolerated.”

“I know,” Spencer muttered, his voice coming out hoarse. I don’t agree, but I understand. “I’m sorry.”

Aaron nodded, seemingly satisfied with his response. His body leaned forward, head tilted as he called the team to gather around the round table. 

-

“Man, you slept with her?!” 

Derek hadn’t even properly sat down before the criticizing jabs slipped out. The tone was instantly set, an awkward tension lingering thick in the air.

Spencer’s mouth opened, his fingers flexing, but before he could respond, Emily rose from her seat. “It’s in the past. Right now, we should focus on finding her before she’ll devolve.”

Hotch nodded in agreement. This discussion was pointless; there was no time to lose. “Garcia, can you go over her documents again?”

“Of course, sir. Uh, let’s see–,” her purple colored nails tapped against the keyboard of her laptop. “She hasn’t been very active in the last few years. Most activity was during college. She majored in chemistry.”

Spencer’s heart did a jump at the mention of chemistry. He barely got the chance to ask you about yourself, and he was fighting the urge to ask Penelope for more information, wondering what else you’d have in common. 

“Wait a minute,” Spencer wondered out loud when his brain made the connection. “Chemistry.”

“The victims were poisoned,” Rossi noted, connecting the dots.

Spencer suppressed the rising nausea by forcing his eyes shut. His knee tremored, anxiously tapping against the underside of the table. He really didn’t know you, did he?

Hotch’s furrow deepened. “Another confirmation that she’s the one we’re looking for.” He turned to Garcia, “Did we receive the results from the lab?”

“Not yet, sir. But this is interesting though,” her nails continued their rhythmic clicking. “She dropped out of college a couple of months before graduating.”

“You wouldn’t just do that,” Rossi mused. “Can you find any reasoning in her archives?” 

Penelope shook her head. “Not really. The whole thing seemed pretty sudden. She had good grades.”

Hotch leaned forward, placing his elbows on the table. “Let’s look at victimology.” 

“Okay, so we got Shaun Dallas, Eric Zimmer and Nathan Johns. Tight buddies throughout college and they still seemed to be according to social media. Different majors, none of them chemistry.”

“She seemed disgusted when I brought them up,” Derek added, referencing your interrogation. “Said that nobody in college liked them.”

“Well, they seem like the standard gross jock types,” Penelope commented. 

“Does she have any history with them?” Emily asked.

“Uh, not that I can see,” Garcia replied. “I don’t even think they shared any classes.”

“What about them personally? Anything you can tie to her wanting them dead?”

“Let’s see, boy wonder…” Garcia mumbled in response to Spencer, eyes focused on the screen. “Here! I got something.” 

Everyone stared at her in anticipation. “Nathan Johns was involved in a Peeping Tom “incident” when he was fifteen. He had a habit of peeping underneath the bathroom stalls in highschool, and one girl decided to press charges with her parents. Claims were quickly shut down though, because, obviously, his father is a lawyer.”

Hotch’s lips pressed into a tight line. “What about the other two?”

“Zilch. Squeaky clean records.”

“Let’s leave that for later,” Rossi suggested. “We have more to say about her MO.”

“She poisoned her victims,” JJ chimed in. “That makes sense with her chemistry background. She’s also shown that she’s meticulous and pays attention to detail.” She continued elaborating, “She managed to poison the drinks without the bartender noticing and she made sure to keep an eye on Spencer as he typed in the code to his safe.”

The team nodded like-mindedly. Spencer bit down on his bottom lip. He didn’t have much of a say in all of this. He didn’t even know why he still tried to make sense of it all. Whether he genuinely believed in your innocence or if this was an attempt at finding a theory that would sooth his mind.

“She’s rather chaotic, actually,” he eventually spoke up. “She snapped during the interview when Natalie Fisher got mentioned. She took my gun while I was in the room next to her. To be more specific, she—“ he cleared his throat, “I woke up and she walked back to me before heading out. It doesn’t match the MO of the killings.”

“What are you suggesting, kid?” Rossi asked, confusion visible on his face.

“She doesn't have to be the unsub.” 

“Oh, come on, man. Then how do you explain the dumping of the bodies?” Morgan inquired, his tone laced with accusement. “She went from meticulous to dropping the bodies in the middle of an alley where anyone could pass by. She’s shown dramatic changes in MO before.”

“The bodies could have been placed there to set her up. The unsub must have known she’s disorganized, so positioning the bodies there could be connected to her. If the unsub is as diligent as we’re assuming, he could’ve easily disposed of the bodies in a place where we wouldn’t be able to find them. Instead, he dropped them right in the face of any passersby.”  

“Spence, I thought we’ve been over this,” JJ said, offering a sympathetic smile, her hand sliding over the table to reach out for him.

Spencer quickly pulled his hand back, seeing the obvious hurt on his friend’s face. Yes, they had been over this. He was positive that he would snap if he had to go through another “Are you sure you’re ready to be back? The change from prison to society is a huge change” conversation. 

“Did she share anything else that makes you think this way?”

Spencer blinked at Hotch's question. The moment was still fresh in his mind. He remembered how nervous he felt when he had asked you to take you to his place. He had replayed the hypothetical conversation in his mind a thousand times, how he would first open up about his past, wanting to make you feel comfortable enough to open up about yours. But when you kissed him the way you did, there was no space for any other thoughts in his mind.

“Reid,” Hotch repeated.

“No.”

“No?” 

“She said that she likes the sea,” he shared, the corner of his lip slightly lifting at the memory. 

“I feel safe in your arms,” you whispered, your breath tickling his chest as you lay your head on top of it. His arm was wrapped around you, tracing patterns on the bare skin of your arm, wondering if you could feel his pounding heartbeat. 

“The only other place I’ve felt this safe is at sea.”

He smiled as he gazed down at you. Then he pressed a gentle kiss to the top of your head. “Really?”

He felt the movement of you nodding. “It’s the only place that calms my mind.”

The sound of ruffling paper snapped him out of his thoughts. He lifted his head to see Rossi unrolling a large map of the country. 

Spencer could feel the prying eyes on him. Geography of the unsub is his strength. He inhaled a deep breath before leaving his chair, reluctantly walking toward the wall where Rossi had pinned the map.

“She told you that she didn’t have a place to stay,” Prentiss stated, her words sounding like a question for affirmation.

Spencer nodded, trying to focus on the case like it was any other. “She walked to the reunion, probably taken by cab, and then we found her walking around the area when we arrested her. So, she has no vehicle.”

“For all we know, she could’ve taken the first plane out of the country,” Morgan interjected.

Hotch clicked his tongue. “We alerted Border Patrol when Reid had called me, which was less than an hour after she had left his house. If we assume she’s chaotic, she wouldn’t be able to book a flight that quickly. The only place you can disappear this smoothly has to be a place in her comfort zone.”

“Can we assume she’s still in Virginia?” Rossi asked.

“I don’t think so,” Spencer replied. “Her picture is all over the state, and Virginia’s beaches are very populated, with a minimum of in the hundred thousands. Virginia Beach, for example, has a population of 453.649.”

“She doesn’t have a car,” Rossi thought aloud. “There are no records of her having a stable job, so she doesn’t have a lot of money in her pockets either. Knowing cab drivers, they won’t want to drive around for hours, which leads us to—“

“Delaware,” Spencer finished. 

-`♡´-

A sea breeze gently caressed your face, blowing through your cut hair. With your eyes closed, you cherished the sound of the waves crashing against the shore and the scent of saltwater in the air. It was a nostalgic smell that came with a flood of memories: building sandcastles on the beach, running barefoot across the hot sand before diving into the sea, loud laughter as you splashed the water and got splashed in return. 

The flashbacks were a stark contrast to your current predicament. When you opened your eyes, it was dark. The sea in front of you looked black, only reflecting a small glimmer of the moon that hung low in the sky. The sand beneath your fingers felt cold. And there were no sounds of laughter, not even the sound of annoying seagulls. You were surrounded in absolute silence.  A crunching noise came out of the darkness. The sound so sudden and intense, similar to being whipped across the face. Though, your head didn’t turn. You knew who was out there. 

The sounds grew louder. Sweat started forming on your face and hands. Your fingers trembled as you reached into the pocket of your jeans, the tight fabric cutting into your hand as you pushed deeper until you felt the cool metal of Spencer’s gun.

“Don’t.”

The word cut through the air. Your grip on the gun tightened in an effort to keep your fingers from shaking. No words left your mouth as you carefully tilted your head. 

In front of you stood Spencer, exactly as you had predicted. But unlike your predictions, he was on his own. Was he here by himself to personally arrest you? To revel in your loss?

You continued to stare at him, though you weren’t really seeing him. Your vision blurred by the tears that had welled in your eyes. You blinked them away, focusing on his gun, which he held tightly in between both hands, aimed straight at your skull. 

“Is that a new one?” 

He seemed taken aback by your question, glacing down to the firearm in his palms. When he looked back at you, you stood in front of him, mirroring his stance, gun directed at his chest.

“I like this one better,” you commented, clicking the safety off.

Spencer cocked his head, maintaining his unwavering eye contact. He seemed to be challenging you. You clenched your jaw, anger boiling hotter inside of you. 

“Put the gun away,” he strictly ordered, though his tone remained unnervingly calm. It was too calm for your liking. He should be scared. At least show a sign of nerves. Instead he looked at you like you were a joke, like you weren’t capable.

“You’re not going to use it anyway,” he dismissively adds, fueling your anger.

“Yes, I will!” 

Your voice taunted as you took a step forward. Your legs trembled at the move, your heart thudded painfully in your chest to the point of nausea. It was difficult to comprehend the next words he spoke, your ears ringing before you even fired the shot.

“You didn’t kill those people,” Spencer declared. The words sounded like he was repeating a scientific fact. Like it was the only possible truth.

He then called out your name.

The word rolled off his tongue like it was crafted just for him to say it. Akin to a gentle symphony. His pronunciation was just as soft and full with longing as it had been when he breathily whispered it into your ear over and over again.

“I would’ve!” you shouted out, shaking yourself out of your thoughts. You strode forward until the barrel of your gun pressed into his chest, jabbing the cold metal into his clothed skin. 

He didn’t flinch. Instead of his breathing hastening, it slowed down. His eyebrows drooped as he looked down at you. 

“I would’ve,” you repeat just as loudly, digging the weapon harder into him. Pity remained on his face and you couldn’t stop the tears threatening to spill again. Whether it was from frustration or sorrow, you weren’t sure. 

“I would’ve, I would’ve, I would’ve!” 

The words tumbled from your mouth like a mantra, each repetition feeling like the only way to catch your breath. With every spoken word, you hit his chest, though your punches weaken with every syllable.

Spencer continued to watch you, observing you as he gave you the space that you needed. When you looked up at him, his eyes were glistening, triggering something inside of you.

A sob broke free from your chest. Spencer’s gun slipped from his hand in reaction, falling into the sand with a muffled thud. 

“I should’ve…” you choked out, the words a combination of an apology and a confession.

Spencer nodded compassionately, his hands reaching out to gently cup yours. 

 “Should’ve done it. Should’ve been me.” 

“I know, sweetheart,” he spoke reassuringly, carefully taking the gun from your limp fingers and tucking it in his back pocket. His hands quickly returned to yours, without you even registering his movement. “I know.”

“I’m so sorry,” you softly cried. The words weren’t meant for Spencer, but somehow, he understood. His arms wrapped around you, pulling you into his chest, holding you against the spot where your gun had been only seconds ago.

Sorries became the new prayer you desperately muttered against his chest. Sorries to Natalie. Sorries for being weak. Sorries for not giving her the justice she deserved. Sorries for dishonoring her when she needed you most. Sorries for everything.

The apologies to others turned into a plea to receive them yourself. Sorry for making you so naive. Sorry for making you weak. Sorry for giving you the need to run from yourself. 

Your head hung low against him, your grip on his shirt tightening, your lungs constricting like it was painful to breathe. 

“You’re angry.” Spencer noted, noticing the change in your posture. 

You sniffled against him, not having the energy to lie. “Yes.”

He leaned down, pressing a kiss to your hair. The gesture made your stomach flutter. 

You felt conflicted by his kindness. How was he able to hold you so tightly? To choose to stay by your side despite the mess you were.

The delicacy of his touch parallel to the fury still simmering inside of you. 

“I am so mad,” you admitted in a resigned breath.

His hand slid from your head to your neck, gently cupping your jaw. “Let it out on me.”

You had to furrow your brows, not sure if you understood him correctly. 

“I mean it. Your body is full of cortisol and epinephrine. Stress hormones,” he explained. “You need to be relieved of those.”

His fingertips trailed lightly over your arm, and you followed his touch with your eyes. 

“Use me. Let me offer you relief.”

You stood frozen in place, swallowing the breathless laugh that almost escaped your lips, as you noted the genuine look expressed on Spencer’s face.

His eyes bored into yours, the hazel of his irises altering into a darker shade of brown.

Tentatively, your hands moved up his body, and only then did his heartbeat quicken. Your fingers continued trailing upward until you gripped his collar, the fabric soft in your tight grip. His eyes don’t leave yours, mouth just slightly agape as you pull him in closer. 

Then you kiss him — hard.

*link to smut (pt. 2.5)

-`♡´-

The ventilation quietly hummed in the back of the motel room from the shower you had just taken. After the intimate moment on the beach, Spencer had convinced you to take him back to the motel you were staying at. “They’re all fast asleep. They haven’t noticed me leaving” he assured you. 

It didn’t matter anymore if they knew your whereabouts, you’ve told Spencer everything anyway. How Natalie has been your bestest friend in college. How you were tied to the hip. How you never left each other’s sight — except for that one night…

You had cried in his arms, and he had let you. He held you close as you lay in bed. He comforted you with statistics about guilt and trauma, as you told him why you went to that reunion that night. It marked the anniversary of the week Natalie had died. Of the week you received an email from her: a final note. Telling you by the time you read this, she’d be long gone.

You hadn’t gone to her funeral. Didn’t even receive an invitation. You hadn’t been in contact with Natalie ever since she had called you from that party. You’d picked her up that night, taken her to the hospital, and left the second the doctors told you she’d be fine. 

You didn’t tell Spencer this part. You only told him that you expected there to be a memorial at the reunion, a way for you to have a proper goodbye. Your heart had stopped in the same way it had years ago when you walked into the bar and found that there was nothing. Nothing but loud music, colored lights, and drunk people. It was as if Natalie had never existed.

Your ears had rang. Your breaths came in short pants. With all your might, you suppressed the rising panic attack, using the last bit of strength to walk toward the three men you’d spotted from the start. The men that had done this to Natalie. Who had killed her, although not with their hands. 

Naive little birdie, Natalie had always called you. The sweet nickname now sounded more haunting as the three men stared you up and down. Your heart beated in expectancy, but then you noticed their dilated pupils. The way their breath reeked of hard liquor. Their lips still glossy with alcohol as they gave you a sluggish smirk. They hadn’t even recognized you. Naive little birdie.

Spencer had squeezed your hand, bringing you back to reality. “It’s okay.”

You had shaken your head, the memories tearing apart into small pieces in your mind. Quickly, you had finished your story, telling him that after that moment, you didn’t have it in you to walk past everyone again. Too terrified to see the laughs on their faces. Instead, you marched straight to the emergency exit.

The both of you stayed quiet after your confession. The air hung heavy with silence, but it wasn’t entirely comfortable.

“We need to talk about it at some point,” Spencer brings up.

You nodded. Spencer had been kind to you, given you the time to process, but the conversation was inevitable. You hadn’t killed anyone. So someone else had.

“Someone is trying to blame this on you. Someone wants to see you gone,” he softly whispers, his voice cracking with emotion.

The subject made you feel uncomfortable. You had thought about it before. Plenty of times, actually. But every time you did what you did best: ignore it. It wasn’t as easy to disregard when someone was looking you in the eyes, their pain so visible.

Still, you shrugged, brushing aside his comment. “It doesn’t matter. I wanted them gone, and now they are. It doesn’t matter how.”

“It does matter.” 

The rise in his voice made you flinch, and he instantly cupped your hands, pulling you back to him. “‘M sorry. I’m just scared.”

It was strange to hear someone be so honest. Spencer had been honest with you from the start. He’d said that he would protect you, and he was still keeping to that promise.

You moved your hand to your hair, wanting to twirl  the locks as a nervous habit, but then realized most of it was cut short. 

“I guess we can tell your team tomorrow,” you settle on saying, swallowing as you envision their dirty looks.

“Really?” He raised his eyebrows in a questioning gaze, leaning forward as he hid the small, grateful smile that lingered his lips.

You chuckled, feeling relieved by his response. You nodded your head against the pillow. “Really.”

The room returned to silence. Surely now deeply comfortable. No more questions that lingered in the air. The back of Spencer’s fingers lazily traced the side of your face. His warm hand trailed down the skin. His eyes flickered over your face, expression filled with awe as he grazed his fingers through your short locks. “Your hair looks pretty.”

A soft snort escaped you, “It looks horrendous.”

He responded with a breathy laugh, and you can’t help but smile widely back at him. 

“I think this suits you better. Not that I didn’t like your other haircut,” he quickly corrected himself, making you chuckle. “I like your face. The longer hair hid it. Now I can see you.”

Your cheeks warmed. Spencer did see you. Not just your appearance — he saw you. He had seen you from the moment your eyes had locked when he and his team had found you and brought you to the station. He had seen you before you’d even seen yourself. The thought of stopping your hiding, your fleeing, didn’t seem so scary anymore. Not when staying would bring you to him. 

The comfortable silence was interrupted by a low rumble, followed by a louder one. Spencer’s hand slipped from your hair as he placed it on his stomach. “I’m sorry.”

A bright, childlike laugh bubbled from your chest. Spencer snickered, grinning from ear to ear. He bashfully brushed his fingers through his messy curls. “I havent really eaten since we’ve gotten here.”

“Let me grab you a snack.” You crawled out of bed, legs still a little shaky as you stood up. 

“Do you have snacks in the room?

“No, but there’s a vending machine outside.”

He propped himself up against the pillows, his eyes following you as you made your way over to the bathroom where your clothes were bundled up on the tile floor. He let out a small sigh as you walked out of sight.

He naturally timed the minutes till the door creaked open again. You had washed yourself up in the sink, some water droplets still clinging to your neck. Your hair less frizzy now that it had been dampened. You wore your clothes from earlier, though one could tell they had been taken off of you multiple times.

“I’ll be right back,” you promised, grabbing the key and some coins from the cabinet. And he believed you.

