#IN FACT ANY ADULT SHE HAS INTERACTED WITH | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

yojeongin · 1 month ago

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this night has opened my eyes | j.jh

→sister’s fiancé!jaehyun x f!reader

genre: smut, angst, close proximity attraction, forbidden affairs, 80s au, and familial relationships study

synopsis: grief hits everyone differently, especially when so close to a major "once in a lifetime" event. you try to not judge everyone's character but how can you not when emotions are conflicting and it doesn't help that your sister's fiancé is the only one helping you cope.

warning(s): ADULTS ONLY, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT! generational trauma, mentions of child emotional neglect, grief, cheating, smoking, alcohol consumption, emotional repression (minor memory loss), some fingering, semi-handjob, unprotected and rough sex, creampie, jaehyun a lil ooc, somewhat one-sided, lack of chemistry (their lonelyness tries to say otherwise), this one is for the eldest daughters with mommy issues

wc: 21.1k+ || anthology masterlist || soundtrack || ao3

disclaimer: this is purely fictional; in no way am I condoning this behavior, trying to offend anyone, nor is it meant to place such image on the idol, these are only characters. read at your own discretion.

an: well I lied about posting last week. I'm fond of lying and worst scenario did happen and I'm posting in may. anyways, tried hard to make them lack chemistry so you guys tell me how that turned out.

This is your punishment. It must be. Why is it that when you’re finally at ease with life, something has to ruin your stable comfort? You swore you wouldn't come back to this town unless a major celebration or an emergency would occur. Unfortunately, it so happens that both had transpired at the same time. In the worst way possible.

A year and a half ago your sister had met someone. It only took nine months of being together for them to get engaged and your entire family knew besides you. Chances are you would have remained in the dark even after the event if the pyramid schemer of your cousin hadn't called you about the possibility of lending her money to pay for the items she was supposed to sell.

Merciless enough and with no regard for your sister, she spilled it all to you along with ridicule laced in each word. Reveling and laughing at the theory of your sister possibly being pregnant. Interlaced jealousy for obtaining a “great catch”.

You don't entertain it, humming with faux excitement despite dreading the fact that you're now expected to send a letter to your sister letting her know how happy you are for her. Whether you truly were or didn't care, did not matter. You expected nothing out of it, nothing was supposed to happen after all, per usual. It was all courtesy.

Silence from your sister was always a better reward than having her talk your ear off about anything she was fairly interested in. The matter becomes worse knowing she dreaded talking to you overall, therefore it was a waste of time for you both.

Unfortunately, days later you received a phone call where she, in fact, talked your ear off about the guy she was engaged to and what she had in mind for her celebration. It’s not like she was having fun telling you about it, she didn’t plan for you to find out to begin with. But again, it was all courtesy. Hoping that this would make you feel included enough to send her a gift without invitation.

The call extended for longer despite the long periods of silence on both ends. She had waited and waited, with no signs of you asking what she wanted, leading her to hang up feigning a dinner with her fiance. Truth is she scoffed rolling her eyes and petulantly stomping around knowing she would have to invite you now if she wanted a gift.

Two months later a wedding invitation was sent to your apartment. Reading over the script typeface with all of its coiled swashes, embossed flowers, and the underlying inked words that scream at you to not go, to not entertain this and just send the damn gift. Courtesy, it's all about courtesy.

You didn’t hear from any of your family members again after receiving that piece of cardstock. Not until a week before the wedding day. Merciless Friday. By Friday, life has killed you.

You had planned on leaving a day before the date. You were in no rush to visit anyone in that town nor did you plan to stay long after the ceremony. Like a business trip, that’s what you were treating it as.

Simply, your plan was to get a round trip ticket. The departing flight back home after the ceremony, possibly at the middle of it, or worst case scenario: the following morning. All to avoid being berated by your mother or aunts; with no plan to overstay your visit.

That was the plan, yet again the universe was so humorous that when you picked up the phone to hear your father talk to you casually with long gaps in between his words, you knew something was awfully wrong. He didn’t specify the reason for his call nor did he give you much information about how his fig tree wasn’t looking too good and most likely would not make it for fig season.

It was quick and brief, that should have been telling. Your mother would have called you selfish for not noticing the small things but those words were customary for her so you didn’t take them to heart. You haven’t in years, you would like to think.

Now you look at those same trees, nodding to yourself about how correct he was. Branches too frail and crackly, snapping with a swipe of a finger. They used to be so strong, even in these winter temperatures with biting and prickling coldness. The one your mother often caused within you and now it’s odd knowing that’s what she must have felt last night.

It’s strange to come back and notice the state of the weather. A town usually disgustingly humid, scaldingly hot, and sunny was now replicating your current city. Gloomy and rainy, the humidity never leaves but the disgust clings to the feeling in your chest as cousins, uncles, and aunts rush out of your childhood home with box sets of silverware, easy and light furniture, and china that had not been locked away.