-

The door shut behind you, a cold breeze immediately hugging your skin. The LED lamps brightened the exterior corridor. The vending machine at the end of the walkway shone even brighter, catching your attention.

You walked straight toward it, curiously peering into the transparent door. You pressed the numbers for trail mix and beef jerky — something that could pass for dinner. You inserted the coin, impatiently bending down in front of the opening.

The rumbling sound of the machine was followed by a whoosh of air.

Then a sharp bang echoed through your skull.

Then you were gone.

-`♡´-

Shadows of bright lights flickered in front of your eyes, giving the illusion that you rubbed them too hard.

You forced your eyelids open, and if it weren’t for the fact that you were lying down, you would’ve stumbled. With effort, you scrambled yourself up into a sitting position, taking in your surroundings.

Four tiled walls enclosed you. The room resembled a lab: a sink with a counter to the left, an iron door on the wall right in front of you, and an air vent to the right. 

A bitter odor entered your airways, making you scrunch your nose. You turned your head to the left — a little too quickly — the throbbing pain catching up with you, making you groan in pain. 

Your hands shot to the sides of your face, trying to hold your head still in an attempt to stop the room from spinning. 

A warm liquid coated your fingers. You pulled your hand back and saw it was stained crimson. A gasp left you, followed by a string of whimpers as you felt yourself growing faint. 

You spotted a red first aid kit on top of the counter. On your knees, you slumped toward it, taking several breaks despite the distance only being ten feet. 

With clammy hands, you clutched the counter, inhaling a deep breath before dragging yourself up. Your body hovered over the table, and you reached your arm out to pull the kit closer to you. You fumbled with the lock on the box. “Open up, please,” you begged to whatever God that was listening.

The acid smell grew stronger, and it was then that you noticed the small vial next to the first aid kit. Its contents contained a light yellow solid. Cyanide — poison. 

The metal door creaked open, the sound stinging straight through your skull. You cried out as you fell to the ground. You backed away to the nearest wall, curling your knees to your chest just in time for the door to fully open. “Naive little birdie. You’re awake.”

PART 2.5

[cmdrfupa]

Lifetime

post shibuya!nanami x caregiver!reader

A series dedicated to healing and letting yourself have a second chance in this lifetime.

Inspired by this song that brings me to tears every single time.

content warning: shibuya arc, mentions of death, mental health awareness, angst(eventual comfort), burn victim so expect some detailed imagery.

wc: 4.9k

an: thank you for reading. I love you lots.

I.

Time seemed to trickle as Nanami waited for his physical therapist to arrive.

First at home session since being discharged.

4 days a week, 30 minutes a day.

“Individualized exercise program including rigorous activities as you progress to help you regain your independence.. Sure.” Nanami read from the pamphlet out loud and sighed as he looked over the stack of literature he left the rehab facility with.

He was thankful that he was deemed fit enough to continue his healing at home after 11 weeks in the best facility Gojo could find. While it accommodated every possible concern one could have, he was certain he wouldn’t feel confident in being self sufficient until he was able to put all he had learned into practice at home.

So there he was, sifting through paperwork and sipping his coffee as he awaited his new physical therapist and as Ino finished cleaning his kitchen.

“I think thats it! Lunch is in the black container on the top shelf in the fridge and I’ve prepped dinner for when Gojo comes to cook. Anything else before I’m off?” Takuma grabbed his keys, the jangle bringing Kento out of his reading trance as he looked up.

“Yes, that should be fine. I appreciate you coming over every morning Takuma. But it’s not necessary.”

Takuma scoffed, almost offended at the idea. “Nonsense. Its just a little breakfast and lunch. Its on my way to the school anyway. Consider it a small help.”

He could protest but Takuma would simply find another way to make himself useful. Whether it be taking him to his appointments or coming to slather his injuries: he was going to find a way to be of help.

As he adjusted his cast as best he could, a text popped up from an unsaved number.

>Hello, Mr. Nanami! Currently heading to you. ETA is ten minutes.

Signed with your name, Nanami simply reads the text and reacted to the message with thumbs up.

“Thank you, Takuma. Truly. But I think thats everything. My physical therapist is on their way so I’ll just hang out til then.”

“Alrighty! I’ll be working mostly on campus so just shoot me a text if you need me. Take it easy, Nanami.” with that, Ino grabbed his jacket and proceeded out the front door.

Nanami exhaled and got up to sit at the window. The mid morning sun was gentle but insistent, that soft golden hue brightening everything it touched.

It wasn’t harsh, just warm enough to remind Nanami of the outside world, a quiet promise that time was still moving. The warmth on his right side almost felt foreign as the dust mites danced lazily in the light. He closed his eyes, taking in the fragile sense of something stirring inside of him­— reposeful comfort in the way the sun didn’t have a sudden, overwhelming wave of joy but a soft declaration that he was still here.

Nanami hadn’t had many moments to really think about just how life changing the incident had been. Half of his body littered in 3rd degree burns, a third of that, 4th degree. Loss of hair on one side, an eye patch over his eye and a lack of feeling down his left arm.

He’d looked at himself in the mirror exactly once since the incident and didn’t do it again until he acquired his face prosthetic recently.

It was bulky and itchy, but it alleviated the deformities and more importantly, kept him from being too hard on his own appearance.

The moment felt necessary. Reminding him that the sun remained a constant while other things changed.

“I’ll need to see if I can sit outdoors for a few minutes a day. Would be good for me.” he noted outwardly before a light tapping at the front door had him shuffling towards the foyer.

One moment, please.” he paused a few paces before he reached the door to look down, remembering his shirt had a hole near the hem of it. He didn’t have time to change but only hoped the therapist wouldn’t see him as some undetermined slob with no real concern on how he looked.

He took a deep breath and opened the door.

“Mr. Nanami?”

“That would be me.”

“Perfect! Hello! I was sent by the health and wellness agency as part of your transitioning to home health care. We have an appointment. May I come in?”

No scrubs, no accessories to signify you were a medical professional. Just a badge clip holding your ID with “HHA” boldly sitting under your name.

“Sure. Come on in.” He led you into the house, slowly walking into the living room and nodding towards the couch as you stood next to him.

You grin and sat on the far end of the couch, near the window, “Thank you.” you sat your tote littered in small pins on the coffee table and pulled out a somewhat thick file.

“Would you like anything to drink? Water, coffee?”

Shaking your head, you tapped the top of your bag. “No thank you. I have my tumbler. But I appreciate it!”

Nanami slightly bowed his head and sat in the solo chair next to the couch. “Alright so, how do we start this? I was told I’d see you four days a week with one more day possibly if I need to.”

You pursed your lips, looking down at your paperwork before looking back up to meet his neutral gaze.

“I believe that’s your physical therapist that you will be seeing four days out of the week.”

“Then pardon me for being so… impolite. But who are you exactly?”

The laugh that left your lips was a soft one but enough for Kento to lift his lips into a slight smile.

“I realize your discharge team didn’t give you names, faces, or titles. My apologies.”

“It happens.”

You continued. “I’m your Home Health Care Provider. While you were still in recovery, you met with your primary care provider and you spoke of your in home care, correct?”

Nanami nodded. “Yes.”

“Going over the team you’d have for your in housee rehabilitation, you were assigned a home health aide 5 days a week.”

His brow furrowed. “So you are that, I assume?”

“Yes. I will also be the one looking over the full team that provides you with your in-home care.”

“This feels very unnecessary.” The tone in his response was sharp. “I have people who come to help me with my daily needs. Having an entire team sounds like an exhausting back and forth to have coming to my house. A waste of resources.”

Your demeanor remained soft and understanding as you listened to his concerns. “Mr. Nanami. I understand that it sounds overwhelming. If I had to be in the predicament of needing a care team after an incident, I too would be a bit apprehensive.”

“But you aren’t. I am.”

The immediate smile that grew on your face wasn’t one that came from kindness. It was your defense, albeit an understandable one. “You are correct. I’m not. But I implore to at least hear me out on why its important to have us.”

A rush of emotions filled Kento’s chest. He wanted to pull his hair out from sheer frustration. But he remained calm.

His discomfort was obvious to you and you wanted to remedy the ache somehow.

“I want you to have an idea of what this could look like as you approach the first steps of gaining a sense of normalcy. Would you be willing to let me give you an example of what a week may look like for you? And if you don’t like it, we can adjust to a schedule that fits better for you.”

“Let’s hear it, then.”

“Splendid.” You reached into your file and pulled out a thoroughly detailed schedule and turned it for Nanami to look along with you.

“So, this schedule is based loosely on the day to day you had while in the rehab facility. No matter who, anything involving someone from your team wouldn’t be arriving until 10am. This is unless you decide to utilize me. Then I would be here at 7 every morning to aide you with your morning routine.”

“What if I don’t want extensive help?”

“I would respect the boundary.”

Nanami took a closer look at the schedule, seeing the words ‘kitchen prep healing exercise’ highlighted for every Tuesday and Thursday. “What does this entail? Kitchen prep healing.”

“Your passions shouldn’t suffer because of changes. So I created a regimen that would help us get in the kitchen and get busy while making sure we help maintain your range of motion and fine motor skills.”

Nanami looked up at you for a moment, trying to assess just how serious you were about changing what he was uncomfortable with.

“So if I only need you for meal prep and assisting with chores around my house.”

“Then I will only help you with meal prep and assisting with your chores around the house.”

He handed the schedule back to you. “And if it isn’t something that I’ve mentioned?”

Trying to test you. Cute. “If you mention to me that would like me to assist you in going to the grocery store, fixing your bed, helping you get ready for your appointments, then I will. Because my goal is having you confident in yourself and your abilities.”

That nagging feeling of what if filled his chest and mind. Nanami knows he can’t do it alone. But to be a burden is the last thing he wants to ever become.

“I don’t want to become too dependent on you and your teams’ services.” He sat up as best he could, stretching out his legs and wincing at the unexpected intensity of his blood flowing through his left leg.”

Not wanting to lose the momentum, you sat on the edge of the couch alert of and aware of the pain he showed. “Your independence will not falter. We are merely an extension. We are the claw arm that’s in your reach if the jar of pickles are too high up, if you will.”

Nanami tried to stop the half smile on his face but faltered. “I understand.”

“Do you have any questions for me?” You smiled politely.

“A few,” Nanami cleared his throat. “When it comes to changing my dressings..”

“I will be the only one who sees them completely outside of your primary physician.” You answered, as if you were waiting for that specific question.

“Second question: can you properly fold a fitted sheet?”

You laughed, nodding. “The trick is in how you hold the corners. Line up the creases and you’ll always have a perfect fold.”

Nanami nodded. “Interesting.” The intense blood flow in his legs ceased and his body noticeably relaxed. He sat forward. “Final question, if you were to start tomorrow, could we have your start time for 8am? I like having the first hour of the day to myself.”

“If you want me here at 8 am, I will be at the door by 7:55 to knock at 7:59.”

The moment of silence was filled with hope as you realized you got to him. You let him see genuine concern and thats all he wanted. But this was only the beginning. And you were willing to be his guide to a sense of independence all the way through.

___________________________________________

The silence of the early morning was heavier than usual— a quit hum of of the refrigerator reached his room as he slept with his bedroom door open now, a new practice he’s since learned is a response to his trauma.

He sat on the side of his bed, staring down at his slippers that warmly held his feet as the barely visible morning light filtered through the curtains, soft and unrelenting.

“I embrace healing.” He spoke out loud, his voice still low, sleep riddened, as he slowly rose from the bed and grabbed his cane.

“We aren’t going to be hard on ourselves because this is still new to you, Kento. Its okay to not know what to do.”

Mornings were more of a drag than he would like for them to be.

His body was more stiff. More rigid. He needed 30 minutes minimum to sit on the side of the bed and stretch just to muster up enough internal energy to get up and grab his cane.

He sounded off, flipping the bathroom light on and adjusting the sink to run warm water. “Today will be a great day.” He washed his hands, meticulously washing between his fingers and flicking the excess off his fingers before he dried them, reaching for a clean towel and letting it soak under the faucet.

“You will be more than okay.” this time, he spoke as if someone would overhear him talking to his self.

Nanami shook his head, lowly chuckling at what he found himself doing.

Yuji began to send him various videos that initiated ‘positive self talk’ and ‘daily affirmations for healing the body.’ Yuji hoped to try and help expedite a process that Megumi told him more than fives times, would take awhile.

Slowly pulled away the dressing on his cheek, Nanami watched small bits of dead tissue peel away from his healing skin. He threw it in the trash hamper, then pumped a small dot of antimicrobial soap on the wet towel he’d soaked and gently began to wash his face.

He looked closely, inspecting every patch he wiped over to take notice of any changes in how his skin looked. He tried very, very hard to not look into his own eyes.

Rinsing and patting to dry, he washed his hands again then reached for the jar of salve, precisely swiping a thin layer over his left cheek and forehead before he placed his transparent face mask on.

Finishing up his morning bathroom routine went without a rush. Going to throw on yet another loose fitting t-shirt and casual pants before sliding his slippers back on.

Slow and steady. Nice and easy.

“I am going to have a great day today.” the rubber end of his walker softly thudded against the wooden floors as he made his was down the hall. “It is a new day. New chances.”

He wasn’t going to confirm or deny if these affirming exercises were doing anything. But he’d admit that saying them aloud was probably the silliest he’d felt ever doing anything.

The living room held a welcoming warmth as he drew the blinds open that faced the street.

The third floor apartment view was always the one thing that made the asking price of his condo worth it to him.

The patchwork of traditional rooftops and modern buildings met the edge of the cities outskirts. Bare branches stood against the pale early morning winter sky, hints of early plum blossoms added a hint of a spring that would soon come and wipe away the muted landscape.

Kento sat on the window seal, taking in the low mountains in the distance. That thin veil of mist hiding the peaks that were still dusted in snow. With a deep inhale, he looked down at the street to see a bundled up pedestrian loading his car with boxes as another, that looked only slightly familiar, was exiting their car in a slow jog to the front steps of his building.

He glanced over at the clock on the wall.

7:55 am.

“Timely.”

slowly, he went to open the rest of the blinds around the living room, a slow tango that made him a feel like he still had just enough control, timing the last curtain opening perfectly as your soft knock filled the foyer yet again.

He stood there for a moment, his hand resting on the frame, before opening the door and stepping aside in a half step to let you in. His expression was neutral — not unkind, but carefully composed, as if he were still deciding how much space to give you in his life.

“Good morning,” you spoke softly, offering a polite smile.

“Morning,” Nanami replied, his voice low and steady. “I was about to make myself a simple breakfast. Coffee too.”

It wasn’t quite an invitation, but it wasn’t a dismissal either. It was just a statement — a line drawn firmly down the middle.

You nodded. “That sounds good.”

You sat your bag down on the ottoman against the wall and followed his lead. The condo was quiet — too quiet, the kind that felt deliberate. Like he'd stripped the space of anything deemed unnecessary. A few trinkets here and there, clean lines, muted colors.. But the kitchen felt like the homeliest part of the space.

Black stainless steel appliances, cold press juicer and blender sitting on the counter. A top of the line built-in double electric convection wall oven, a display of every herb and spice on a dark mahogany shelf sitting high on the wall.

“You have a very beautiful kitchen.” Your eyes grazed over the quartz cabinets, taking in the light blue finishes until you landed on what you knew to be as the best stand mixer that only experts chefs and bakers would have.

“You have a Bosch… Its even more beautiful in person.” You inspected it as if it were a lost artifact seeing the light for the first time in 500 years.

Nanami cocked his head for a moment. “Are you that taken by a stand mixer?”

“Mr. Nanami, I’d have to work 3 weeks nonstop to not only get the mixer but to financially recover from it.”

Your half suppressed laugh had Kento smiling. “Understandable. It is a big purchase. I use to bake fresh bread for my weekly use.”

“You’ll have to give me a demonstration one day! Would love to see the Bosch in action.”

Nanami raised his brows. “You think I can get back to that one day?”

The small flick of something resembling hope flecked in the richest parts of his brown eyes.

“We can get you back to that. I’m sure of it.”

He nodded, a silent acceptance of an unspoken challenge. He opened the refrigerator, bearing his weight on the cane as he used his dominant hand to grab the butter, holding it out.

“Do you mind taking things as I pass them to you?”

You reached out, taking the butter and placing it on the counter. “Don’t mind at all.”

A pack of bacon, a jar of jam and an orange followed after and you awaited his next instruction.

“I’m going need your help with peeling orange. I believe I can manage the rest.”

With quiet acknowledgment, you grabbed the orange and began to peel as he placed 2 pieces of bacon in the skillet.

It took less than 10 minutes and Nanami moved to the dining table, a slice of toast placed next to his bacon on a plate and setting out a small dish of fruit with the addition of an apple now. You brought out 2 mugs of coffee, placing his in front of him and sitting across from him with yours.

A butter knife rested awkwardly beside the jar of jam he chose. It was clear he had intended to do more, but something had stopped him.

You didn’t move or say anything, you sipped your coffee and watched as he reached for the jar. His right hand gripped the jar while his left hovered over the lid. His fingers trembled — just slightly — but enough that the lid refused to budge.

You didn’t move at first. You’d quickly learned that Nanami wasn’t the type to appreciate overstepping, even if it came from a place of concern. So you waited, giving him the space to either push through the task or acknowledge the struggle.

After a long moment, his jaw tightened. The jar didn’t budge.

You opened your mouth — not to offer help, but simply to ask if he wanted you to hold the base of the jar steady when his voice cut through the silence.

“Can you…” He paused, the word tasting foreign on his tongue. “Can you open this for me?”

It wasn’t a whisper, nor was it loud. Just a calm, measured request, but you could hear the effort behind it — the weight of a man who wasn’t used to asking for assistance.

You stood and went to his side of the table and gently placed your hand on the lid. “Turn when you’re ready.”

His hand dropped away, switching his left hand out for the right gripping the glass part and his left fingers curling into a loose fist at his side. The lid gave way with a soft pop, and you set it down in front of him without a word.

He didn’t thank you, but there was a small nod — barely noticeable, but it was there.

“Would you like me to slice the apple for you?” you asked, careful not to overstep.

Nanami shook his head. “No. I can manage.”

You sat back down, sipping your coffee as he asked you more questions about your fascination with his Bosch.

_______________________________________

The morning moved quickly. Breakfast cleanup was a breeze as Nanami continued his light reading and non rigorous solo exercises.

During breakfast, you’d been given what you called the key to the cupboard by Nanami. He uttered, with few words, that he didn’t want to prevent you from doing your job. While he limited what that might be, he was quick to say how appreciative he’d be if his bed could be made up, his laundry started and lunch done. He’d have a friend come by to do the rest.

You happily complied and began working on laundry the moment he sat down post breakfast. And by noon, his physical therapist had arrived to continue his exercise routine and mobility work.

Despite the pain he would occasionally feel from the intense stretches he felt near his ankles, this was Nanami’s favorite part of his rehabilitation. Feeling the tightness dissipate as he stretched his neck and chest together. He closed his eyes, allowing the PT to guide his body on top of the exercise ball.

“Now a slow exhale as you reach your arms over your head. Nice and easy.”

The short man moved the ball under Nanami and he grunted.

“Sorry Mr. Nanami, too much?”

Nanami wheezed a chuckle out, “Not enough. Can we do this one more often?”

The therapist exhaled and smiled. “We can. Your body is reacting as it needs to and it seems to be the best exercise to get a reaction out of you. Does it feel like your body is loosening up?”

He nodded, slowly sitting up with assistance. “Definitely. My skin feels less taut at my hips and chest when I open up my arms like that. It feels.. good.”

“That’s what I like to hear. We’re going to finish off with some hands exercises then your aide will be tagged back in to finish the day off with you.”

His session proceeded and came to an end before he knew it. He walked with a bit more confidence as he escorted his therapist to the door and went to find you in the kitchen finishing lunch.

Nanami watched you sliced the cucumber. He nodded at the precision of the knife movements, impressed with how perfect each little sliced green disc was as you added it to the salad bowl. He waited to speak once you sat the knife down.

“You have some really great knife skills.”

You looked up and smiled, wiping your hand on the dish towel nearby. “4 years of cooking for a group of broke college students as a college student. 2 of those years were spent dating a sous chef who taught me some of what I know.”

“I’m sure this sous chef would be happy to know you use these techniques so well.”

“We could only hope,” Expertly, you avoided giving that a full response that would push the topic of your ex. “Where did you learn to cook, Mr. Nanami? I’m sure you are amazing with a Bosch in your kitchen.”

Nanami walked behind you, reaching for two bowls out of the cabinets and placed them next to you. “My grandfather wanted me to be self sufficient once I moved out on my own.” He slowly opened the silverware drawer, pulling out a pair of forks and knives. “And cooking in itself is its own therapy for me.”

You finished placing the grilled chicken in the salad bowl and handed over the tongs to Nanami. “How does cooking make you feel?”

He looked down at the tongs, his heart fluttering with an anxiety he couldn’t place. His eyes found you. “Do you think I can?”

“I’m right here,” you slid one of the eating bowls directly next to him and smiled. “What does cooking do for you?”

Nanami put his eyes back onto the salad and took a deep breath. He grabbed the tongs, gripping them, feeling the cold stainless steel rest in the part of his palm that still had feeling. “Cooking requires me to pay attention. Smell, sounds, how my food is looking.”

He widened the tongs, lowering them into the salad and tossing it lightly, as if he’d harm the lettuce if he placed any pressure.

“What do you usually cook with?” You noticed his hesitance in squeezing the tong tips together, his grip faltering as he exhaled from frustration. “I’m going to hover my hand below yours. Claw extension. Only if you need it.”

Nanami closed his eyes, slowly breathing out as he tried to not lose his momentum. “Garlic. Fresh minced garlic.” He tried again, slowly working his hands closed until he had salad gripped between the flat tips. He carefully moved it over to the dish, hand shaking but making it with no spillage. “I prefer to mince it and store it in water. Taste great every time.”

You smiled as he looked at you for a hint of validation and gave a nod of acknowledgment.

He moved the tongs back to the serving bowl with a glimmer of determination in the way he rolled his shoulders back. He grabbed more and placed it into the bowl, releasing a with a bit of force before sitting the tongs down. “I think I want a bit more tomato.”

Fork in hand, trying to pin down a slice of tomato so he could cut it. His right hand hovered awkwardly, meant to steady the cutting board, but his left — the one gripping the fork — trembled just enough to betray him.

The fork slipped.

The tomato skidded to the side, smearing juice across the surface. His jaw tightened, but he said nothing.

You didn’t speak either. You knew better than to rush in with help he hadn’t asked for yet.

He reset the slice, pressing the fork down again. His grip was too tight — his knuckles pale from the strain — but the tremor in his fingers wouldn’t let up. The fork scraped against the board, missing the tomato entirely this time.

A sharp pain ran through his forefinger and he dropped the fork, cursing under his breath as he massaged his purlicue.

His gaze stayed locked on the tomato, his shoulders tense.

“You did good. You and the tongs are quite the dynamic duo.”

Nanami felt a heated tear well in his eye before he sucked it back in. “This. Its all so hard sometimes. A fork? I can’t hold a damn fork and its been months.”

He needed to let the frustrations out. It was going to be the only way he could get over those hurdles to feeling whole again.

You stood in silence for a moment, giving him space to process and feel. “Don’t give yourself a timeline but do give yourself grace.”

“Is this all worth it?” You weren’t sure if he was talking to you or himself until he took a few steps back and leaned against the counter looking at you. “Will I be the same person I was before all this? Because I feel like even when I’m giving 200%, I’m failing with no progress.”

“This feels like it’s never going to get better,” Nanami said, his voice low — almost too calm, but there was an edge to it. A rare crack in the carefully composed man standing next to you.

The words hung between you both, heavier than the silence.

You gave him a moment before you spoke. “It’s frustrating,” you said softly. “I know.”

Nanami’s jaw shifted, his lips pressing into a firm line. He didn’t respond right away, as if letting the admission sit out in the open was already more than he was prepared for.

His hand flexed at his side — open, then closed — before, at last, he exhaled through his nose. “Can you help me?”

The question was quiet, but it felt like a victory in its own right.

You nodded, letting him take a few steps forward before stepping in slowly so he had the chance to pull back if he wanted. When he didn’t, you picked up the fork, steadying the tomato with your other hand. The prongs sank into the skin with a soft pop — a simple act, but weighted with everything unspoken.

Nanami’s hand hovered near yours for a moment, then dropped back to his side.

He didn’t thank you, but the small, almost imperceptible nod he gave was enough.

You didn’t push for more words. Instead, you handed him the knife, stepping back just far enough to let him reclaim some of the space —he had let you stand just a little closer, and it was a sign that he was willing to let you in to help.

[kathaelipwse]

If Only You Could See Yourself | Bang chan

Synopsis: You’ve never seen yourself the way Chan does—where he sees beauty, you see flaws. Every time he calls you beautiful, you dismiss it, unable to believe. But one night, as your doubts consume you, Chan refuses to let you fade into them. With gentle words and unwavering patience, he holds you together, determined to make you see what he’s always seen. Maybe, just maybe, you’ll start to believe him.

Warnings: self-hate, honestly just angst, comfort

Word Count: 1.1k

Author's Note: This might trigger a few readers. I am going through a turmoil and honestly chan is my comfort person so yeah..

It was a day off, you and chan have been dating since 4 years now, though he was busy he never really failed to make time for you and compliment you every now and then.

The first time Chan called you beautiful, you laughed. Not out of joy, but because the word felt foreign—misplaced, even. You thought he was joking. Maybe being playful, the way he always was. But when you turned to see the sincerity in his eyes, something inside you twisted. Uncomfortable. Unfamiliar. You brushed it off.

The second time, you just shook your head. A soft, almost involuntary reaction, like swatting away a fly. You didn’t want to argue, didn’t want to make it a thing. But Chan noticed. He always did. He let it go that time, but the way his brows furrowed told you he was thinking about it.

The third time, you flinched.

That was when Chan really started paying attention.

Tonight, the weight in your chest is heavier than usual. You don’t know why—maybe you do, but it’s easier to pretend you don’t. It’s just another night, another round of existing in a body that doesn’t feel like yours, in a mind that never stops whispering cruel things.

Chan sits on the couch beside you, his arm draped lazily over the backrest. The room is warm, cozy, filled with the soft hum of background noise from the TV. You should feel safe here. But that voice in your head is louder than the comfort of his presence.

“You okay?” Chan’s voice is soft, careful.

You nod automatically. “Yeah. Just tired.”

It’s not a lie, but it’s not the truth either. You don’t look at him when you say it. Instead, you focus on the way your fingers pick at the hem of your sleeves.

Chan shifts, turning to face you more fully. “You sure? You’ve been quiet all night.”

You shrug. “Just one of those days.”

His gaze lingers on you, searching. You know he wants to press, but he doesn’t. Instead, he offers you a small smile and says, “You’re still beautiful, you know.”

You freeze. The air in the room changes. The words hang between you, heavy and unbearable.

Your stomach twists violently. Your throat tightens. Something inside you snaps, raw and unfiltered. Before you can stop yourself, the words spill out.

“I don’t get it,” you whisper.

Chan blinks. “What?”

You shake your head, frustration bubbling beneath your skin. “Why do you keep saying things like that?”

He tilts his head, brows knitting together. “Because they’re true.”

You laugh, but it’s hollow. “No, they’re not. You just—” You take a shaky breath. “You see me through rose-colored glasses, Chan. You don’t have to lie to make me feel better.”

Chan stares at you, something unreadable flashing in his expression. “You think I’m lying?”

You swallow hard, unable to meet his gaze. “I think… I think you’re wrong.”

His voice is quieter now, more careful. “Wrong about what?”

“About me,” you say, finally looking at him. “About everything you think I am.”

Chan’s jaw tightens. He shifts forward, closing the distance between you. His hands reach out, hesitating for only a moment before cupping your face, thumbs grazing your cheekbones. His touch is warm, grounding.

“Look at me,” he murmurs.

You do. And it’s a mistake, because the way he’s looking at you—like you’re the most precious thing in the world—makes your chest ache.

“I don’t see you through rose-colored glasses,” he says, voice steady but thick with emotion. “I see you exactly as you are.”

Your lip trembles. “Then you must be looking at the wrong person.”

Chan exhales sharply, shaking his head. “No,” he says firmly. “No, I see you. The real you. I see the way you care about people more than yourself. I see the way you laugh when you think no one’s listening. I see the way you light up when you talk about the things you love. I see every little thing that makes you you—and you have no idea how fucking beautiful that is.”

Tears blur your vision. “Stop.”

“I won’t,” he says, voice cracking. “Because I wish—God, I wish you could see yourself through my eyes.”

Your breath catches. The words hit something deep, something you didn’t know was still soft inside you. A sob escapes before you can swallow it down, and then the dam breaks.

Chan pulls you into his arms before you can collapse. His embrace is strong, unshakable, as if he’s trying to hold together all the pieces of you that are falling apart. He strokes your hair, whispering soothing things you can’t make out over the sound of your own broken cries.

“I’ve got you,” he murmurs. “I’m right here. I’ve always been right here.”

You clutch onto him, fingers digging into the fabric of his shirt like he’s the only thing tethering you to this world.

For the first time, you let yourself believe him.

Later, when your breathing evens out and the tears have dried, you’re still curled against him. He hasn’t let go, hasn’t loosened his grip even once.

Chan presses a soft kiss to your forehead. “You don’t have to believe me yet,” he says quietly. “But let me prove it to you. Let me remind you every day until you do.”

You close your eyes, exhaling shakily. “Okay.”

And for now, that’s enough.

That night, Chan doesn’t let you sleep alone. When you hesitate, standing by your bedroom door as he prepares to leave, he simply tilts his head. “Do you want me to stay?”

You don’t answer right away, but the way you tug at your sleeves gives you away.

Chan sighs softly, stepping forward. “I’ll stay as long as you need.”

So he does.

You lie in bed, facing away from him at first, trying to keep space between you. But the storm in your head doesn’t quiet, even with him near. After a while, your body moves on its own, shifting closer, until your back is pressed lightly against his chest.

Chan doesn’t say anything. He just wraps an arm around you, securing you in place like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

“You’re safe,” he whispers into your hair. “You’re enough. Always.”

You don’t know if you believe him yet, but you let his warmth chase away the cold. Just for tonight.

The next morning, you wake up to soft sunlight filtering through your curtains. Chan is still there, one arm draped protectively over your waist. His slow, even breaths brush against the back of your neck.

You shift slightly, and he stirs. “Morning,” he murmurs sleepily.

You swallow thickly. “Morning.”

Chan tightens his hold just a little. “How are you feeling?”

You don’t have an answer. Not yet. But for the first time in a long time, the weight in your chest feels a little lighter.

So you settle for the truth.

“I think… I think I’m okay.”

Chan smiles against your skin, kissing your forehead and says. “Good.”

---

[minorlyatfault]

❝𝐈 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔, 𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐕𝐄𝐘, 𝐈 𝐃𝐎𝐍'𝐓 𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐄 !❞ j. todd x f!reader

i run in & turn on the lights,

run my hands to his short, black hair,

"i love you, harvey, i don't care."

𝓦arnings: grammatical errors. the joker & his stupid, ugly, rusty, stinky crowbar.

𝓝otes

001. weejendn reached 200!!9#$($(#($ ohmygods THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU..DNDSSKJS

002. SCREAMING

003. idea ws by @/rob1nzex because i don't tolerate jason todd angst. ZzldaLSVR MEANLONE

004. ppl r prolly annoyed w my works bc most of them r js comforting j. todd. IMSORRRIRYDHDJ i js lobelobelobe comforting j. todd

jason returns home earlier than he normally does. not because the streets of gotham are somehow safer▰just because he's tired. his body is weighed down as he locks his bike in the garage of his apartment building. the night air is chilly, nipping at the edges of his jacket, but he doesn't even notice. he should eat something. he should wait for you. but he won't.

he pulls himself up the stairs, unlocks the door, & enters his apartment. it's nothing like the manor, where there is always someone awake, where the floors creak under the weight of too many bodies, where alfred would make him eat before he could do anything else. here, it's just him.

well, sometimes.

your keys aren’t by the door, which means you’re probably at work. jason’s aware of that, so he doesn’t wait around. he tosses his helmet onto the couch, shrugs off his jacket, & heads straight for the bathroom.

the shower is hot, but he hardly flinches. he washes himself off, zoning out as the blood(his & others' mostly others')rinses away down the drain. his fingers dig into the bruises along his ribs, seeing how painful they are. not bad. he's had worse.

then he dries off, puts on a pair of sweats, & flops onto the bed. the sheets are cold. though, they wouldn't be if you were here. but you're not, so he goes to bed early.

he shouldn't. he knows what happens when he goes to bed too early.

jason doesn't dream much▰at least, not about anything good. tonight is no different.

the crowbar swings.

his ribs crack.

joker's laughing, & he's down on the floor, choking, blood in his lips. he struggles to get up, but his arms refuse to move. every part of him aches. he can't catch his breath▰

the joker swings again.

& again.

& again.

again.

again. again. again. again.

jason jolts awake. screamed. his muscles shaking wildly, his breathing clipped & harsh. his heart thudding in his chest, & he feels sure he still feels the memory agony of the crowbar digging into his skin.

the room is black.

quiet.

no one runs in to turn on the light.

jason lets out a deep breath, his body still shaking, & runs a hand through his short, black hair. it's okay. it's okay. it's okay. he's accustomed to this. he can do it. he’s used to this. he should get used to this. he▰

the door opens.

light comes into the room.

jason doesn't have time to move before you barge in, wearing your hello kitty pajamas, you look like you just came out of the shower. when did you arrive?

"jay?" you're whispery, but urgent, as if you're not sure he won't disappear on you if you're too loud.

he doesn't move. he just blinks at you, still trapped between the past & the now. he didn't expect you. he didn't expect anyone.

you sigh, moving closer, & before he can tell you anything, you move in & ran your fingers through his hair, just as he'd done moments before. your touch is soft, cautious, centering. like he's some delicate art that's meant to be in a museum. jason's shoulders relax a bit, as if the burden of his own head is just a little less heavy with you around.

"you're okay," you whisper. "you're safe."

jason swallows. his throat is tightened he wants to tell you something, but all that gets out is, "you weren't supposed to be home yet."

you give a soft laugh, continuing to run your fingers through his hair. "i got off early." you pause before continuing, "are you okay?"

jason laughs harshly, turning away. "yeah. just a nightmare."

you don't appear to believe him, but you don't press. you sit down next to him on the bed, your hand still in his hair, letting the silence remain. jason allows you to.

for a moment, neither of you speaks.

then, softly, jason says, "i don't understand why you stay."

you blink. "what?"

his jaw tightens. "you're too good. & i'm just…" he takes a harsh breath, shaking his head. "i don't know. i don't want to mess you up."

your brows furrow, but your voice remains soft. "jason."

"i mean it," he grumbles. "i don't want to▰taint you. you should be with someone▰"

"say 'better' & i'm gonna hit you," you cut in, & jason looks at you, taken aback. you're frowning at him now, but not angrily. it's more frustration. sadness. you're upset.(no shit)

you, once again, let out a sigh & reposition so you're facing him correctly. "you ever seen a pomegranate?"

jason blinks. "what?"

"a pomegranate," you say again. "it's messy. red & kinda violent-looking when you open it up. if you're careless, it stains everything. but if you take your time with it. if you're patient, it's sweet. worth it." your thumb traces lightly over his temple. "you think you're just a mess, jason. but you're not. you've just never been handled right."

jason looks at you.

you look back.

for a moment, you wonder if he's going to fight. perhaps he's going to sneer, roll his eyes, inform you that you're wrong. but he doesn't. he simply looks… exhausted.

he slowly exhales, his eyes closing as he leans into your touch, & your heart breaks.

you shift your position, now lying beside him, still running your fingers through his hair. "i love you, jay." you whisper. "i don't care that you think you're messy, or broken, or whatever else your mind is trying to make you think. i love you, i'm not leaving. mess me up all you want. taint me. you're worth the mess.”

jason doesn't answer immediately. but eventually, his hand reaches for yours, interlacing his & your fingers together.

"…okay," he whispers.

you smile, laying a kiss on his lips.

"okay."

© minorlyatfault, 2025.

[eepy-cookies]

I will ask as anon for I’m to scared to ask otherwise but can we please have more art of

Characters: Shadow Milk Cookie x G/N! ReaderContent Warning: Angst, Hurt/Comfort

You made a little story of with that title and I swear you made one art of it and I really want to see more art of it like a little sorry book if that happen if that’s okay for I love the story so much how we meet shadow milk again after we waked up

I didnt made a title at that time since I just want to type a one shot. So I might as well add some explanations about this with only two arts! Oh btw, if anyone is a bit offended by this. I’m sorry. Your warned in advance about the yapping.