A cheery smile on their faces, patting you as a welcome while stuffing their rickety cars with your parents’ belongings. You don’t question it, you always expected this from them. The best you can do now, is close the door in their faces when the youngest of your cousins walks out with your father’s broken Atari in his grimy hands.

So young and already so rotten.

It’s not the fact that they are taking the things, it’s more so that none of them bothered to let you know your mother had died Friday morning or looked to be mourning. Or how she had been battling a nasty infection due to the thorns in her rose bushes. How rapidly the fungus had consumed her cells.

The house is eerie and cold; silence was never this stiff. Biting and dull, but never static. The large portraits of your mother scattered around the walls feeling more patronizing than ever before. You can already imagine what she must be thinking about you all the way from purgatory. “Typical, you could not even bother to show before my last breaths.” A scoff, turning up her nose with a shake of her head to avoid looking at you.

Disgust, disgust, disgust.

It doesn’t take long to find your father in their shared bedroom. Sitting idly on the edge of the bed looking out the window. A usual position, now enveloped with grief and despair. Not his ordinary nonchalance and comfort. He was a shell of a man from when you last saw him. Then again, that was two years ago for their silver anniversary where your mother scolded you for not helping or for not doing things the way she wanted them.

You remember clearly ending that night in the train station with your suitcase. Your father dropping you off while affirming that they loved you despite all your mother had spewed the entire visit. You both smiled fondly before hugging and patting each other’s cheeks. He knew you well enough to leave before your train arrived, giving you a breather and letting out all your grievances, leaving them here and not taking them back home.

“Hey…” Your meek voice causes his hand to twitch, not turning to look at you. “How are you holding up?” You question, hand sliding down his shoulder to rub comfortingly. You feel his chest rumble, your fingers thrumming against his wool sweater. “I told you the fig tree was not going to hold on until spring.” He answers slowly, eyeing how the branches snapped with the breeze.

“You did.”

Silence befalls, it’s uncomfortable yet comfortable. The contradiction makes it far more confusing on your end. You’re not too sure how he feels. Perhaps you should say something, something stupid or mundane but something. These days you're far more unaware of what to do or think.

“Hey, dad?” “Hey, dad!”

There’s a clear difference in the way those words are uttered. In the way the voices sound and how they roll off each other’s tongues but ultimately both of you turn towards the door, seeing your sister stand with a cheery smile – a tad duller when her eyes fall on you. The most she gives you besides a hum, unphased by your presence.

“The morgue is on the line.” She utters, chin turning to point towards the phone on your mother’s nightstand. Your father makes no effort to answer, leaving it to both of you to decide. Ultimately, you reach for the device, the cold plastic uncomfortable against your ear.

“Hello?” “With the family of Mrs. Y/l/n?” “Yes…”

Taken aback by your lack of warmth, the mortuary technician hums, “We wanted to inform you that we got results back from the police station and after the autopsy, Mrs. Y/l/n is ready to be transferred to the services you’ve chosen. Since she is an identified body, we can only keep her for a week at best. She does have to be transferred for burial or a different mortuary by the time frame.”

Confused, you turn to your father. His lack of response makes you turn to your sister who looks at you like you’re crazy for whatever you haven’t told them. “What?— I thought you guys handled funeral services as well?” You answer, clutching the hard plastic in your hand.

“Unfortunately, no. Not yet at least, but there are multiple funeral homes around the area that you can contact and we can transfer the body to them for the burial or their own morgue. It just has to be before the week ends. Fortunately, it’s a busy season– Unfortunately, I mean! Sorry… We will need the space.” Catching his mistake he laughs nervously, pulling the last remaining hair strand on his balding head.

“Give me a second.” You grumble, your mother’s lipstick still plastered against the bottom half of the phone. “Have you looked into funeral home services?” You whisper, looking at your standing sister who shakes her head vigorously. There’s no way your father had the will to do so and you don’t ask him but the gnawing feeling of the lack of organization is eating at you already.

With a sigh you pick up the phone from your lap, taking your time to answer. “We don’t yet have a plan… Is there no way we can get more time?” You almost beg, was it not for his disinterested whiny voice while twirling the spiral cord around his finger. “Yeah, no… That’s quite unfortunate, yeah.” He hums, patronizing. It irritates you beyond belief. To the point where you hang up before even giving him a definitive answer.

“A week! That’s all we get to find any funeral services or she’ll get tossed out like a butchery carcass!” You’re not sure if you’re more irritated from the call, your sister’s nonchalance, or the fact that you care more than you allowed yourself on the flight back.

"A week?!" Your sister screeches, "My wedding is a week! We can't possibly do that!" Her hands come to her head, distress covering her face like a wedding being pushed back would be the bigger tragedy out of this. Your slow turn of head and slotting eyes don't phase her but your words do irk her.

"Mom just died and you're more worried about a wedding?...”

"It's not that! It's just that— the wedding is already planned. Mom's funeral isn't, we don't have anything to look for and especially in this short amount of time." She covers up, nodding like it was the best excuse she has ever come with. Was it not for your father's voice catching both of your attention and his slow monotone tone, you would have finally slapped the sense into her that you should've done years ago if allowed.

"Your mother began saving up for this, months ago. I don't think it's much but we will find out when her lawyer arrives tomorrow to read her will." He pauses, "We will make do." He concludes with a nod to himself.

It's not enough for you. That goes to say there's virtually nothing when funerals cost an arm and a leg. You don't even know how much her payment plan was so what gave you the reassurance that you could do anything with that. No, you had to think for the three of you. Like — fucking — usual.

"Aren't you paying for the wedding too?" You turn to him. He nods, "We will make do."

No. No, it's not that simple.

"Your wedding is in a week, there's no reason for you to spend anymore. How about we cut that off already and you can help with the funeral preparations." You speak sternly to your sister. That desperation and anger lacing every single one of your words.

"What?! No, you can't just cut me off! I still have to pay the catering and flower vendors. That doesn't go into action until Tuesday." It's crazy to see how maniac she became in an instant. Her hair disheveled the further her fingers threaded through it. "You can't have me present my guests beautiful decor just to serve their food on paper plates, can you? That's tacky!" She groans, petulantly turning to your father for back up.

"We will make do."

Are you satisfied? No, but you're exhausted and quite honestly jet lagged. This has been enough interacting with your sister and your father's enabling that you decide to throw the towel and shake your head.

"Fine. But you'll have to help me with the funeral services and finding an adequate funeral home."

She's pushed her luck already, and she knows it. "Fine."

It should have been an obvious sign that normal days were left behind when you arrived. What used to be quaint mornings in this town were now loud and obnoxious. Things were different in a sense that you had not expected. The blaring of a nightstand alarm transformed into an irritating screech of the fire alarm calling your name over and over to turn it off. Bike bells from the paperboy calling for the daily paper were now incessant honks tattle-telling on the neighborhood boys that kicked balls at whatever car was left outside the garage.

Whether your body wanted it or not, you pushed off the mattress that was once your safe haven. Now it was hard as rock and the cause of your aching muscles that wept with every step down the stairs. Your mother’s penetrative glare through all those portraits adding onto your pain.

Upon hearing your steps, your father turns with a blank look on his face but an apology in his eyes. You let out a sigh and a reassuring smile on your lips, turning off the stove and moving the pan away. “I burnt the eggs.” He utters monotonously, each word spoken with every step you take towards the fire alarm. “A coward egg. Preferring to burn than to be eaten. It’s okay, the next one will be brave.” You think you can see a smile on his face although blocked by the fabric of your pajamas and sprawled hair.

“Those damn kids, running around the street when cars are leaving for church.” Your sister had interrupted any sense of tranquility (if any) with complaints. Her eyebrows furrowed and a frown on her face that becomes teasing when she sees you on a chair, mangling the fire alarm.

It’s mocking you think, the way she looks at you. “What did you do? You’ve only been here for a few hours.” And your glare gives her the response she was looking for. Receiving you with a teasing scoff, almost turned into a giggle while she swivels towards your dad, kissing his cheek good morning.

“Geez, relax. I was just kidding.” She huffs, “Look who woke up on the wrong side of the bed.” Usually comments as such warranted extensive berating from her and your mother. Your aunts if they were visiting but now it’s just you two and your dad. Your catatonic dad that can only give her the same blank look and words he’s given you: “I burnt the eggs.”

She kisses his head, smiles reassuringly, reaching for the pan to toss out the now cold eggs. “It’s okay, I’ll make you some.” It’s similar enough, you’re sisters after all.

You manage to silence the fire alarm, bringing tranquility for a second before three rhythmic knocks are heard at the front door. Your sister and you share a glance, questioning with an indication for you to open the door. It’s something menial that you won’t fight her over, rather you just do it to let the starch pressed suit wearing lawyer inside the house.

He’s roughly a head taller than you, lankier and awkward but in a way that makes him seem snooty. He gives you a glance and a muted greeting smile. He attempts to share some pleasantries but you don’t let him, leading him to the living room where the other two had gathered already. Eggs and stove long forgotten.

“Good morning,” he utters, “Only you three will join us?” He asks, fingers threading through the cuff links of his suit. They’re rusted, staining his dress shirt with every move. He knows it and hates that others do too but he can’t be bothered to change them. Rather they’re his only ones.

“Yes, morning.” You answer with a nod, sitting besides him. “Right.” He mutters, clearing his throat, fumbling to open his briefcase. “I’ve brought copies for you all and given the quantity, I consider it best we get straight to it, yes?” The lawyer — who you later learned his name was Mr. Chop, called pork chop by your sister whenever he said something she didn’t like — handed you each a thin packet. Swivel designs on each corner, customary of your mother who most likely brought in her own paper for him to print on whenever the time came. She probably did not expect it to be this early.