About his name: He can be called as either Blueberry Milk Cookie, Blue Moon Cookie, Blueberry Yogurt Cookie, and etc tho its safe to call him Sage of Truth. At that time his soul jam is similar to Pure Vanilla for a good solid reason, it was the first original soul jam but I do want to add a tiny head-canon that there should be a “closed eye” to his soul jam but the canon was just like Pure Vanilla’s. Just like what happens at the Blueberry Yogurt Academy before it was abandoned, it was ONCE his second history wanting to teach the cookies more knowledge while his first being crated. Plus meeting Y/N Cookie allowed him to experience what falling in love feels like.

About Y/N Cookie: They made their own appearance as a mortal cookie but had an incurable illness that the witches made a mistake, but what if it wasn’t and it was part of their experiment? Although it was very cruel Y/N Cookie was one of the cookies who suggested Sage of Truth to create that said academy to not find a way to get the cure but also to create memories that can last through time. But they knew their time is up and yet they wanted to live more just to see him one more time, after all they love him.

About the Incurable Illness: Its hard to find a better title for the name so lets call it “Incomplete Dough Illness” its just similar to humans who had disabilities that won’t let them survive much longer, however even tho it’s incurable it’s incurable since it was THE PAST before modern technology was introduced to the new generation of cookies, wether or not it can be cured it can never be cured despite everything.

The life longer spell: A spell casted by the Sage of Truth before he had become Shadow Milk Cookie, it extended a cookies lifespan thus converting them to become almost immortal, the word almost is that a Crescent Moon needs to be presented in order for that spell to perform well. The consequences is becoming corrupted and if that caster perishes that person perishes with them. If that person is also sealed they are comatose until the seal is broken and if that unconscious person is touched or worse that unfortunately cookie will live the most unluckiest and cursed life till they perish.

What happens to them: Shadow Milk Cookie took Y/N Cookie with him to a more safer place. Of course that would make the other cookies worry but Pure Vanilla told them that they will be find, after all Y/N Cookie is the ONLY COOKIE Shadow Milk Cookie recognize despite them being new in a newer world that cannot go back. Of course this time Shadow Milk Cookie CANNOT afford to let go of Y/N Cookie, they are immortally connected with him but they are still weak so they need good care by Shadow Milk Cookie himself (it has become a connected soulmates). If that makes you happy you can see Y/N Cookie still being sweet to him despite everything, sure it takes alot of time for them to understand but you should know that they are an understanding and wise cookie.

Bonus: Shadow Milk Cookie got a kiss in the end. A comforting one. ❤️

[w2soneshots]

Need! F1 reader gets in an accident internet reaction and comfort x W2S 🥹🥹

Close call -W2S

words: 0.5k+

warnings: angst, worrying, ‘near death’ experience, hospitals.

summary: you’re an f1 driver and you crash. Your boyfriend, Harry, and the internet hold their breath as they wait to find out if you’re alright.

notes: hii babe! I love this idea, though, I have absolutely no clue about the bts details of f1 so I apologise🥲🫶🏼. Anyways… enjoy!!💫 (this is a mix of my usual smau’s with some actual writing for the Harry bits🫂)

Liked by f1, faithlouisak and others

y/username: one day to go!!💨

-comments-

wroetoshaw: ❤️

taliamar: woo! can't wait to watch girly🥳💞

-> y/username: hehehe

y/nfanpage21: AHHH, I'm so excited

user: the nerves must be crazyyyyy😖

y/username posted a new story!

wroetoshaw posted a new story!

When the race began, the stadium erupted with cheers and whistles. Everyone watched as you and the other drivers sat in your cars and raced around the track. Harry sat nervously by himself, which is something he always did since he was too focused on what you were doing to talk to anyone.

It all happened so fast. There was a loud boom on part of the track that wasn't far from the starting point. Harry stood up quickly, his head whipping around to see where the sound came from.

"It looks like that's y/n y/l/n in the barracks!" The intercom system rang out. Harry's heart stopped. "No," he whispered under his breath, voice cracking, "please..."

There was fire, smoke and silence. Everyone was patiently waiting to hear if you were okay, though, Harry... not so patient.

"She's out! Don't worry folks, as usual she'll be escorted to a hospital but she looks to be alright!" Harry practically fell back into his chair. He'd never been so terrified in his life.

Harry immediately found his way out and left the race. The f1 team had quickly organised a car to take him to the hospital, which he was grateful for. His knee was bopping and his hands were sweating throughout the entire drive.

When they pulled up there was press outside and as soon as he got out of the car he was practically swarmed. Some of the hospitals security pushed them back, so he could get into the hospital.

The staff already knew who he was here to see, though they still double checked his name. "She's right this way," one of the older staff said as she lead him through the hallway.

When he got to your door he took a deep breath before opening it. The doctor was just leaving after fully examining you. "Hi," you whispered as he approached, your voice slightly horse.

He rushed over and sat by your side. Before he could say anything you told him what he was desperate to know. "I'm okay," you said calmly. He let out a relieved breath. "A little sore and stink of smoke but fine otherwise. Sorry for scaring you love."

He leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead and then one to your lips. "Jesus. I love you," he whispered, eyes glossy. "I love you too Haz."

Liked by wroetoshaw, taliamar and others

y/username: thank you all so much for the kind messages. I'm okay, just a little bruised up, and am spending my time resting up so I can get back on the track! I'll see you soon🤍

-comments-

faithlouisak: so glad you're okay babe!!🥺💞

-> y/username: I love you cutie😙

y/nfanpage21: girly you had the whole internet on the edge of their seats, I'm so relieved❤️‍🩹

user: okay but watching the old Barbie movies is incredibly real

[luvvcho]

❅・WHISPER OF THE HEART

SYNOPSIS — The three times he tries to tell you, and the one time he actually does.

WC — (4k)

CONTENT: SFW, suggestiveness, angst , hurt/comfort, family issues/neglect, unrequited love (or so they think), alcohol/being drunk, self-worth issues/insecurity, mild jealousy, late-night drives & emotional talks, emotional repression, gojo deserves sleep but never gets it™, soft!gojo but he’s suffering in silence, gojo is really down bad.

a/n: highkey wrote this half asleep... but anyway i finished this faster than i thought! comment if you wanna be added to the taglist (just found out what this is lol) for this series :p m. list | < prev | next >

Somewhere near Tokyo, Japan 2009

Gojo lets the steering wheel glide through his fingers before tightening his grip on the expensive leather again. His palms are sweaty, his knuckles white, and the three hours of sleep he got the night before are finally catching up to him, creeping into the edges of his vision like static.

The plan for tonight had been simple: finish up paperwork at his father’s company, where he had been offered forced to start training straight out of high school. Then, he’d head home, maybe work out, maybe waste time bothering Suguru over the phone before eventually crashing. A mindless, predictable routine.

Instead, he finds himself almost an hour outside of Tokyo, in the middle of god knows where.

His foot eases off the gas slightly as he glances around, taking in the unfamiliar roads lined with trees and dim streetlights, their glow barely enough to cut through the darkness. The city was nowhere in sight. There were no high-rises, no neon billboards, no distant hum of traffic. Just the low rumble of his own engine and the occasional flicker of headlights from a passing car.

He exhales sharply, rubbing at his tired eyes with one hand while keeping the other steady on the wheel.

What the hell was he even doing out here?

The truth settles in his chest, heavy and uncomfortable. He didn’t want to drive this far. He didn’t want to end up here at all. But somehow, without thinking, he had ended up exactly where he always does when everything feels too much— wherever you are. Gojo got the call just as he was wrapping up work. You were drunk. Alone. Over an hour away from the city at some stupid college party in an abandoned warehouse.

He was exhausted. Three hours of sleep deep into a week where everything felt like too much. His head hurt from staring at contracts and numbers he didn’t care about, and honestly, the only thing getting him through the evening had been the promise of leftover Chinese food waiting for him in his fridge.

But when you called, he came. Right?

Even if his body screamed at him to go home. Even if he knew he shouldn’t always make it this easy for you. Even if the rational part of his brain told him that one day, this whole thing, his stupid highschool crush that never seemed to go away, was going to wreck him.

Still, he grabbed his keys, got in his car, and drove.

And now, almost an hour outside of Tokyo, in the middle of god-knows-where, he’s gripping the wheel with sweaty palms and trying not to let exhaustion drag him under.

He should be annoyed. Wants to be annoyed.

But all he can think about is you waiting, unsteady, needing him. And that, somehow, is enough to keep his foot pressed firm against the gas.

As he rounds the corner onto a dimly lit street, he hears it before he sees it. The deep bass of the music rattling the ground beneath his feet, the drunken laughter and shouts of students spilling out into the night.

His jaw tightens as he follows the noise, pulling up outside the warehouse. A mess of people lingers near the entrance, bodies swaying in a haze of alcohol and cigarette smoke. The place reeks of bad decisions and even worse company. And then he sees you.

You’re sitting on the curb, a little hunched over, your arms wrapped loosely around your knees. The party continues on behind you, people laughing, stumbling, yelling. But you’re separate from all of it.

For a second, relief washes over him. You’re safe. You’re not lost in that chaotic mess of bodies, not pressed against some guy who doesn’t know when to back off. You’re here. He exhales, tension leaving his shoulders. But then you look up.

Your tear-stained eyes meet his, mascara smudged at the corners, eyeliner streaking down your cheeks.

He steps out, shutting the door behind him, stuffing his hands into his pockets as he strolls over with a smirk. “Hey, gorgeous.”

You blink sluggishly at him before a slow, sleepy smile spreads across your lips. “Hi…” you mumble, then suddenly, as if remembering something, you groan and cover your face. “Don’t look at me. I’m not gorgeous right now.”

Gojo huffs out a laugh, crouching in front of you. “Bit late for that.”

You peek through your fingers, pout deepening. “Y’always see me like this.”

“Like what?” He tilts his head, playing dumb.

“Pathetic.”

Before he can respond, you push yourself to your feet. Not steadily, not gracefully, but you manage. Sort of? You take one step forward, then another, before your balance wavers.

Gojo moves to catch you, but you beat him to it, stumbling straight into him, arms wrapping lazily around his middle.

He stiffens for half a second.

Because shit.

Your dress clings to you, thin and weightless, like it was made to drive him insane. Not because he’s just noticing, but because he’s spent the last four years trying not to. But now, with you pressed up against him, with your warmth seeping through the fabric of his shirt, with the scent of whatever sweet perfume you’re wearing clouding his already exhausted brain.

God.

You sigh against his chest, voice muffled. “Can’t believe you actually came.”

Gojo blinks. Focuses. Ignores the way his hands instinctively settle at your waist. “Yeah, well,” he says, clearing his throat, “I am at your beck and call”

You lean back just enough to look up at him, blinking slowly like it takes effort.

“Alright, princess,” he says, “Think you can walk the rest of the way, or am I carrying you?”

You scoff, swaying slightly. “I can walk.”

“Right. Cuz that little show just now was real convincing.”

You narrow your eyes at him, then take one defiant step forward before immediately tripping over… nothing??

Gojo catches your wrist with ease, smirking.

And despite your protests, you let him guide you, his fingers firm and steady around yours. He opens the car door, steadying you as you lower yourself into the back seat. You move sluggishly, like even the smallest effort is too much, and he frowns as he reaches over to buckle you in. Your purse gets placed beside you before he shuts the door and circles around to his side, slipping into the driver’s seat with a sigh.

The engine hums to life, but for a second, he doesn’t move.

His gaze lingers on you through the rearview mirror. You’re curled up against the window, lashes heavy, lips slightly parted, your breath fogging up the glass. His fingers flex against the steering wheel, something unspoken settling in his chest before he shakes it off and shifts the car into reverse, backing away from the warehouse.

You’ve never been like this before.

Sure, he’s seen you tipsy; laughing a little louder, cheeks pink with warmth, words spilling out without a filter. But this? This is different. This is the first time you’ve ever let yourself fall this far.

The GPS screen glows softly as he punches in your address, the familiar route flashing across the screen. – ETA: 1:03

He exhales, rolling his shoulders as he glances at you again.

“Don’t throw up in my car, please.”

You hum in response, eyes barely cracking open. “M’not gonna,” you mumble, but your voice wobbles, breaking slightly at the end.

He sighs, shaking his head. “Just… if you do feel sick, tell me, alright?”

You mumble something incoherent, and he decides to take it as a yes.

The road stretches out ahead of him, empty and quiet. He tightens his grip on the wheel, keeping his eyes forward.

Because if he looks at you too long, if he lets himself really think about how easily you trust him, how you always call him when you need someone, he’s going to lose the battle he’s been fighting for years.

“So,” he says, his voice cutting through the quiet hum of the car. “We gonna talk about why you’ve been crying?”

You shift against the seat, barely opening your eyes. “Can’t,” you mumble. “Too embarrassing.”

Gojo snorts. “C’mon. I’ve known you since we were fourteen. I’m pretty sure I’ve seen you do worse.”

You hum, considering it, as the car smoothly merges onto the highway. The dim lights shrink behind you, fading into the distance, leaving only the soft glow of passing streetlights and the rhythmic sound of tires against pavement.

For a while, you don’t say anything, and Gojo doesn’t push. He just lets the silence stretch, waiting.

“Remember that guy I told you about?”

He gulps. “The one in your language seminar?”

“Yeah.” He already doesn’t like where this is going.

You continue, voice softer now, like saying it out loud makes it more real. “He was there tonight. He invited me, actually.”

Gojo’s fingers tighten around the steering wheel, knuckles paling.

“I thought maybe… I dunno.” Your voice is slightly more steady now. “I thought something was there between us.”

His jaw clenches. His grip on the wheel tightens. He doesn’t want to ask, but he does anyway. “And?”

Your breath hitches slightly, and when you speak again, your voice is quieter. “And I tried to kiss him.”

Gojo freezes, his gaze flickering back to you in the mirror.

His heart stalls for half a second before it kicks back in, pounding hard against his ribs. He swallows, mouth suddenly dry.

You keep going, oblivious to the way his grip on the steering wheel turns bone-white.

“But he pulled away,” you admit. “Said he doesn’t… doesn’t like kissing.” You scoff, shaking your head. “And I believed him. I told him it was fine, that we could still be friends.”

Gojo exhales slowly through his nose, forcing his expression to stay neutral. Fucking idiot, he thinks.

He should say something. He wants to say something. But you’re still talking.

“He said he’d be back. Told me to wait.” Your voice wavers, and he knows what’s coming before you even say it.

“He never came back,” you slur. “So I went looking for him.”

He doesn’t realize how hard he’s pressing the gas pedal until the speedometer ticks a little higher than it should. He forces himself to ease off, fingers aching from how tight he’s gripping the wheel.

“And?” he asks, voice low, strained.

You let out a small, bitter laugh. “Found him making out with some girl in the back.”

Silence.

Gojo breathes in slow, exhales through his nose. He should say something, anything. He should tell you that guy’s a fucking idiot, tell you that you deserve better, tell you that you should’ve never wasted your time on him.

Instead, what comes out is:

“What a dumbass.”

You hum in agreement, but it’s empty, hollow. “Guess I should’ve seen it coming.”

Gojo risks a glance in the rearview mirror. You’re staring out the window, fingers absently picking at the hem of your dress, your shoulders curled inward like you’re trying to disappear.

And fuck.

He hates this. Hates that he wasn’t there to stop it from happening, hates that he has to sit here and listen to you talk about someone else like this. Hates that you kissed him (or tried to). Hates that some guy got to have that moment, got to see the way you look just before a kiss, got to be the one you wanted tonight, even just for a second.

Most of all, he hates that you’re hurting, and he can’t do a damn thing about it.

His throat tightens, his chest burning, aching, twisting in ways he doesn’t know how to fix.

He should’ve been the one. “Toru.”

Your voice pulls him out of his thoughts, sharp but fragile, like you’re barely holding yourself together.

His heart lurches at the sound. Because it’s you, because it’s the nickname only you call him.

But then you sigh, pressing your forehead against the cold window. “You’re a guy, right?”

Gojo snorts, the tension in his chest easing just enough for him to fall back into his usual teasing. “Last I checked.”

“Then tell me.” Your voice is quieter now, almost hesitant. You shift slightly, facing him from the back seat, eyes hazy but still searching. “What’s wrong with me?”

“What?”

You let out a breathy, humorless laugh. “Why has no one ever liked me?”

His throat goes dry.

“Not once,” you continue. “No guys in high school ever asked me out. The ones I liked never liked me back. And now this?” You gesture vaguely, frustration laced in your voice. “I just don’t get it. What is it about me that’s so… unloveable?”

Gojo’s entire body locks up.

Because.. are you serious?

You, who he has spent the last four years trying not to love too much, not to touch too long, not to stare at like you hung the damn moon— you actually think that?

His fingers tighten so hard around the wheel he thinks he might snap it in half.

“What kind of dumbass logic is that?” he mutters.

You frown, shoulders curling inward. “It’s not dumbass logic, Satoru, it’s just—”

“No,” he cuts you off, voice sharper than he intended. His jaw clenches as he forces himself to take a breath. “You don’t get to say that.”

Your lips press together, confused, vulnerable in a way that makes his chest ache.

Gojo doesn’t know how to do this. He doesn’t know how to tell you the truth without telling you. So he exhales, trying to steady himself, trying to be careful with the words he chooses next.

“You ever think,” he starts, voice quieter now, steadier, gentler, “that maybe it’s not you that’s the problem?”

You blink at him through the mirror. “Then what is it?”

Gojo grips the wheel so tightly his knuckles turn white.

It’s not that no one likes you, he wants to say. You just keep liking the wrong guy.

But instead, he exhales, rolling his shoulders like he can shake the weight off. Keeps his gaze fixed on the road. Forces a smirk.

“I dunno,” he lies, voice light, easy. “Maybe guys are just fucking stupid.”

You huff out a small laugh, but it’s tired, empty. “Guess so.”

And Gojo doesn’t say anything else. Because if he does, if he so much as breathes the wrong way, he’s afraid the words he’s been swallowing for four years might just slip out.

“It’s just…” You hesitate, fingers curling in your lap. “No, never mind.”

Gojo sighs, glancing at you through the mirror. “Nope. Not letting you do that. Tell me.”

You exhale, rolling your head against the window, staring out at the passing lights. “You wouldn’t get it,” you mumble. “You’ve had a girlfriend before. Everyone I know has been in a relationship at least once.”

He flinches at the reminder. The girl he dated in senior year (if you could even call it that). A little over a month, barely anything. He never liked her much, never felt the way he should have. Maybe because no matter how hard he tried, she wasn’t you.

“I just don’t know why I can’t get anyone to like me,” you admit, voice quieter now, like you’re talking more to yourself than to him. “Like, what am I doing wrong?”

Gojo exhales, staring at the road ahead. And before he can stop himself, before he can think better of it—

“You know I love you, right?”

Silence. Then, a small, sleepy smile tugs at your lips.

“I love you too,” you murmur. “You’re my best friend.”

He forces himself to chuckle, to keep his voice light. “Your bestest friend.”

You hum in agreement, stretching slightly before slumping deeper into the seat. A second passes, then another, and when Gojo glances at the mirror again, your eyes are drooping, lashes fluttering against your cheeks.

He waits for you to say something else, but instead, you sigh, shifting until your head rests against the window.

“…What were we talking about again?” you mumble, voice thick with sleep.

“Nothing important,” Gojo lets out a small, breathy laugh, shaking his head. “Go to sleep, princess, I’ll wake you up when we’re home.”

You hum once more, barely conscious now, and within seconds, your breathing evens out.

It’s a little past one when Gojo pulls up in front of your apartment building. The streets are quiet now, the world settled into a lull, save for the distant hum of traffic and the occasional flicker of a passing car.

He shifts the car into park and exhales, glancing at you through the rearview mirror. You’re curled up against the window, lips slightly parted, face relaxed in the soft glow of the streetlights. Peaceful. Innocent. Completely unaware of the way he’s been drowning in his own thoughts for the past hour.

Gojo drums his fingers against the steering wheel before turning in his seat, reaching back to nudge your shoulder.

“Hey,” he says, voice softer than usual. “We’re here.” 

You stir slightly but don’t wake.

He tries again, fingers brushing against your cheek this time. “C’mon, I know you’re tired, but I’m not carrying you all the way upstairs.”

You groan, turning away from him, burrowing deeper into the seat.

He huffs, shaking his head with a smirk before unbuckling your seatbelt for you. “Alright, princess, up you go.”

Reluctantly, you blink your eyes open, slow and sluggish. “Wha’ time is it?” you mumble.

“Too late for you to still be passed out in my car,” he teases. “Let’s go.”

You manage to get out, swaying slightly the moment your feet hit the pavement. Without thinking, Gojo’s hand finds the small of your back, steadying you before you can tip over completely.

“Yeah, no,” he mutters, tightening his grip. “You’re gonna break something if I let you go up alone.”

You don’t argue, just let him guide you into the building, down the quiet hallway to your apartment. When you finally reach your door, you fumble for your keys, missing the lock twice before Gojo sighs and takes them from your hand, slotting the key in effortlessly.

You step inside, blinking sleepily, and Gojo lingers at the threshold.

“You got it from here?” he asks, already knowing the answer.

You pause, looking over your shoulder at him. “Wait for me?”

His brows lift slightly. “You sure you don’t just want to pass out in your dress?”

You glare at him, well, as much as you can in your drunken haze, before kicking off your shoes and stumbling toward your closet. “Give me five minutes,” you mumble, already pulling out a set of pajamas.

Gojo sighs but steps inside, leaning against the wall just outside your bedroom door as you disappear inside. He hears the soft rustling of fabric, the muffled sounds of you grumbling under your breath, the faint thud of something hitting the floor.

A few minutes later, you shuffle back out, dressed in an oversized t-shirt and sleep shorts, eyes barely open.

He pushes off the wall, stepping toward you. “Alright, come on, let’s get you to bed.”

He leads you to the edge of your mattress. You sit down, and before you can do much else, he’s tugging the blankets over you, tucking you in with practiced ease.

Just as he turns to leave, your fingers weakly grab at his sleeve.

“Toru,” you mumble, voice barely above a whisper.

He stills, glancing down at you. “Yeah?”

You blink up at him, cheeks slightly flushed, though he can’t tell if it’s from the alcohol or exhaustion. “Forgot to take my makeup off.”

Gojo exhales a small laugh, shaking his head. “Of course you did.”

He leaves for a moment, disappearing into your bathroom before returning with a makeup wipe. He kneels beside your bed, pulling you up slightly to sit, and tilts your chin with a gentle touch.

“Close your eyes,” he murmurs.

You obey without question, too tired to protest. His fingers brush against your cheek as he wipes away the remnants of mascara and foundation, careful, steady. He’s never done this before, but somehow, he knows exactly how to be gentle with you.

He watches as the tension in your face fades, as your breathing evens out under his touch. He lingers, just for a second longer than necessary, before finally tossing the wipe aside.

“There,” he mutters. “All clean.”

Your eyes flutter open slightly, a lazy, sleepy smile tugging at your lips. “Thanks, Toru.”

He swallows, something warm and aching curling in his chest.

“…Yeah,” he says, voice quieter now. “Anytime.”

He stands to leave, but your fingers wrap around his wrist.

“Stay?” you ask softly. “I don’t wanna be alone.”

Gojo exhales, rubbing a tired hand over his face. For a second, he hesitates, then, he drops onto the floor beside your bed. “Yeah, okay,” he murmurs. “Go to sleep.”

And for the first time all night, you listen to him.

The next morning, you wake up to a dull, throbbing headache and the faint taste of regret lingering on your tongue. The room is dim, soft morning light barely filtering through the curtains, and for a moment, everything feels disoriented. Until you shift slightly and feel the warmth of a blanket tucked snugly around you.

Blinking against the ache behind your eyes, you turn your head and freeze.

Gojo is asleep on the floor, his long limbs sprawled out awkwardly, his head resting at the foot of your bed. His white hair is tousled, one arm draped lazily over his face, and his breathing is slow, even, completely at peace.

Your heart clenches, but before you can process why, a particularly sharp pang of pain shoots through your skull, and you let out a quiet groan.

At the sound, Gojo stirs, blinking blearily up at you before stretching with a lazy yawn. “Morning, sunshine,” he mumbles, voice rough with sleep. “How’s the hangover?”

“Terrible,” you croak, burying your face into your pillow. “Why are you on the floor?”

Gojo pushes himself up with a groan, rolling his shoulders. “Because someone wouldn’t let me leave,” he teases, ruffling his hair. “Which, by the way, you owe me for. My back is killing me.”

You groan again, rolling onto your side to look at him properly. “Ugh. Please tell me I didn’t do anything too embarrassing last night.”

Gojo pauses for half a second.

He remembers it all. The way you clung to him outside the party, the way you called yourself unloveable, the way you looked up at him through tired, glossy eyes and told him you loved him— as a friend.

But you don’t remember.

And for the first time in his life, Gojo is glad you don’t.

“Nah,” he lies smoothly, standing up and stretching. “You were a total angel.”

You squint at him. “You’re lying.”

He grins. “Guess you’ll never know.”

You groan, flopping dramatically back onto your pillows. “You’re the worst.”

Gojo snorts. “And yet, I’m the one getting you water and headache meds.”

That catches your attention. You peek up at him, skeptical. “You’re actually taking care of me?”

He places a hand on his chest, feigning offense. “What, like I wouldn’t?”

You narrow your eyes. “I feel like this is a trap.”

He laughs, already making his way to the kitchen. “Shut up and let me be a good friend for once.”

A few minutes later, he returns with a glass of water and a couple of pills, setting them down on your nightstand. You mumble a half-hearted thanks before sitting up, wincing as you swallow them down.

Gojo watches, hands on his hips, then huffs dramatically. “Alright, move over.”

You blink at him. “Huh?”

He gestures toward the bed. “Move. I spent the night on the floor like a peasant. I’m reclaiming my dignity.”

You laugh, groggy but amused, before shuffling over to make space. “Fine, but if you kick me in your sleep, I’m shoving you off.”

Gojo flops onto the mattress beside you with a relieved sigh, settling into your pillows like he belongs there. “Please, I am an excellent bedmate.”

You roll your eyes but don’t protest when he drapes an arm over his face, already half-asleep again.

And as your headache fades and sleep starts to pull you under again, you don’t think too much about how comfortable this feels.

But Gojo does. And he wonders how much longer he can pretend this is enough.

pls do not copy, repost, or claim my work as your own :) if you have any issues with what i wrote or noticed any mistakes, let me know privately. thank you for reading <3

[arxiwon]

Falling Through the Cracks | sjy

Pairing: Jake Sim x Reader Genre: Angst, Tragedy, Heavy Heartbreak Warnings: Emotional cheating, miscommunication, regret, angst with no comfort, terminal illness, major character death Synopsis: You and Jake were supposed to have forever. But forever was never promised.

The first time you met Jake Sim, he was the boy with the brightest smile and the loudest laugh. He was warm—like the summer sun, like the lingering scent of coffee in the morning, like the feeling of home.

And you loved him for it.

Jake had always been yours, and you had always been his. At least, that’s what you thought.

But love is cruel when it isn’t enough.

It started small—missed calls, late replies, moments where he wasn’t really there even when he was sitting right beside you. At first, you brushed it off. Jake was busy with work, tired from practice, exhausted from always giving so much of himself to everyone.

You told yourself you understood.

Until you saw it.

The way he smiled at her.

It was the same way he used to smile at you.

And suddenly, you weren’t sure if you were his anymore.

“Jake, tell me the truth.”

Your voice wavered as you stood in front of him, your fingers curled into your sleeves to keep them from shaking. Jake was sitting on the couch, his head tilted back against the cushions, but his whole body tensed at your words.

“What do you mean?” he asked, feigning ignorance.

You let out a broken laugh. “You know exactly what I mean.”

Silence.

It stretched between you, an unspoken truth neither of you wanted to say out loud.

Jake swallowed hard, looking down at his hands. “It’s not what you think.”

“Then tell me,” you pleaded, your heart cracking with every second that passed.

He sighed, rubbing his face with both hands. “I… I didn’t mean for it to happen.”

Your stomach twisted. It felt like the floor was crumbling beneath you, like the air had been sucked out of the room.

“So it did happen.”

He didn’t answer.

And that silence told you everything.

Jake never physically cheated on you.

But love isn’t just about the body.

It’s about the heart.

And Jake had given a piece of his heart to someone else.

You knew he still loved you. You could see it in the way he hesitated before leaving, in the way his fingers twitched like he wanted to reach for you but didn’t know if he had the right anymore.

But love alone wasn’t enough.

So you left.

And Jake let you.

A year passed.

You tried to move on. You really did. But there was always something missing—like a phantom limb, like a whisper in the wind, like the ghost of a love that should have lasted a lifetime.

Then, one day, Jake called you.

His voice was hoarse, weaker than you remembered.

“…Can we talk?”

You hesitated. But in the end, you went.

And that’s when you learned the truth.

Jake was sick.

Terminally.

The doctors had given him months.

Your world shattered in an instant.

The love you had tried so hard to bury came rushing back, suffocating you with its weight. Because it didn’t matter how much he had hurt you, how much time you had spent resenting him for breaking your heart—none of that mattered anymore.

Because you were about to lose him.

Forever.

Jake never asked you to stay.

But you did anyway.

Not as his lover, not as his second chance, but as the person who had loved him first and would love him last.

You were there through it all. The doctor visits, the sleepless nights, the pain that left him breathless and exhausted. You held his hand when he was too weak to stand. You ran your fingers through his hair when the weight of it all became too much.

And Jake… he never stopped looking at you like you were his entire world.

Because you were.

And maybe, in another life, he would’ve realized it sooner.

The last time Jake Sim smiled at you, it was different.

It wasn’t the brightest smile in the room. It wasn’t the loudest laugh.

It was soft. Tired. A whisper of what once was.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, his voice barely above a breath.

Tears streamed down your face as you held his hand against your chest. “Don’t.”

He exhaled shakily, his fingers twitching against yours. “If I had more time… I would’ve spent every second proving to you that it was always you. It was only you.”

You bit your lip, choking on a sob. “I know.”

Jake smiled again—just for you.

And then he closed his eyes.

And this time, he didn’t open them again.

You loved Jake Sim with every part of you.

But love wasn’t enough to keep him.

And as you sat there, holding his lifeless hand, you realized—

Jake had always been yours.

And you had always been his.

But forever was never promised.

[f4dedtouch]

╰┈➤ there for you

pairing: fawn!reader x s3 rafe

summary: fawn!reader getting asked out by a random guy on a date the one guys rafe specifically tells her not to go with. light angst with a happy ending.

warnings: mention of cursing, rafe being a bit mean.

you were curled up in bed, highlighter in hand, trying your best to stay focused on your notes. rafe was sprawled beside you, arm tucked behind his head, lazily scrolling through his phone like he had nowhere else to be. this was normal—him hanging around your place, making himself comfortable while you studied, offering absolutely zero help but keeping you company.

for a while, the only sounds in the room were the soft scratch of your pen and the occasional vibration of his phone. but your mind was elsewhere. you’d been holding onto something all day, and you knew if you didn’t say it now, you never would.

taking a quiet breath, you finally spoke. “so… i think i’m going on a date this weekend.”

rafe barely reacted at first, just a slow blink before his eyes flicked to you. “with who?”

you hesitated, shifting on the bed. “you know that guy… uh, logan? the one with the stupid expensive watch he never shuts up about? yeah, him.”

his jaw tensed immediately. “no. don’t go.”

you sighed, setting your highlighter down. “rafe—”

“no, i’m serious,” he cut in, sitting up now, his whole posture shifting. “that guy’s a total dick. i promise you, he’s not a good dude.”

“you say that about every guy,” you argued, crossing your arms. “every single time someone asks me out, you find something wrong with them! i’m tired of it, rafe. i actually wanna give him a chance.”

“and i’m tellin’ you not to waste your time,” he shot back, brows furrowing. “i know guys like him. he doesn’t give a shit about you.”

“oh, and you do?” the words slipped out before you could stop them, and you immediately regretted it. his expression hardened, something unreadable flashing in his eyes.

“yeah,” he said quietly. “i do.”

you swallowed, but the frustration was still there. “i just—i don’t get it. why do you care so much? why can you never just be happy for me?”

rafe scoffed, shaking his head as he stood up. “fine. do whatever you think is right.”

his voice was calm, but you could tell he was pissed. he grabbed his keys, casting you one last glance before muttering a quiet, “goodnight,” and walking out.

you laid back against your pillows with a sigh, staring up at the ceiling, feeling strangely unsettled.

you had put in the effort. the dress, the hair, the subtle makeup. you’d spent way too long deciding on an outfit, checking the mirror one last time before heading out.

and now, you were sitting alone at a candlelit table, fingers gripping your phone as you checked the time again. ten minutes late. fifteen. twenty.

the restaurant was buzzing with couples and conversation, but all you could hear was the pounding of your heart as realization settled in.

he wasn’t coming. all that effort for nothing.

embarrassment crept in, your throat tightening as you quickly grabbed your bag and left, wrapping your arms around yourself as you stepped into the cool night air. you felt so stupid. this was supposed to be your first real date.

your hands shook as you unlocked your phone, pressing the only contact you could think of.

“rafe?” your voice wavered, barely above a whisper.

there was a beat of silence before he answered. “where are you?”

you swallowed hard. “he—he didn’t show up.”

another pause. and then, voice softer now, “i’ll be a little late, yeah? hang on for me.”

you nodded, even though he couldn’t see you.

when rafe finally pulled up, you immediately noticed the way his knuckles looked slightly bruised, like he’d been gripping somethin’ too hard. his breathing was controlled, but there was an edge to him, somethin’ unreadable in his expression. you didn’t say anything.

he didn’t say anything at first either, just opened the passenger door of his truck for you, just reached over and buckled your seatbelt for you, his fingers brushing against your arm for the briefest moment before pulling away.

the car was quiet as he started driving. you couldn’t bring yourself to look at him, shame curling in your stomach.

“i should’ve listened to you,” you mumbled finally, voice small.

rafe exhaled through his nose, his grip tightening slightly on the wheel. “yeah, you should’ve.”

your stomach twisted. “i just—” you shook your head. “i thought maybe, for once, things would be different.”

he glanced at you, and his voice softened. “that ain’t on you. some people are just assholes.”

you bit your lip, guilt gnawin’ at you. “are you mad?”

“no,” he said easily. “just pissed you looked that good for a guy who didn’t deserve to breathe the same air as you.”

you blinked, caught off guard, but he just kept his eyes on the road, like he hadn’t just casually complimented you. I mean he always complimented you but this felt different.

a few minutes passed before he spoke again. “you hungry?”

you shook your head. “not really.”

“yeah, you are.” he pulled into the drive-thru of your favorite fast-food place without waitin’ for an answer. it was a tradition—eating in the car, parked in a quiet spot, just the two of you.

he ordered for you, knowing exactly what you liked, even throwin’ in your favorite dessert.

when you were parked, he handed you your food, watchin’ as you picked at it before finally takin’ a bite.

neither of you talked much, just eatin’ in comfortable silence, the familiar presence of him settlin’ somethin’ deep inside you.

when he finally drove you home, you turned to him, voice quieter now. “thanks for pickin’ me up. and for the food.”

“don’t mention it,” he said, jaw clenchin’ slightly.

but then, his expression softened, and he looked at you, somethin’ unreadable in his eyes. “hey,” he murmured. “if you need a date, let me know, alright? you don’t gotta go out with assholes.”

you let out a quiet laugh, shakin’ your head. “i’ll keep that in mind next time.”

he smirked slightly before leanin’ in, pressin’ a soft kiss to your forehead. “goodnight, sweet girl.”

your heart stuttered. “goodnight, rafe.”

he waited till you got inside then you watched as he pulled away, the glow of his taillights disappearin’ down the road.

what you didn’t know was that when rafe got home, he busied himself with paperwork, emails, anything to keep his hands from curlin’ into fists again.

because the sight of you sittin’ there, all dressed up and lookin’ like a dream, only to be stood up by some loser?

yeah. that was enough to make him wanna beat the guy into the ground all over again.

[misguidedasgardian]

AMOR VINCIT OMNIA II.

II. Floating Jasmines

Summary: He did want to marry you, did he not? 

Warnings: Use of she/her pronouns, reader has hair, Ancient Rome accuracies and inaccuracies, animal slaughter for ritualistic purposes, arranged marriages, age difference (Marcus is late forties reader is 20), cursing, reader gets waxed and takes a milk bath, use of historic characters that don’t belong on this timeline, mentions of consumations, one sided fluff and ANGST a bit in the end, MIGHT MISS SOME WARNINGS

Due to topics discussed and future warnings…

+18, MINORS DNI

Notes: I feel like the first chapter was a bit rushed, but I hope that I can find a “pace” I’m comfortable with! I hope you like it! I feel like this chapter is very descriptive, but I wanted to set a tone… hope I did justice to all those rituals and all! I didn't check this so sorry for any mistakes, I was so exited!