Your father makes no effort to touch it, your sister only flips through it, but you focus on every word and the tone everything is dictated in. Mr. Chop reads in a lousy voice that he’s forced to sound vigorous but his constant voice cracks give out his experience. Not that much.

“For my dear husband,” He fixes the stiff paper under his fingers. “You will find yourself flooded by life insurances all to your name. Enjoy them while you remain, it is your call what you do when you think your time will come.” Mr. Chop clears his throat, turning to you before continuing. “As long as you’re wise if you dare leave anything to Y/n…”

Typical. It doesn’t make it any less frustrating.

“To my youngest daughter, you’ve always loved the eccentricity of your mother and grandmother. For that, I leave you our jewelry. I know you will do the right thing when it comes to these and you will take good care as I have all these years.”

You could swear your mother’s doting voice projected through his weak mouth. Sweet when looking at your sister but patronizing and mocking when he turned to you. Just the way the old hag intended.

Take that back, pinch yourself under the thigh for thinking of your mother as an old hag. No matter how much she’s impacted you, remorse and guilt will always flood you when it comes to her.

Fuck.

“Lastly, Y/n. Consider yourself lucky for this letter and your grandmother’s cookbook. Lord knows you could benefit from it. I will not offer you more for you know what you’ve done and you shall live with that your entire life.”

The paper doesn’t feel heavy under your fingertips. It’s light, translucent, and from the sunlight peeking through the sliding doors leading to the backyard, you can see she did not write much.

“What about the funeral plan she began? How much is there?”

Mr. Chop knows there’s urgency in your voice. Desperation and frustration etching themselves across your face while he takes his time to flip through some papers he had not yet taken out. “Yes… it seems your mother did not begin this plan until three months ago that leaves with only—“ he hums, holding his tongue to not sigh and give more pity remarks than he’s already given. “$169 to be exact, not discounting taxes depending on the company. Some funeral plans tend to take out taxes when the money is put to use.” He drops his professional act momentarily to look at you.

“These insurances… they can cover it, surely. Yes?” It’s the first time your father spoke since the lawyer arrived. Grievance written all over his face, in the way his eyebrows knit like a begging hungry child. His fingers twitch, itching to look for answers in the packet but hold back. As if touching the decorative paper ought to burn his fingers.

Mr. Chop hums for an exaggerated amount, head tilting to ultimately click his tongue. His pen hits his forehead, leaving a tiny blob of ink that you fixate on. “Well, yes… the thing is that insurances take a month to three after the claim. Unfortunately — for some reason — February is high in mortality and it’s going to take longer than that to hear back from the insurance companies.”

It’s a dead end. A dead end and it seems only your father and you feel the weight of your mother’s body crushing the both. It’s typically you whose hands were freezing cold but now they’re warm against your father’s. Taking them in a tight and reassuring grip, forcing belief into both. He glances at you, apologies flooding his eyes and threatening to escape his lips. Those that you shut with a smile and another squeeze.

“We will make do.” And now you’re fully convinced that he’s smiling. Believing you with no proof or witness, just the fatherly love and remnants of hope he has. He squeezes your hands in return, a sign of compliance.

Mr. Chop doesn’t extend his invite. As soon as it’s settled he makes his exit, leaving the three of you to wonder what should be done. Your father reverted to small talk, managing to nod at some questions and stare blankly at others. That left you and your sister to make calls to funeral homes all day. Alternating between landlines while one of you wrote, analyzed, and organized the price points and deals. All flukes and robberies.

To say frustration wasn’t getting the best of you was an understatement. How is it that death is perceived as an eternal slumber where you feel no more, yet it leaves those behind you in perpetual suffering.

Your father won’t explain what he feels but everyone can read it in the wrinkles around his eyes and mouth. You’re not too sure how you feel besides uncertainty that makes you scribble harshly against the notepad. Eraser shavings get between the lead and paper, forcing large gaps between words. It bothers you enough to rewrite the words just for another piece to be erased. A cycle that you know you should end but the bubbling ache in your chest makes you continue your angry scribbles until you touch the fresh page underneath.

Faith lets it survive for longer. Intervening through an ecstatic screech that leaves your sister. It gives you hope, seeing her stomp around in a happy dance. Telephone cord wrapping around her body the way her fiance will do in a few days to come. She’s so happy. Your mother is dead, your father is bordering on joining her and your sister is happy.

“Found a funeral service?” Your voice breaks her out of it. Her wide smile, not flattering as she turns to look at you with faux confusion. That stupid midline diastema was growing but it made her look far more charming than before. Her giggle doesn’t help and for a second you think she’s that same little girl that would pity you when mother scolded for her wrong doings before she joined in on the mockery.

“What? No!” She unravels the cord, some of it stuck against the buttons of her overalls. “The caterer called back and said they could work with the budget you're forcing me into! I can make this wedding work, Y/n!” If she was to ever touch you it would leave a reminder of her disdain and faux affection. This one, she’s genuinely happy and with no intention to mock you but even when she doesn’t want to, she manages to plague you with that poison your mother created and taught her to inject into you.

She jumps around, holding your hands with no intention to seize her excited giggles. How can someone be so happy in times like these? Is this what being full of love creates?

“You’re fucking kidding, right?” The words leave your mouth in waves. Lips quiver with every letter and your hold on her hands turn crushing. Her eyebrows furrow, pulling away like a child that’s been zapped with prank gum. She scowls at the ruined moment, “Have you seriously been working on your wedding all this time?!”

“No…” A scolded child answers, tucking her hands in the denim pockets. “I was making calls too, I just… took a break to answer the caterer.” she murmurs, swinging her body the way she does when consequences attempt to reach her.

“A break… We can’t take fucking breaks, sissy! We have to find a funeral home now or else who knows where mom will end up!” You don’t try to sound so angry or sad. The whine and fire in your voice will betray you the way it always does. “We can’t afford them if you're too fucking worried about your stupid wedding!”

“Stupid?! Mom was looking forward to it! You would know if you checked in often and didn’t think you’re too good for us! Doesn't your job pay you well? You could possibly pay for this by yourself and leave dad alone.” A leach and a burden is what they’ll always see you as. It’s obvious through the gaps of invisible words she doesn’t spew.

Despite the scratch created over your soul, you’ve only ever known to cover it with electric tape. It’s sticky and temporary, leaves a disgusting residue if you ever try to remove it but that doesn’t come until you’re ready to fix it. Which you won't, you never do. You never will.

“I am going to pay for it at this rate because you are more worried about a wedding with a guy you met not even a year ago and God trust no one believes it will last.” Condescension and it’s not yet Wednesday. It’s spilled in the same tone she utilizes with you, the difference is she’s never been strong enough to reap what she sews.

There’s fire in her eyes. The same fire she looked at your mother the few times she was reprimanded. The kind that tells you she loathes you with her entire soul and wants nothing but the worst for you. It translates perfectly through her words, ones that make you forget she’s the town sweetheart.

“You know what your problem is, Y/n? That I’ve always been able to find someone and you haven’t. You’re lonely. A lonely, bitter spinstress. Bitter overall and that’s how you’ll end if you keep acting like this. Mom was right about you. She always has been.” She gives you no time to rebuttal with your own venom. Taking her belongings and slamming the kitchen door behind her while the words ‘naive’ and ‘dumb-fuck’ flood your brain knowing they’re far less offensive than bitter and lonely.

Without trying to dwell, you exit the kitchen as well. Rolling your eyes with a huff as the scene replays. Your mother is gone, there’s no reason for you to hold your tongue, doing that for years has stunted your ability to defend yourself. Your little sister will always have the upper hand the longer you keep your mother’s image etched inside your brain.

She has no power over you. Not anymore. Free yourself. Try…

You can’t, you probably won’t. Because behind your disappointed father that sits on the steps of the stairs, your mother’s portrait bores holes into you. Engraving every word your sister spat out with far more volition.

Monday: Humiliation

Maybe you were brash with your outburst yesterday. Perhaps you could have handled the discontent better but the longer the argument plays in your head the more and more you think there’s no way you’re going to apologize to your sister for that. Not even when said argument led to you making your way to the first funeral home by foot because she refused to pick up the phone.

You couldn’t ask your father to drive you there nor were you going to ask anyone else in your family. Those leeches had only made an effort to contact you to ask for more things they could take and when turned down they’d drop their sugar bowls and act as sour as you remember them. It’s laughable. How high and mighty they act but turn into grimy beggars attempting to slither their way into the home for more and more things to steal.

It’s happened a handful of times since your arrival. All ending with you slamming the door in their faces and them calling you the same names your mother used to. Disguising their visit as a form to check on your father without waiting for him to come down the stairs before acting like debt collectors. By now he knows not to come down, he’s always left panting and huffing on the last step when they leave.

There’s been a few times they’ve been able to fool you. Their appreciation for taking over the funeral plans soothing your soul and causing you to release a content sigh, all to come crumbling when they mention how this was a nice gift for your sister.

“So kind of you to take this off your sister’s hands. She’s already stressed enough with the wedding, you’re truly an angel, Y/n.” It’s so cut throat, fictitious, and treated like a burden. Each word pierces your jugular and is brought down to your chest, carving a cross over your skin. “God bless you.” The concluding words to whatever game they want to play at.

“God bless you.”

A laugh leaves your mouth, covering it with your gloved hand as your head shakes. Oh, Y/n… What can you expect from your family? All so selfish and conceited. Spoiled and rotten. Rotten to the core.