This fic was inspired by the coolest @stylesispunk's "Soldier in the armour"

You caressed your mare’s coat with delicacy, Marcus has gifted her to you tamed already, so you rode her constantly. He had said it came from his own stables up North where he had a villa.

One of the few things he had said to you.

You did not understand, he was supposed to want to marry you, then why after the betrothal he never even spoke to you again?

He found you with Lucius in the garden, but it haden’t mean anything, you were steps apart, it was nothing, just a few parting words to the one you had wanted to marry. 

He led you back to the celebration that night, and he had remained at your side until he left you and your mother in your villa, and then he retired for his.

You never saw him again

It’s been three months. 

Your mother had explained that he left to take care of some things, you knew that winter was coming and as General and as owner of villas and country he needed to care for his estates, especially since he was to be wed. 

But the temperatures were lowering and your doubts were ever higher.

Was he angry at you? That he found you alone with a man? Was he doubting his decision?

Have you done something wrong?

“Amica mea”, called your mother, you turned, letting a soldier take your horse back to the stables. “Did you have a pleasant ride?”, wasn't a long one, as you had not much space to go, especially alone…

“It was mother”, you said softly, you both entered back to the villa

You removed the shawl you had placed around you, it was getting cold, you had to put on wool socks now, and closed shoes, and a thicker tunic under your stola.

You were entering winter, it had been three months since your betrothal. 

Every day you grow more anxious.

Your mother assured you that everything was alright, and you still kept your ring in your finger 

“Actually, Marcus has returned to Rome”, she said softly, “he is to remain here until after you are married, and until the Emperors decide on who they are going to appoint as consuls”, she said softly, your wedding, as the appointment of the consuls were to happen in the first weeks into Ianuarii 

You didn’t know where he went, you knew he wasn’t on campaign, so he must have been in his villa in the country, but it didn’t matter to you.

“Mother, did I do something wrong?”, you asked her for the tenth time, “for him not wanting to see me?”, you asked her then

“Darling I swear you did nothing wrong”, she assured you, “he had business to take care of”, you were not convinced, not really, and she could sense that, “there’s more, he is coming at sundown, he just arrived back to Rome and he wanted to see you”, she said excitedly

“Really?”, you asked her, hope returning to your features

“Yes, my dear”, she said, smiling softly. “so go get ready”, with a smile, you did as she requested, putting on your most beautiful stola. Your mood had lifted completely at the news. 

At the prospect of him wanting to see you, made your stomach filled with butterflies, and you found yourself excited. 

If Marcus was the man you had to marry, you were going to make the best of it, you were determined to be a good wife to him, and make him proud, and do your marital duties. 

And soon he was there, entering your home with a soft smile on his lips, and those kind eyes you discovered you liked so much. 

From the first time he had come to your home to now, there was a whole sea of difference. He seemed relaxed, his eyes were shiny and his smile sincere, or at least, it looked like it.

He brought you an amphora filled with delicious wine.

Your mother, after eating with you in the triclinium, excused herself and left you both alone with a knowing smirk on her lips

You were incredibly nervous, but… his gentle demeanor helped you ease a bit

“I wanted you to know”, he started, “that I left to settle some business in my states, it was the harvest and I wanted to oversee it”, he explained softly

“Is your state… big?”, you didn't know how to follow up to what he had told you, he only chuckled

“Not much, but we have many apple trees, and pears, some olives”, you smiled at that, “is a villa in the edge of a lake, it is quite beautiful”

“Sounds incredible”, you said with an excited smile 

“I wanted a place to have solace after my campaigns”, he explained

“Are they going to send you out there again… after we are married?”, you asked him

“I should think so, yes”, he murmured with a soft smile, “there are always revolts and uprisings, we need to oversee our territories, care for our subjects”

“I know they are important, though… I hope they feel brief”, you said with an apologetic smile, he looked at your face and smiled kindly at you, making your cheeks heat in embarrassment. 

You had to admit the subject really interested you, about geography, and culture. Well, also battles as well, the strategies, the ones already fought and how they happened, and you were marrying a General, that is what most excited you, you were going to be able to ask him about his campaigns and about the battles he had fought, you felt so emboldened, you went ahead and ask him… 

“I wanted to ask you, who was the most difficult enemy you ever faced on the battlefield?”, you asked him, he took a sip of his cup of wine and left it on the table in the middle of the Triclinium

“I do not wish to bore you with tales of wars, my lady”, he said softly, and your smile dropped. You should tell him that you wouldn’t be bored, but you didn’t press on it. “How do you find your new mount?”, he asked after an uncomfortable silence, the previous soft atmosphere now destroyed

“Luna is so calm, and sweet”, you said then, “thank you”

“You named her Luna?”, he asked

“She is silvery as the moon”, you explained gently. 

“It’s a beautiful name”, he assured you, “and I’m glad, I made sure she had a good temperament, I would never put you at risk, my lady”, he assured you. And that made your heart beat fast in your chest, and your cheeks heat up

“Thank you”, you say shyly, he smiled at you then. But as he seemed to truly gaze at you, he got serious all of a sudden.

“This might be what you asked the Gods for”, he started, and you felt your cheeks heated, was it really that obvious? although you were trying your best to not show it, “but I promise to keep you safe, and to care for you”

“And I promise to be a dutiful wife”, you said, over excitedly, you must have looked so childish. His face turned serious, and you could swear you saw a glint of sadness in his eyes, but it was probably your imagination. 

He might be rough around the edges a bit, but he was joust, and generous, and caring. You beamed at him again, and for the first time since this whole thing started, you found yourself wanting to marry him.

Your mother didn't show up again, and Marcus left shortly after, and when he was in the threshold, in the Atrium, he grabbed both your hands, leaned in, and kissed you on the edge of your mouth.

You saw you could see stars even if you were inside, and he left you with tingles all over your body and promises that soon you were going to get married, with no setbacks

The day of your marriage ceremony, it was so cold, you only managed to get out of bed because you knew that today you were getting married to Marcus. 

You knew what you had to do, you had been taught all the rituals, all the processions.

As your eyes trailed around your room, that was kissed by the first rays of the morning sun. You started to see small remnants of your life, today, you were going to marry a man and leave your home, to go and live with him.

Today, you were going to leave your girlhood behind.

You raised from your bed and grabbed a little doll that was on a wooden shelf in the corner. You were old enough to have gotten rid of it quite a few years back, but you didn’t have the heart to. It was a little dolly made with articulated wooden limbs and dressed in a tunic. 

You smiled at it, and put it inside a beautifully carved wooden chest, as you did the rest of your personal artifacts that you were not going to take into your new married life.

“To Venus”, you whispered. 

Once you were done, you turned around and found your mother looking at you from the door, with a sad smile on her face.

“My only daughter”, she whispered, her eyes shiny with unshed tears. “You are leaving too”, she said, you smiled at her and hugged her tightly. She caressed your hair and kissed the side of your face, “but this is for your safety”

You found that odd, but it was such a heartfelt moment, you didn’t think more about that. 

“But this is a happy day”, she said, releasing you and smiling through her tears. 

“Yes it is”, you said happily 

“Ah!”, you screamed, “Fatue!”

“I’m sorry Domina”, the maid said apologetically. You knew the sweet maid wasn’t at fault, but… it hurt nonetheless, “just a little more”, she said with a weird smile, as she raised your arm to access the tiny hairs in your armpits. 

“It hurts”, you whined childishly

“I know”, she placed the warm thick substance, she waited a few minutes, and then she pulled, making you whine. It all had to go… 

For your wedding night. 

“We prepared a milk bath”, she said as if that was going to be of any comfort, “to soothe your skin”, you looked at her, frowning, she tended to…

“Au!” ...take you by surprise. 

Once the torture was done, you were led to the indoor bath. As she had said, it was filled with goat milk, and soft and aromatic essences. Your maids fixed your hair up, so it wouldn’t get dipped in the liquid, and then abandoned you, you undressed, dropped your thin tunic into the floor, and slipped in the beautifully tiled space, she was right, it was soothing on your skin. 

MIlk baths were not strange, but rather, a delicacy, only being done in the most special of circumstances, like your wedding day, for example. 

You enjoyed the peace and quiet of the secluded place, as you faintly heard all the servants and maids walking all around, surely preparing for sundown, the ceremony was going to take place in your home, as it was customary. 

In the midst of all the flowers floating in the milk bath, you found a beautiful jasmine, your favorite, you grabbed it, making more ripples in the quiet you had created, you took it to your nose, letting the sweet smell soothe you.

You didn't know where it came from, as it was winter, so you took it as a sign from Juno herself, the goddess of marriage, then, you rubbed it against your neck, you really hoped its sweet smell would cling into your skin for today.

You smiled, you felt dreamy, thinking about what exciting things are to come. 

Time seemed to fly by you, your mind blinded by a soft mist, and before you knew it, your hair was being fixed in six braids, you were looking at yourself in the mirror, a large polished piece of copper. You had been dressed in the softest fabric you had ever felt, thin, sheer too, you could see your most intimate bits, but it wasn't less beautiful, delicate, soft and sewed with gold, and then, they placed a beautiful white tunic above it. All white and sewed with golden as well, it fell loosely to your feet, but it clinged to the just right places in your body. 

Your mother came into your rooms then, and they finished fixing your hair, she brought what looked like a golden rope in her hands.

But you knew what it was.

You believed it was pride you saw in her eyes, as they passed the golden rope around your waist, and then tied it in the traditional way. 

“I’m so proud of you”, she said with a wide smile

“I love you mother”, you said happily, she leaned in and kissed your cheek, and then she hugged you tightly

“You are going to be happy with him, I know you will”, she murmured 

“I really think I can”, you said with a wide smile 

And when you were all ready, with the crimson red veil placed upon your head, you were left alone in your rooms, waiting for the right moment for your entrance. 

You were supposed to be escorted by your handmaidens, but just now you realized that the only friend you had was Cecilia, and right now she was in Sicily with her husband…. so you found yourself alone.

“Do you need anything, domina?”, asked Alba, the lovely maid who had been by your side all day, and for years back

“I’m a bit nervous”, she smiled, she nodded, and brought back a trail with what recognized was a small amphora

“A bit of mulsum”, she said, “that will comfort you”, she said with a soft smile

She was right, the wine did help you relax your nerves, especially when you heard people arriving at your home. Finally everything fell on you, the reality. You were going to marry a man, this very night you were going to leave your home to never return, and you were going to live in a foreign place, you had never been to Marcus’ home, you didn't know where you going to end up this very night, you did know though, you had to consummate the marriage. 

You knew what was going to happen, you were a Roman woman, you were raised in knowledge of pleasure, war, wisdom, passion, love, and many others. Tales of Conquerors driven by mythical love and a passion that conquered empires and transcended thousands of years…

Would that kind be the kind of love you’ll have with Marcus?

You had barely a cup of wine with honey, it managed to soothe you to a certain point… but you couldn’t have more or it was going to cloud the rest of your senses, so you started fidgeting with your fingers. 

You started to feel uncomfortable, your scalp began to itch under the veil and your tight braids, the cold winter air began blowing through the window, but your hands were sweating and your breathing was becoming rasher.

You went to the window to have some fresh air, but you found that the garden was, well, not blooming, again, it was the middle of the winter. But as the sun was hiding in the horizon, the air got colder by the second. So you took long breaths and then you came back to sit on the bed.

You didn’t even got to before the door opened, and Alba came back 

“It’s time”, she said with an excited smile

You wanted to throw up as you were so nervous. She came and grabbed your hand, and led you out of your rooms. The ceremony had been prepared in the main atrium of your house, the most propitious space for that gathering of people. 

They were all there, they had lit fires all over the space, and everything looked so magical and mythical, even though that was the same atrium you saw everyday 

Your mother received you at the threshold and led you towards the small altar they had set for the occasion. You were so nervous your legs were shaking, but they still held you upright. 

Marcus was standing in front of a woman you could only guess was the matron of honor, right behind the altar

The ceremony was led by a woman you didn't recognize, but the Protuba, the matron of honor, was supposed to be a woman who had been married once, and still was living with her husband, so it couldn’t be your mother as she was a widow.

You looked around and found mostly men present in the ceremony, but that wasn’t odd either, there was supposed to be at least ten of them, then you looked at Marcus. He was looking at your mother, you couldn’t quite identify the feeling behind those eyes… it seemed like he was asking for some sort of permission, your mother met his eyes with decision, you looked back at Marcus and he seemed to nod.

And then he turned to you, his eyes fixed. 

“You stand as Venus in front of me”, he said softly, your cheeks heated 

“That would make you Mars then”, you murmured. He smirked 

“Let’s begin”, said the woman loudly, it all got so quiet, you could hear a single straw fall into the marble floor. You took a long breath. She presented a long scroll, the contract to your marriage, the details of which you did not know, it had been made between them both with your mother. 

“We are here free, of your own wills, to join in matrimony”, you both nodded, he was first, to sign the paper, you followed, scribbling your name shakily. Once that was done, you stood right in front of the other again. 

You both looked at the matron, she then looked at you and nodded, so you turned back to Marcus and smiled at him, taking a long breath. 

“Ubi tu Gaius, ego Gaia”, you said shakily, now you understood your friend, the way of the words constricting your throat

“Ubi tu Gaia, ego Gaius”, he said firmly, with a strength and conviction you envied. 

“Now, the concordia”, it wasn’t without cause that the wedding ceremony was often called ‘the joining of hands’, you tried to wipe the sweetness of your hand in your dress but didn’t get to as the Matron grabbed it rather roughly, and Marcus’, and joined them together, his hand was so big, rough though, but warm, so warm, as you yours, you held your breath as his warmth in this winter night made you warm too. 

“With the concordia, you are agreeing that a mutual affection made by the Gods themselves has bonded you”, she said, “Where she is woman, you are man, this is the will of the gods”, then came your least favorite part, the sacrifice to Juno.

They brought forth a big piglet, and you looked away as someone slaughtered it, its cries ringing in your ears. You were brought back to the present when you felt a caress in the back of your hand, you realized it was Marcus’ thumb, caressing it, as he saw your distress.

You smiled at him widely

You took the time to gaze upon your now husband, he looked so handsome, dressed in perfect white, golden laurels sewed into the fabric, his beautiful dark locks combed backwards, and a pleased smile on his face, he looked like he just received laurels back from his campaign. You even saw little wrinkles that were born in the outer edges of his eyes, but that made him look even more handsome if that was even possible, and that nose… 

He turned towards you and found you gawking, he leaned in and kissed your cheek, you believed you were going to faint. 

When he placed his big warm hand on your lower back to meet your guests, -which you completely forgot they existed-, you believed you could swoon, his touch comforting and soothing, he then turned to you and smiled. He seemed to search for something in your eyes, and you hoped you could see the devotion within them.

You married one of the most important generals of Rome, a handsome man and you truly thought you’d be the happiest woman alive.

The feast began right after, and you realised your mother had gone all out, dancers in the pools of the two atriums, more servants than guests walked around offering food and wine. Cheerful music was playing, and all the guests had dispersed and were talking in loud conversations. You believed you could put together an older  empire than Rome if you summed their ages together. 

You had no people of your own, as Lucius and his friends were not here. His father was, and you guessed he didn’t want to see you get married to Marcus. His friends were here though, all men dedicated to war, pretors, some other generals. Some of their wives were about your age, but you didn’t recognize them.

Some even giggled in corners after looking thoroughly at you.

You tried to eat, but your stomach was in knots. You tried to drink, and you managed, water though, not wine, you didn't want to. As Marcus chatted with his fellow man of arms, you as much as clung to your mother’s skirt as she indeed was talking with the wives of men of the Senate. 

Sooner rather than later, a comitive came from what was once your rooms, carrying coffers filled with your belongings, one of them held, you guessed the golden one, carrying what you guessed was your dowry. 

Now you truly clung to your mother, as the time to leave your home for your husband’s had come.

“Don’t be sad my beautiful girl”, she whispered against the top of your head, “you’ll be just fine, and this will always be your home”

“I’m scared mother”, you whispered.

“You will be alright”, she said, “I promise you”, you nodded, surprised to realise you were crying. 

Marcus came to your side, grabbing your hand softly, releasing you from your mother’s arms. He had to struggle, you weren’t embarrassed to admit, but you released her and clung into his arm instead.

You left your home, your villa, and you both led the procession to Marcus’ villa, that you didn’t even know where it was.

This could be a long walk or a short one, you didn’t quite know.

It was already pitch black, being late and winter, but the torches taken by the people who were following you lit the night. 

It was cold, and your clothing was thin, but you held onto the arm of Marcus. He stood deadly silent, and you couldn’t find the words either. 

When you finally arrived at the gates of Marcus’ villa, your feet ached, it was in the very center of Rome, near the curia, it was… big. Your mother had not come, but a group of people you had known your entire life was there, looking expectantly at the both of you.

You gasped as you felt Marcus’ thick arms raise you from the ground, taking you in his arms. 

He left all of them behind with no words spoken and he entered his home with you in his arms, you heard the cheers and lude remarks, and then the gates closed behind you, as you grabbed onto Marcus’ neck. His body was warm against you, cold from the walk. 

He released you at the atrium. 

He directed you towards a table where two copper bains stood, and you know what follows.

Marcus used two small stones that sparked a fire that burned a few twigs and moss. The Other basin had water in it. So Marcus was indeed a traditional man, a religious man even. 

“Touch the water first”, he whispered in your ear, making you tingle, “so you won’t burn”, he suggested, you smiled nervously, and slipped your hand inside the copper basin, then as it was wet, you placed it above the fire. When you felt the sting, you removed it. The small rite was supposed to purify you and your new home, your new family home. 

You then realised you were very much alone with him, for the second time, and now… he was your husband.

The air was thick with expectancy, and your nervousness. 

But he had been so gentle… that gentleness was going to translate into your intimacy as a marriage, right?.

“Well, this is my home”, he said. You looked around and you found it comfortable, and… quite new, if there was such a thing in Rome.

Your home was ancient, as the Palatine hill, some say it was made by Romulus and Remus themselves after they founded Rome.

But Marcus’ was perfect, the pillars white and straight, the tiles unscathed by the passing of time, the pools were clean and with fresh water. Not like the ones at your villa which even had water lilies in them, and your pillars looked more like stone than marble, with wallflowers clinging to them. These walls lacked the paintings that decorated yours.

If you and Marcus weren’t there, there was no other trace of life. 