The headphones on the Walkman threaten you to stop moving so much, inching closer to snapping off your head and leave you with the sound of cars driving past. Some, confused on why you would walk in this weather and lack of sidewalks. There’s no time to explain that your sister and family are petty. Enough to not take care of your father while you’re gone and the only person you trust to look after him is the neighbor, Mrs. Mimi and her dog Rek. At least with them you know your father’s belongings won’t be gone within minutes.

Usually you’re not against walking to places. It’s the only thing you can do back in the city where everything is within walking distance and at least the view is pretty. As pretty as skyscrapers and tourists are but it’s better than cracked pavement, rickety old homes with old men sitting on the porch nearly naked despite the freezing temperatures, and roadkill almost every day. Anyhow, you hate to admit that you’d rather see this than the horrendous interior design of this first funeral home.

You can blame the lighting and the textures of every surface. Despite this, nothing justifies how horrendous acid yellow carpeting and neon purple wood paneling look together. Obnoxious in the way that forces your brain to transmit the message of hurling your guts out and nothing would show on the carpet. Perhaps it’s happened before according to the stench — discarding the cadavers below ground.

“Shit show.” You huff under your breath, taking out a notepad from your purse.

“What was that?” It comes out friendly, playful despite the chill it forces all over your body. Swiveling on your heel to turn to two men emerging from the backroom. They smile acknowledging your presence but don’t press the matter. “Sorry, how may I help you?” The shorter one smiles. It’s scarily similar to Pee-wee Herman’s, far more disturbing. You chalk it up to his growing bald spot, making him look like an aging uncle despite most likely being around your age.

“Hello…” Nervously, your hand waves. “I’m Y/n, I called yesterday about funeral plans.” His ankles click with each other, knees straightening up as his face lights up comically. As if a light bulb actually lit before his eyes. “Right! Ms. Y/l/n, I was just showing Mr. Jung what the plan consists of. Would you want to see it too or do I leave you two to discuss it?” His ominous and strained smile returns, blinking too fast for his own liking and it makes him look frightening but perhaps that uneasiness is what keeps the place in business.

He doesn’t seem to catch onto your confusion on why you’d talk with the taller stranger beside him. In comparison to the funeral director, the other man is relaxed. His hands remain inside his wool coat, dark as his hair that makes his skin seem brighter. He was a little too pale for this area, even in the winter the sun shines bright.

You’re within seconds of concluding that he’s an attendant until he speaks up, hands coming out of the coat pockets. “Mr. Holmes, would you mind giving Ms. Y/l/n and I, a minute alone to discuss?” And that only manages to furrow your eyebrows further to the point your eyes may be bulging out. You’ve never been good at hiding your emotions. Your mother made sure to take full advantage of that.

The funeral director isn’t told twice. Leaving a packet with the stranger that thanks him before releasing a heavy sigh and rocking in his heels as his eyes mimic yours. He shakes his head, making an odd expression with his mouth that tells you something you know already.

“Shit show.”

And it bothers you how easy it was for him to knock down your defensiveness to snicker along with him.

When both seem to calm down, he clears his throat, extending his hand for you to shake. Skeptically you take it, never removing your gloves and clutching the pen in your other hand. “Y/n…” He smiles fondly, his other hand coming to clutch yours as well. It feels odd and it confuses you, enough to bubble up an upset.

“Y/n Y/l/n, it’s been so long since I’ve seen you.” An airy chuckle of finality escapes him, his head dips as he smiles widely like you’ve known each other for ages while the only thing that crosses your mind is: “Who the fuck is this guy?” It’s obvious in the way you’re giving him that same reserved look from seconds ago. One he chalks up to the distance and he shakes his head to relax.

“From your AP world history and APUSH classes… Remember me?” His voice lilts, eyebrow twitching as he recalls. You truly don’t know what he’s talking about and while his expressions are soft, yours are in perpetual incertitude. “Well, we went to the same middle and high school but- I don’t know, I thought high school would be easier for you to recall. You remember me, right?”

His tone doesn’t falter, he’s still as joyous as you’ve first heard him. He’s trying his darn best but if you’re being honest to yourself, you have no idea who this man is. Your body betrays you though, faux laugh escaping your lips as you nod. “Yeah! Yeah… AP Biology, right?” Your eyebrows don’t unknit and there is when he begins to question himself. He hums but shakes his head despite his smile slowly falling.

“No, no… We only had the same AP humanities classes.” “Ah… Yeah, APUSH.”

It’s difficult to understand how easily discomfort settles.

“Victor Asuel, right?” While you smile, he replicates it uncomfortably. “The one that got a perm and had to go bald when it burnt the scalp, yeah?” Jaehyun joins you in an uneasy laugh, shaking his head to awkwardly correct you. “No, Jaehyun. Jung. I sat next to you in world history and well… APUSH.” He chuckles uncomfortably, his hands finally leaving yours to shove them in his coat pockets. Hurt, you’re aware of that.