But it was beautiful nonetheless, and this was your house now too.

“As my wife”, he started, “you can do as you please with this home”, he said, the warmth that decorated his features at the ceremony now were lacking, now he seemed like he was sad. 

“Thank you Marcus, you are so kind”, you offered with a soft smile

“This way”, he said, with a thick arm pointed at a hallway. 

This was it, the root of all nervousness, you were going to consummate the marriage, you were going to… take him… 

 You arrived in his rooms, he entered in front of you, and you played with your fingers nervously. You prayed to Juno a week before, for him to be gentle and kind with you, to hold you with passion and devotion alike. That she blesses you with children. And the thought alone was enough to make you less nervous.

Maybe this was the day you were going to start your family. 

But he didn’t move. 

He rubbed his face with his hands, as he was exasperated, his back was to you, and he stood still, unmoving, hiding himself from you. 

Did you have to do something? 

He finally seemed to come to his senses, as he revealed his face and turned, but still not to you. You looked at yourself, begging the gods for wisdom in this… strange time… you then remembered the golden belt around your waist. 

And it finally dawned on you, maybe he needed a little push

“The husband is supposed to take this off…”, you trailed, playing with the fabric nervously. It was braided beautifully, it was customary to be made of wool, but you, being Lucilla's daughter, and granddaughter to an emperor, they had woven it out of golden silk just for you. 

It was the most beautiful knot of Hercules you had seen, and you were wearing it today on your wedding day, where your husband was supposed to untie it, before he claimed you in the marital bed for the first time. 

“I won’t”, he said simply, looking over his shoulder, to finally turn on his feet to look at you. His right hand grabbed his left wrist in front of him, as he stood still and solemn, and he was standing in front of his superior, or the emperor's themselves, “I will not touch you”, you didn’t seem to understand as you stood there, frozen in front of him

“But you are my husband”, you offered weakly. Of all the scenarios you played in your mind, you never thought this was the way it was going to go. You’d think he was going to be too eager, maybe too rough, too impatient, but never this… unless… “have I done something wrong?”, you asked, your voice broke at the very last word, and it was worse as he seemed to look at you with pity, “did I do something to displease you?”, you asked shakily

“You did nothing wrong”, he said, so simply, but his voice sounded too serious, too cold

“But…”

“It was a long day, we both could use some rest”, he said, his eyes soft at this, as he was begging you. He came to you, cradled your face in his big hands and kissed your forehead, and then he left you alone in the room.

Your heart shattered inside your chest as you sat on the edge of the bed, you grabbed into the fabric tightly. You were seized by an awful feeling that you didn’t even recognize at first, your chest ached, as bitter tears down your cheeks.

“But I did everything right”, you whispered

MASTERLIST

PCN: So the angst begins MUAHAHA

I thought the word "domina" was said by slaves to their "owners" but apparently not... it means "Lady or Mistress" use to call ladies of "status" so yeahhhh

Taglist: @orcasoul @peelieblue @raynetargaryan2 @thereallchristine @sesdeuxyeux

[oopsiedaisydeer]

ᴍᴀʏʙᴇ, ᴍᴀʏʙᴇ ɴᴏᴛ… ᴀ ꜱᴇʀɪᴇꜱ

angst, fluff, social anxiety, one-sided attraction?, unresolved tension, self-doubt, slow burn, texting, fluff, coming-of-age, friends to lovers?

𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙩𝙝𝙧𝙚𝙚: 𝙨𝙘𝙝𝙧ö𝙙𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙚𝙧’𝙨 𝙘𝙧𝙪𝙨𝙝, 𝘧𝘵. 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘨!𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘩𝘺!𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

series masterlist here.

word count - 1.2k

Each moment with Matt unfolded in little fragments, stitched together by the soft glow of your phone screen.

Matt finally responds.

It’s late, hours after you’d sent your last message, when your phone vibrates on your nightstand. You’re already half-asleep, but the soft buzz jolts you awake.

Sorry, got distracted Anyway, yk the essay we have to write?

No explanation. No acknowledgment of the silence. Just a smooth continuation, like he never left you waiting.

You stare at the screen for a moment before replying. 

oh, all good!!  yh what did u need ?

Do u mind reading over this and telling me if it makes sense?

He sends you a screenshot.

You rub the sleep from your eyes, blinking at the bright screen as you open the image. His essay fills the screen, paragraphs stacked neatly, but something about it looks rushed.

do u want my honest opinion or the nice version?

A typing bubble appears instantly.

Honesty is the best policy

You grin, looking at the writing again.

ok tbh it's solid but ur conclusion is kinda weak feels like u just gave up halfway through

Wow. Brutal.

im just saying!! u started strong and then dipped

Matt doesn’t reply right away, and for a second, you worry you were too blunt.

Fair. I did kinda bs the ending

told u

The typing bubble appears, then disappears. You wait, your phone screen illuminating your face in the dark.

Does it at least sound smart?

You smile, curling deeper into your blankets.

ehh. smart-ish

I’ll take that as a compliment. especially from u.

A pause, and your chest warms. Then-

Thanks btw For reading it over

You smile again. It’s such a small thing, but he didn’t have to say it.

ofc :)

You yawn again, exhaustion settling into your bones. You should really sleep.

But before you can put your phone down, another message pops up.

U busy tomorrow?

Your stomach flips.

not rlly, why?

Just wondering

A beat.

I need to sleep. goodnight

You bite your lip, smiling at your screen like an idiot.

night matt

You don’t sleep right away.

You see him at school the next day.

He’s with his friends, laughing at something as he leans against the lockers. Your stomach flutters at the sight of him, like the texts from the past weekend were some secret window into a version of him that only you got to see.

For a second, you think he might look over, maybe even acknowledge you. But he doesn’t. His gaze sweeps the hallway, passing right over you without stopping.

You remind yourself that it’s fine. He has his friends. It’s not like you expected anything.

If u had to pick between never reading again or never watching a movie again, which one would you choose?

The question came out of nowhere, right as you were finishing up your homework. You blink at the message before a small smile creeps onto your face.

that's evil!!!! why would u make me choose?

Coz it's important Life-changing, even

You stare at your screen, biting your lip. Books had always been a comfort, but movies... movies made you feel things in a way nothing else did.

i hate u for this, but i think i'd pick movies

TRAITOR.

You laugh, warmth bubbling in your chest.

At school, you walk into one of the classes you happens to share with him. 

You consider sitting beside him, or maybe just near him. But no, that doesn’t feel right. You consider maybe just saying something, just a quick "hey," but Matt doesn’t look up, doesn’t even glance in your direction.

Maybe he doesn’t see you. Maybe he’s just caught up in his own world.

Still, a tiny part of you deflates.

The texts continue.

Not constantly, but enough. Small exchanges after each school day, little inside jokes, assignments, shared thoughts about books, movies, random things that make you think of him.

why is it that every time I think I have things figured out, I realise i'm just guessing?

Is this about the math homework or do u just overthink everything?

stfu matt

Some days, it’s just a text or two. Other days, the conversation stretches late into the evening, messages sent in bursts between homework and distractions. And even though he never says much at school, this part, this hidden part, feels real.

The first time you call.

It starts as a joke. You text, teasing him:

u need me to explain this to you? i thought you were the expert

He replies:

Excuse me. You just dont get it

wow, ok! mansplainer unlocked.

U know what? Call me rn I’ll prove it

You hesitate. Your fingers hover over the screen. Then, before you can second-guess it, you press the button.

The phone rings once. Twice. Then—

"Wow. You actually called."

His voice is softer than you expected, warm with amusement. You roll your eyes, even though he can’t see you. "You told me to."

"I didn’t think you’d actually do it."

You’re smiling now, your nerves fading. The conversation unfolds slowly at first. Then it's natural, playful, easy. It lasts only a few minutes, but by the time you hang up, your heart is racing for reasons you don’t want to name.

Late at night, when you're already curled up under your blankets, your phone buzzes again.

Can I call you? Got something to rant about.

Your heart leaps. He wanted to call? Again?

You hesitate only for a second before typing back,.

sure!

Moments later, his voice filled your ears, soft and a little scratchy.

"I swear my physics teacher has it out for me. I turned in my homework early, and he still said I was missing something."

You smile, adjusting your pillow. "Sounds like a personal vendetta. What did you do to him?"

"Existed."

You giggle in response, the sound unfamiliar even to yourself.

They ended up talking for an hour, about school, music, the book he promised to lend you but still hadn’t. You barely notice the time passing until your eyelids grew heavy. But even as your body begged for rest, you didn’t want to end the call. Not yet. It was ridiculous. He was just ranting about physics, and yet, something about his voice in the quiet of your room made you feel lighter.

"I should probably sleep," you murmur, voice thick with drowsiness.

"Yeah," he said, but neither of them hung up. The silence stretched, comfortable.

You wonder if he could hear you breathing. If he was waiting for you to say something else, or if he was just as unwilling to let go.

Somehow he finds something else to yap about, even as your eyes drifted shut.

When you wake up, the call is over, but he's texted you.

Goodnight ? Sorry lol i didn't want to be creepy and listen to u breathe so i hung up Hope u sleep well

You ever think about how weird it is that we weren’t really friends before?

You read his message over three times before replying.

yeah, sometimes why?

I dunno. Just feel like we should’ve been.

Something about that message stuck with you for the rest of the day, an ache in your chest that wasn’t unpleasant.

You had been happier lately. And you knew why. You just weren't sure if you were allowed to admit it to yourself yet.

thank u rose for the dividers!!! @bernardsbendystraws

a/n: ahhhhh making these texts will be the bane of my existence.

taglist: @backwardshatnick @sturnslutz @applecidersturniolo @kier-with-a-k @evansturn @bluestriips @55sturn @snoopychris @y3sterdaysproblem @cowboylikenat @throatgoat4u @mattswifeyy @marysongohmy @idefinitelyhateu @sweetshuga @st7rnioioss comment to be added/removed from this series taglist !

till next time <3

[daichiduskdrop]

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚⋆·˚ ༘ *𝙎𝙣𝙤𝙬 𝙖𝙣𝙜𝙚𝙡 ⋆·˚ ༘ *ੈ✩‧₊˚

• Chapter 41

Pairing: BTS Ot7 X fem! reader

Genre: A/B/O AU, Fluff, Angst, Strangers to lovers

Warnings: none !

Words: 3382

A/N: Thank you for all of your sweet messages. Everything is okay, I'm just more tired than usual. But I'll try and update soon again (sooner than almost two years that is sorry). Be kind to yourself, 🩷❄️🪽

Taglist: @thelilbutifulthings @ilovemoneymorethenmen @singukieee @cherrysainttt @felicityroth @mageprincess7 @lucis-noctiana @danielle143 @osakis-gf @girl-nahh @vintageoldfashionstyle-blog @neverthefirstchoice @juju-227592 @silentreadersthings @i-have-no-life-charlie @everyonehatesshani @iamkookiesforyou @dragonsflare @fangirl125reader @roseidol @frieschan @popcatx0 @liz67900 @exfolitae @plexcaffeinate @strawblueberrys @massivelyfullenthusiast @iimichie @bts-0t-7 @hannahdinse8 @hannahdinse8

(open)

Previous:

⋆·˚ ༘ *ੈ✩‧₊˚˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚˚ ✩‧₊˚⋆·˚ ༘ *

The drive was smooth, having Yoongi as the driver, the said man paying close attention in the traffic. Seoul was always busy, it seemed, and so the minivan took its sweet time going through the many roads.

As soon as they left the main city, driving through a more secluded area of snowy nature, your attention was no longer on the movie you tried to watch. Jungkook especially enjoyed it, it seemed, as the young alpha giggled and would tell you about fun facts connected to it. The one that sparked your attention the most was when he told you a small story about one of the actresses in the Hollywood film—she used to be a professional in kickboxing, yet after a big injury, she took on a completely different job as she became a successful stuntwoman and actress.

The soft music played throughout the speakers in the car as the packalpha fidgeted with a few of the controls on the touchscreen, finally settling for one of the omega-centred radio stations after the second oldest grumbled and threatened about falling asleep at the last one Namjoon chose.

The pack was calm, occasional chatter ringing through the large car. Jimin, the alpha sitting just in front of you in the middle of the row before yours, turned to you suddenly, a soft look in his eyes as he took in your form—soft cheeks barely visible in the puffer jacket, your fingers hidden behind the sleeves...you looked comfortable, just as any omega should.

„Princess, tonight some of us are doing a VLive; is that okay? Alpha wants to spend time with you, but he must talk to the Armies too.” The young man whispered, his arm reaching over the seat as his knuckles brushed against your blushy skin.

„You can still stay with the other alphas, cub; don't worry!” The eldest alpha was quick to reassure you, noting your unsure gaze. „And it won't be for too long anyway, hm? Just before we go to bed, okay princess…?” The alpha whispered, not only trying to reassure you but also himself.

You nodded softly, having the man sigh out gently. He wasn't too sure if you'd throw a fuss over him and probably one or two others taking longer to finally settle into (hopefully) another cute nest you'd make for them. Jimin wanted to spend time with his fans; he loved every second of doing so, but now that you'd entered their lives like a snowstorm, they were mostly concerned with you and your well-being.

As you looked out of the window, you gasped softly, having a few of the alphas look and swiftly turn around to look at you, as if there should be any danger—only to be met with your big, star-struck eyes looking out of the window as you almost fully leaned over Hobi's lap to see better.

The huge mountain range just before you rippled through the cold winter air, the snow covering the nature as it just came into view after the car drew up the high hill—it looked beautiful.

You never had much time at all to go skiing or even into winter resorts like the one you were all going to now, but you were excited. „It's pretty huge, isn't it, peaches?” The alpha before you whispered softly, his fond eyes stuck to your adorable expression, his heart aching—he just wanted you to stay this happy forever.

„Pup, sit up properly... alphas will get worried otherwise.” The pack alpha strictly said, watching you in the rearview mirror, just about to click his tongue again when you finally sat back up, sharing a short gaze with the intimidating man.

You couldn't watch the movie any longer, saying a soft „So-rry Kookie oppa...” after the man tried to get your attention again with it, and you watched out of the window instead.

Just as you started to get a bit antsy with how long the journey seemed to be taking, the older alpha to your right was quick to jump in, both of you giggling as you created a creative and funny-looking photo for an Instagram story of Jin before you, the said alpha asleep as Hobi cleverly leaned forward to snap a weird-angled photo of him before he sat with you, laughing louder and louder at each sticker you placed in the Instagram app.

You didn't post it, though, saving it to his gallery instead as the alpha mumbled, „Jin Hyung would kill us if we'd let Army see this!” making you giggle softly and nod along.

And before you knew it, the car was already slowing down, as Yoongi drove it towards the parking lot where you could already see many of the staff members with all sorts of equipment—cameras, different clothes on many racks, makeup stations, and all sorts of other things.

„Okay... Let's see about this...“ the second eldest mumbled to himself as he drove near the lifting barrier, letting the window go down to talk to the staff member and one of the security members Hybe had hired. It took only a second before they were allowed an entry, though, so the pack was quick to park.

With the youngest helping you out, you held his hand tightly as you all stepped amongst the snowy nature surrounding you. You felt slight worry cloud the back of your mind at the number of foreign scents around, and your other hand reached out to grasp the alpha's clothed shoulder, the man quick to look down from listening in to a nearby conversation Namjoon was having with another security guard.

„Babybun? What's wrong? Alpha is right here, hm?” He said softly, his hands running up and down your sides in comfort. You didn't respond, letting only a soft crease between your brows set at the slight unease of everything.

„Babycheeks? Here, look what I have taken for you, baby angel...” The other alpha was quick to flank you both as you unsurely looked around at the big number of people. With Taehyung taking your soft hands in his, he crouched before you, a big boxy grin on. He had just the thing that would surely make you feel better.

Just then you noticed one of the comfort companions they had gotten you a while back, the soft plush black lamb the alphas were so careful to scent for you. At your soft whimper, the alpha was quick to hand it over, your hand grasping it to yourself as you breathed in the pack's comforting scent. Leaning your head on the older alpha's shoulder, you watched as more and more staff approached all of you, leading the alphas towards one of the makeshift tents.

„Come on, kitty, let's go now. You can stay with alpha, hm?” You nodded at the man who came back from one of the stylists trying to usher him along, taking your hand in his as Jungkook combed his hands through your hair, his scent lingering as he left a small peck on your temple.

The snow underneath crunched comfortingly as you tucked the lamb into your pocket along with your hands, holding it tight in your fingers so it wouldn't slip out. Somehow you felt shy with all of the unknown people around; should they see your comfort companion... Or were you protective over it? You couldn't tell.

„Here, this is for the young miss...” An older man said as he rushed past the pack alpha, who walked only a few steps before you and Yoongi, handing the man a black lanyard with a card hanging from it, similar to the one he wore.

The pack alpha thanked her, bowing softly as he turned to you, smiling with his dimples showing. „Here, little pup, wear this so the alphas don't have to worry, hm?” You breathed softly as Namjoon placed the item around your neck, carefully pulling your hair out from being trapped underneath the tag as he smiled at you comfortingly.

You took a look at the plastic card, noticing the simple BTS logo on a black background. Flipping it over, you read the tag: VIP; Member of close family/friends; All entries permitted;

„Don't lose it, 'kay, kitten? And keep it on for today, little kit.” The man from next to you mumbled as he adjusted the fluffy earmuffs, as he allowed his chin to rub against your head a few times, scenting you.

The pack alpha rubbed at your back as you looked at the snow below you whenever any staff member would pass by, too afraid of making eye contact.

The older alpha laced your fingers with his as you all made your way to the large tent set up by the Hybe staff, one of whom very kindly opened it for you all.

As you entered the bustling place, you were immediately met with warmth caused by the propped-up portable heaters all around the makeshift room. Even as many people hurried around it, you noticed that their smells weren't as overbearing as they were outside, since here it was just the staff, which was always required to wear scent blockers, and the air had been purified since the early morning. The lot, on the other hand, has usually been visited by many people, which, of course, weren't required to be scentless as they went to ski, and even if the resort has been closed off for today due to the photoshoot, all the mingling scents just lingered.

The first alpha you noticed as you carefully and warily looked up around the place, still worried about making eye contact with any strangers, was Jimin. The man was standing by a seemingly different section in the large tent as he waited patiently for three of the stylists around him to hand him over all of the clothes he would be wearing for the photoshoot.

At your scent, he looked up, your soft strawberries just then around, having the alpha smilinh widely, his eyes adorably almost disappearing. Before you could hurry to greet him, the older alpha holding onto you tightly stopped you as he crouched down before you.