“Sorry…” It’s a dead end you don’t think you’re able to get out of. Charismatic as he is, he smiles shaking his head. “Forget about it, it’s fine. It’s been a while, yeah.” He nods, looking at your face to memorize all expressions. “It’s been over ten years anyways.”

Jaehyun sucks in his teeth, sighing afterwards. “I’m also your sister's fiance if that helps.” It’s muted and less exciting than the original topic. It doesn’t help, you had no care of who she was marrying if you’re being sincere but at least you know there’s another reason for him to talk to you.

“Oh. Okay.”

“Thoughts on the plan?” This time you try to break the silence. “Shit show.” He repeats, shaking his head with that same nice smile of his. He’s comfortable and that’s good enough for you. “On three we run out?” You suggest and that smile widens showing his pearly whites. The likes, emphasizing the lines around his nose, the type that tells you he’s smiling genuinely hard.

“Now!” His hand takes a hold of your arm pulling you out of the funeral home while the entrance bell blares for the funeral director that you’re running out without sealing the deal. Mr. Holmes must have smelt the rejection from down the mortuary that he runs upstairs with a bloodied apron still on, stumbling on the disgusting carpet that stains his polished shoes.

He yells something that sounds like begging whines, intermixed with growls. All fading when he covers his mouth with his fist, the other clutching his disgusting apron. Jaehyun had learned that this funeral home was the most successful one. Not a single decline for the past two years – of course all due to their pushiness. This will be the first time. You make sure to annotate that on the pocket notebook you’ve been clutching since entering.

That initiated your journey of looking through funeral homes with him. Jaehyun wasn’t quiet, he liked to talk a lot. If the dog was pissing on the side of the road he’d laugh then become concerned for its safety but wouldn’t stop the car to help it onto the sidewalk.

He talked about how horrible the paneling in the second funeral home was. How the humidity had sunk in and now the walls were swollen. He talked about the light fixtures in the second funeral home. The light bulbs were foggy and therefore made the place look disgusting. It reminded you eerily of your mother. Word for word and it made you resent him without trying. Jaehyun talked a lot about everything but mostly about a past that you don’t recall.

“Do you remember Dorcas Reus.” He animatedly questions. “No.” You respond, scowling at how the whipped cream on his milkshake clung to his cheek. “No, I don’t either.” He nods to himself without looking at you. This time he hesitates, lips twisting to the side as he contemplates his next words.

“I’m sorry for your loss, Y/n.” There it is. Took him long enough considering the nature of your time together this day. You reassure him with a smile, nodding while the words slowly process in your brain and your mouth agrees to let them out. It doesn’t want to but your tongue force them out. “Thank you.” He shares a quizzical look, one that tells you that maybe your answer is too cold and simple for people’s liking but it’s the best you can do.

If he had anything to say about it, he ignores it. “Truly, she was like a second mom to me.” There’s sincerity in each word that curdles the milk in your own milkshake, etching a scowl in your face as you push the glass away.

It’s rich, coming from a stranger.

It’s rich, of course anything associated with your sister will receive your mother’s love more than you’ve ever felt.

It’s rich.

“Right.”

He purses his lips, halting whatever words he had said afterwards from hearing you interject. He breathes through his nose, back firm against the cold backrest of the diner’s booth. It’s easy to sense what he feels, at least in that subject you can relate to him.

“Why isn’t my sister here by the way?”

“Right!” It’s more joyous coming from his mouth. Dwindling when the nature of reality comes back to him and it presents itself as a deep blush across his face and scorching warmth at the back of his neck. He rubs at it to cool it down but your steady gaze makes it unbearable. “You see, we had dinner with some others in your family.” Almost everyone. “And they’re all busy with the wedding, she’s busy with the wedding… I offered, it’s the least I can do for your mom.”

Words are heavy in his mouth, thumping against the vinyl tabletop and bouncing your way. You know he’s sincere and that makes you hate him a bit more. He has more love for your mother than you and that bothers you. Because while you’re doing it out of self prescribed guilt and obligation he’s doing it because he actually likes her.

Tuesday: Suffocation

Jaehyun was much quieter the following day. That’s not to say he didn’t squabble at any given chance. Who knew he was highly passionate about tap shoes. All stemming from you giggling at how ugly some tap shoes in a garbage bin were. He scolded you like you’ve known each other for years. That may be true in his reality but in yours, you have no idea who this man is.

He fears you’ve suffered from memory loss. Recalling almost every single event that you two went through in your early academic years but when you hum with a nod and he can tell you’re lying about remembering he sighs and nods, giving you a name of a classmate that he hasn’t talked to in years but recalls for some odd reason.