„Kitten? Please listen to Alpha now, for only a little while, baby, okay? ...good. Kitty, you must always stay by one of your alphas now, okay? You're safe here, but I don't want you to be all on your own. Be a good girl now and always stay close.”

You nodded, whispering a soft, „I wi-ll oppa...” as he rubbed his thumbs over your knuckles, holding your smaller hands in his. Standing up and sighing at the cracks of his knee joints, Yoongi leaned closer, his chin tucking your face underneath his as he let his scent turn into calm pheromones.

„Yoongi-ssi, please come to change your attire for the photoshoot!” he heard one of the staff members call out as he nodded along, acknowledging them. Before he left you, he made sure to take you to some other pack member, mumbling about you being careful not to trip on any of the wires and such on the floors as he pulled you along towards the alpha closest, already sitting by a set-up makeup station where two stylists paid attention to his good looks.

„Cub? Come spend some time with alpha, hm?” Jin smiled at you, holding your hand as Yoongi mumbled a soft, „I'll just be behind that curtain if you need anything, kitty; you just call. Alpha is always around.” Then he left, taken along by an older smiling woman who handed him the warm winter clothes.

You nodded softly, letting the eldest gently guide you between his knees as he gently pulled you to sit just at the edge of them. At your soft whine of worry that you will be in the way of the quickly working makeup artists, the young girl softly giggled and whispered, „It's okay, I can work around you well,” settling your worries.

She seemed like a kind lady, her hair pulled back into a sleek ponytail, her dark eyes focused as she applied some makeup product to the back of her hand, warming it up with a dense sponge before she gently angled your alpha's face to apply it.

Jin wore a different outfit than he did when he left the house with you all after the early swimming break. Now he was clothed as if he was about to scale the tallest mountain in the world and still look like a model whilst doing so.

The oldest pack member wore a very soft, cashmere sky blue sweater with cream white corduroy trousers. The same shade was the crinkly puffer he wore to go with it, and his snow boots were a combination of cream and brown. To top it all off, the man had been handed another soft scarf with occasional brown stripes.

He smiled gently as you admired his nice looks, untying his scarf quickly to drape it around you, giggling loudly as he wrapped your face tight so that only your nose and eyes were visible. Quick to snap a photo of you, the alpha called to the other pack member, who just sat down at another makeup station after changing as well, laughing. „Look at cub Hobi-ah, it's like the Tutanchamon has crawled from his tomb!” Turning to watch you both, the man clapped loudly as he also smiled and giggled, while you whined, shrugging the tightly laced garment off.

Jin let his hands wrap around your waist, watching you fondly as his scarf laid around your neck normally, your chin hidden within the fabric. You smiled as you noticed the bracelet you'd made for him, a combination of silver and pink with a few cute charms on his wrist. There was a little microphone, a star, a tiny llama, and a small flower. The alpha had thanked you profusely earlier in the morning, telling you that you were 'the clever-est little omega he had yet to meet and that he would wear it forever.'

You watched as the hairstylist curled his dark brown hair to part in the middle, hairspray applied occasionally but never in your direction so it wouldn't bother you. The pretty lady who did his makeup was applying eyeshadow with a brush, blending one of the colours from a different palette to another in a practiced ease. As she set the eyeshadows down, you inched closer to touch the product yourself but didn't dare to make the move, feeling too shy.

Just then you noticed another two of the pack members taking a seat, as Jimin and Taehyung appeared from behind the curtains chatting about something in a comfortable mood. Beckoning you over, the younger was quick to spread his arms out in an awaited hug after he met your soft gaze.

Quick to say, „I'm going to oppa now...!” as Jin opened his eyes in alert from resting against the headrest, feeling comfortable with you in his arms, but suddenly moving, the older let you climb off as he hastily said, "Careful, you eager beaver!” his brows furrowing a little as you stumbled. But Hoseok was quick to catch you, his hand holding yours to help you gain your balance. He tutted at you softly, but you were already in Taehyung's embrace before he could get too far with it.

The alpha picked you up, holding you to his chest as he raked his fingers through your hair, sitting down along with you, settling you on one of his knees with your legs dangling between his own. He wore a comfortable outfit just like Jin, yet he had subtle changes—his white jacket was much longer, going over to his knees, and he wore baggy joggers instead. And as his hairstylist asked him to kindly take off his woollen bucket hat, the alpha was quick to comply and pluck it right onto your head, adjusting your earmuffs.

You just held onto his palm tighter, slowly adjusting to all of the scents and people you didn't know around you. You felt comfortable and safe with the alphas all around you—Jin, Jimin, Taehyung, and Hobi, along with now Yoongi as well—were all sitting either to your left or right, getting their makeup done and hair curled and styled.

In the mirror before you, you noticed Namjoon standing next to a different staff member, explaining something to him hastily, but he also wore the white-toned winter outfit they all seemed to be sporting for the photoshoot.

And Jungkook's smell was noted as being just behind one of the curtains as well, where the alpha was just changing. He was careful and considerate, his scent more calming (quite frankly, just like all of the pack members around you); the youngest worried about you dropping on them. But you were doing well today; the staff members were either not talking to you or greeting you with small bows you hastily returned.

Taehyung's makeup stylist, an older woman, worked quickly and well; his base makeup was already applied in less than a few minutes. She smiled at you kindly, not making a scene when you sat so close to the alpha. Holding the comfort companion close to yourself, you breathed in the pack's scents, finding comfort in them when you knew you couldn't lean to the alpha's scent gland, too worried you'd be in the way and get screamed at—even when you knew that wouldn't happen.

When the younger man handed you his phone to play on, you thanked him softly. All his games were boring, though, and so after you asked for his permission to download a different one, the alpha lent you his thumb to go through the touch ID needed for the App Store. Soon after, you were playing a cute baking game, with Tae choosing whichever treat you should make next when you couldn't decide: „Oh, the cake looks so adorable, babycheeks! How about you try that next time?”

After a while, the first few were ready to have their photos taken, Jin coming closer to you as he crouched down by your feet, smiling at you: „Shall we go take some photos now, cub? See the pretty view, baby peaches?” as he rubbed his knuckles over your cheeks. You nodded, letting the younger man help you slide off his lap after you gave him his phone back. You could keep the little hat for now, he thought. At least you'd be nice and warm.

Taking your hand in his, you held onto the eldest as he led you out of the warm tent, the cold air hitting you both as you walked out. Bright sun shone onto the sparkling whites around you as you allowed the alpha to tie his scarf around you even tighter, tucking it so none of your neck would be exposed.

„There, all warm now peaches. Let's go up, hm? Other alphas will come by soon; don't worry.” he said comfortingly as you begrudgingly took a step along with him.

The air was once again filled with all kinds of different scents, making you stick close to the man, his arm softly rubbing circles on your back to calm you. You both followed the many staff members going up from the parking lot to the end of the nearest ski trail, next to the ski lifts. They all carried a camera, a light, or something else, and Jin led you carefully over their already walked-through path.

You climbed a few meters upward the ski slope, and as you both turned to look onto the pretty view below, you felt at peace. The wind blew softly, carrying the overwhelming scents away, calming you slightly. The nature below was stunning, pure, and fresh. Looking towards the tents again, you could hear Jimin giggle and laugh from over here, as the said man rushed towards you both.

With the eldest alpha's scent surrounding you, you laughed yourself as one of the youngest came bounding to you both, his arms wrapping around you as he spun in the snowy nature, your face safely tucked by his neck. Before you could get too dizzy, he stopped, though, carefully setting you down above him, so should you fall, he would be there to catch you.

Hugging you close, he whispered gently: „Alpha loves you, sweetheart; never forget that.” giggling softly, letting his nose caress yours in a soft bunny-kiss after he noted the cute blush warming your cheeks.

⋆·˚ ༘ *ੈ✩‧₊˚˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚˚ ✩‧₊˚⋆·˚ ༘ *

Next:

[uki01]

Can you do friends to lovers headcanons for Movie! Shadow and Silver the Hedgehog! Reader?

”Just stay a little longer, won’t you?”

Movie! Shadow The Hedgehog and Silver The Hedgehog x Reader (Separately).

Author’s Note: Thanks for this request!

Warning: Mentioned of Death in Shadow’s part, Small Angst, don’t worry there’s fluff and comfort.

Movie! Shadow The Hedgehog

You were a very close friend of Sonic, Tails, Knuckles, Tom and Maddie cause of Wade Whipple.

You even became a family member to them (In Sonic, Tails and Knuckles eyes at least). Maddie and Tom enjoyed you as well.

So after a few months after the whole saving the world from being destroyed, you met The Ultimate Lifeform himself, Shadow through Sonic ever since he was introduced to the Wachowski family.

At first he kept his distance and you respected his boundaries, though you did try to do small talk which Shadow lets you but never really talked back unless necessary.

But he then started talking you as well, having a full on conversation about whatever came to mind.

After that, you two become really good friends, close ones, it was pretty hard since he was a loner preferred that way but it was so worth it.

You learn about his past, of how his best friend and older sister figure, Maria died from an explosion 50 years ago. You felt so terrible for him and can understand why he went out of his way to do this.

He then asked you this.

”Y/N… do you think I’m… bad?”

You looked confused and asked him.

“What made him say that?”

”I almost got this planet terminated, I was so blinded by rage that I didn’t see the gentler and softer side of this planet, I could’ve gotten everyone killed, everyone including… you… aren’t you mad at me for almost doing a foolish thing?…”

You put some thought into it then responded with this, this what made Shadow fallen for you.

”You aren’t bad Shadow, you were just very upset for someone you loved dearly that had an unfortunate death, sure blowing up the planet was insane but.. you had your own reason, everyone has a reason to do such outrageous lengths just for their loved ones, everyone would do anything to avenge their loved ones or bring them justice. That’s what I really like about you Shadow, you would do anything to protect someone you love, everyone including me loves that in someone.”

And that’s what made Shadow fall for you.

After that night, for a good few weeks Shadow has fallen for you, but he didn’t know since he has never felt romantic feelings before so this frustrated him quite a lot.

Maddie and Sonic catches on and asks Shadow what’s wrong, Shadow tells them what’s going on and Maddie is excited and Sonic is already teasing him.

”Awww! You have a crush on Y/N that’s so cute Shadow!”

”Wow Shadow! Never took you for someone to fall for somebody but hey! Life is a surprise!”

And of course, Shadow is confused by this.

”Crush? What do you mean? I don’t want to crush Y/N I would kill them, I would never do such a thing.”

”No no Shadow! It means you have romantic feelings towards her, like you know your best friend slash older sister? It’s like that! Love but different type! You want to be a thing with her like a partner that wants to be romantically involved with her! You know what I mean?”

”I see…”

Shadow took some thought into this and then asked Maddie how does he ask you to be his girlfriend/boyfriend which made Maddie even more excited and Sonic teasing even more, he got punched by Shadow after that.

After a few months, Shadow asked you to meet on top of a hill at exactly around 4pm, which you agreed to, left you excited and confused.

Once the time hits, you immediately make your way to where Shadow said to meet. Once you made it to your location, you see Shadow with a basket, mat, drinks and candles, it was a picnic!

This made your heart do flips and smiled at the sight.

”Aww Shadow was this all for me?”

”Mhm, come, sit down, don’t want for the food to get cold.”

You giggled and made your way, you two started eating what Shadow made (from Maddie’s help), talked for a bit, even have your moments of laughter then watched the stars.

You looked over to Shadow who was fixated on the stars, then looked back up, decided to strike a conversation.

”Woah, these stars look pretty tonight, what do you think Shadow?”

”I agree, they look beautiful as ever.”

”They do.”

”Not as beautiful as you though.”

That caught you off guard as you stopped to look at him, he looks back with his stoic but soft expression.

This made your face blush a bit but giggled anyways.

”Gee, what’s gotten into your mind today?”

”You Y/N.”

”Wait, what?”

He fully turned his body towards you then sighed, getting ready for what he has to say

“Ever since Maria had… died, I thought the only way to bring justice was to destroy this planet, turns out I was wrong, there’s a lot of beautiful things on his planet that I didn’t even notice myself, you, Y/N showed me that, still treated me like how Maria did, not some… freak… you made me change my perspective on myself after our conversation one night, you’ve done a lot for me Y/N, so I want to do the same for you.”

Your face turns red, but still listened in, your heart warmed up and your soul fully touched by generous words.

”Y/N, do you want to be my boyfriend/girlfriend?”

He hands you your favourite bouquet of flowers.

Your face dropped when he asked this, this worried Shadow, thinking you were going to reject him. “Are you kidding?…”

His face slightly dropped and so did his ears, this is it, you were going to—

“YES!”

You shouted out loud with happiness, Shadow’s expression lightened up a little as he hugs you close and so did you, kissing his forehead which made him shudder a bit.

”You have no idea how happy I am my love…”

”I can only imagine honey… I love you Shadow…”

”I love you with all my heart and till the end of time, Y/N..”

And just like that, you two become a couple, Maddie was happy and squealing with joy, Sonic was teasing you and Shadow but was happy for both of you, Tails excited and congratulated you two, Knuckles was proud of Shadow for his bravery and honour, he was certainly happy for you two and Tom was proud of Shadow and applauded for you two.

You two become the most cutest couple in Green Hills, you wouldn’t changed it for the world for this happy and special moment, it was the same for Shadow, even if he didn’t show that much excitement, he was extremely happy to have you as his partner.

Silver The Hedgehog

You met Silver through Sonic when Silver was stopping by from the future.

You were pretty intrigued so you strike up a conversation with him and it was pretty awkward right off the bat since Silver lacked socials skills.

But he did talk, just awkwardly and you reassured him to take his time and as time went on you two were talking like a boat going down a stream, peacefully.

The two of you started talking more often now, with Silver always visiting you from the future, practically becoming close friends.

He explained about his future and how it’s ruined, and the process of meeting Sonic. You felt bad for the guy.

”I just… wish I was useful more before it all went terrible, why did it have to happen to my future! And I went and almost killed the wrong guy and trusted a lunatic! This was all my fault… Am I?… a terrible person?…”

You listened intently to his venting, then said this after he asked if he was a bad person (spoiler: he wasn’t), that changed you and Silver’s relationship.

”You aren’t a terrible person Silver, you were doing thought was right, to save your future, you deserve and good life Silver… a better life, an easy life, good guys like you shouldn’t be going through such tragedy, but on the brighter side, you met your friends, Sonic, Tails, Knuckles, Amy, Cream, Cheese, Blaze, Rouge, Shadow… I think? Anyway! Regardless, even if bad things happen there’s always good things too, I believe in you Silver.”

And that’s what hit Silver, that moment right there, what made him fallen for you.

After that, these past few months have been stressful for Silver, but for a different reason, that reason was you.

That conversation you and Silver had, made that stutter even more when he’s around you.

Blaze noticed this right at the beginning of his crush on you, she asked Silver what’s wrong, which he respond sheepishly.

”I have this… crush on Y/N, after that conversation me and them had, my heart just did flips, but I don’t know if they likes me back.. what if they don’t like me back, what if I confessed they would feel weirded out, angry at me, confused at me or even pitying me and our friendship will never be the same! What if-“

”Silver calm yourself, I know Y/N for long enough as I’ve been here with them, they are the most nicest, considerate, confident and outgoing person ever, they would never say it like that or feel that, the worst they can say is no, and if they do you must accept that but… I think they feel the same way, they do go out of their way to make sure your comfortable and settled in properly whenever you come to visit after all.”

”Your… your right Blaze, I’m sorry for that…”

”No need to apologise Silver.”

”But, what can I do to win their heart?”

”Give them gifts, something they like, just be yourself, they like honesty, and frankly you are the first person they would be around anyways, shouldn’t be too hard considering you two are close.”

”Okay, thanks Blaze..”

”Anytime Silver.”

After that pep talk from Blaze and few months passing by, Silver asked you to meet up where the two first met each other which you agreed too immediately, that got his muzzle blushing red.

Soon as you two met up, you just had a look around, remembering of how you two met, then Silver for the first time, starts the conversation.

”Do you remember the first time we met?”

”How could I forget, for guy that has terrifying powers, you sure stutter a lot, not that it’s bad it’s cute actually heheh.”

Silver’s face blushes from embarrassment and love too, he clears his throat.

”Yeah, just like you said, life sure has its surprises.”

”Mhm, but I gotta ask, why did you bring me here?”

”To… give you this.”

He pulls out a gift for you, which you happily accept and open the gift, to see a bracelet that had your name on it and your favourite colours.

”Oh, Silver…”

”I had some help from Amy, Cream & Cheese when making them, I hope you like it.”

”Like it? I love it!”

That made Silver smile, your smile. As you put it on you wore it proudly, which made Silver’s heart beat twice as faster than it was before.

He took a deep breath and looked at you in the eyes.

”Y/N, you are one of the most important people in my life, ever since I’ve met you, you’ve made me feel like I belonged here, always making sure I was comfortable, safe, healthy and happy, but what made me happier was you. You just being there, even if you weren’t doing anything, you just being there with me made me feel so happier and loved, you’ve done so much for me, now I want to do the same for you.”

He hands you a bouquet of flowers, your favourite ones too.

”Y/N, do you want to be my partner?”

You were shocked at this, he didn’t even stutter, fiddled his fingers, none of that, however Silver thinks your probably judging right now.

”Are you serious?…”

Oh no, he knew it was happening, you are going to-

“OF COURSE I WILL!”

Those four words just made Silver’s day, he swooped you up in his arms as you held the bouquet happily laughing together while hugging.

”Gotta say Silver, I am impressed at what you said, you didn’t stutter a single word.”

”Well, I wanted this to be perfect, so I practiced, just for you.”

”Awww, Silver, you just being here is already perfect enough for me.”

”Thank you Y/N.”

”Of course, I love you Silver.”

”I love you too, sweetheart.”

And that marks the day you two were a couple.

Blaze, Knuckles and Tails was happy for you both and congratulated you two, Amy and Cream & Cheese were cheering and excited, basically about to burst a bubble, Sonic and Rouge was teasing you two but was genuinely happy for both of you, Shadow didn’t care… but he was genuinely happy that you two found love.

You we’re enjoying every moment with Silver and wouldn’t want to change any of this, so did Silver, he would tear time itself just to see your beautiful face, your pretty eyes, gorgeous smile and everything else apart of you that makes you, you.

Author’s Note: This was so much fun to write! Took me long but it was worth it! Thank you so much for the request!

(This gif will never NOT be funny to me).