He was highly passionate about paneling as well. Yesterday, that was an important factor that made him discard all the other funeral homes. Today it was the flooring and after touring two other ones that expected you to give them your first born, here he was conversing with the funeral home director the same age as your father about how horrible things have become since Reagan entered. In the short span you’ve been with him, you’ve learned that he’s comfortable and decided.

Mr. Nix was no better than Jaehyun, jumping from interest to interest like the fleas on the stray cat. He feeds it tuna and deli meats, the only things he will eat, Mr. Nix claims, emerging from the backroom with a packet and a bag of cookies in his other hand. Jaehyun chuckles along with him and you’re thankful that he’s here for the poor old man would be nothing but uncomfortable if it was just you.

He truly has a beautiful funeral home. The walls resemble your grandmother’s. Pristine white but clean with rinceau scrolls wrapping around the bottom and top of each wall. There’s no carpet, thankfully. Beautiful mosaic flooring with spring colors replacing it and form an image of an angel in the center where the body will be seen. It’s too expensive from sight alone and you fear what it will come to but this is for your mother. Even in death you try to please her.

“I’ve circled the pain points and the discounts amounted. We can handle a payment plan. I don’t usually do that but I can trust you folks.” He completes his chuckle, placing the packet on the marble counter. He turns somber, looking at the cookies as if they contain his soul. “Here,” he addresses you after all this time with a smile. “I’m sorry for your loss, dear. Lavender lemon cookies, they were your mom’s favorite… Your dad’s too.”

The sincerity in his expression makes your chest ache. He knows your parents, he knows what your mother likes and what your father does too. He knows them and is making an effort to acknowledge your dad… unlike the rest of the world. It’s uncharacteristic of you but you sigh with a wide smile, taking the older man into an embrace.

It takes him by surprise, though, he’s the wiser to know this is a confused little girl that needs some comfort. He pats your head — throwing a look at Jaehyun, one which means more to the younger than intended — while wrapping his own arms around you before you ease out of it within seconds. Embarrassed by yet another public humiliation ritual of your own.

“Thank you, Mr. Nix… we’ll see you soon.”

He nods, perplexed by your response. A sheer layer of horror from what Jaehyun’s eyes tell him and for a second he could be confused with clairvoyant if he was to speak his mind.

Too much affection in one gaze. Too much affection for too little time.

You attempt to flip through the package in the car while he drives to the flower shop you were meant to meet your sister. Albeit, the weight of the cookies in your palm is uncomfortable. The clear bag prickles your skin, unbearable like the touch of microfiber cloth with the exception in which you feel this ten times worse. They smell divinely, you’ll give them that but your mind gnaws with memories you’ve pushed away with this confection in particular.

Jaehyun is considerate enough to not question it. While he loves to talk, he knows you don’t. The most he utters is: “We’re here.” while he parks the car, a pathetic side smile attempting to comfort you. You thank him regardless, he’s been good enough to sweet talk the directors while you examine what the plans included.

He’s been company. Good enough company.

There’s only three times you’ve been inside of the flower shop. Once to buy your mother a bouquet for mother’s day that she hated with her entire soul. Second, for your parent’s fifteenth anniversary. And most recently for your mother’s funeral preparations. It’s comforting how nothing has changed besides seasonal flowers and plants.

Your sister doesn’t hesitate to greet him with a kiss when the threshold is crossed. Pushing you aside like any obstacle in her way. Lord only knows your state of mind for this act was comforting and familiar enough that you smile to yourself, something Jaehyun doesn’t miss.

They converse for the time being, you don’t waste time on flipping through the mangled pieces of funeral arrangement catalogs and looking around to find flowers. Some look too old and battered for the price and others are simply to ugly for an arrangement. Well… maybe your mom does deserve those.

You’re not too sure when Jaehyun had joined your side. You only recall your eyebrows knitting when he pointed at something in your pocket notebook. “You misspelled that.” He utters playfully and it bothers you beyond belief that you ripped off the page and begin from the top again while listing all the flowers you thought were good. He responds with nods and hums, similar to the ones you give your sister when she shows you flowers instead of her soon to be husband.

She doesn’t trust him. She doesn’t trust her soon to be husband.

The grating voice in the back of your head keeps gnawing at your brain, reaching your eye sockets and forcing your eyelids to bunch up together the louder your sister laughs with the clerk and Jaehyun’s voice rumbles against your ear drums. Incessant and miserable, yet, not comparable to the twinging screech of the credit card imprinter laughing at you for another failed attempt at maintaining the peace.

Eyes wide open, your body abrasively turns to your sister and the clerk. Reaching them with three long strides while your eyes bore holes into the imprinter that’s full to the max with your father’s credit card. “What the hell?” It’s raw and vulnerable and so pathetic that you want to rip your hair out when all she musters is a pitiful mocking-faux-confused grin.

“Why did you ask to meet here if you’re not even helping in finding flower arrangements for mom’s funeral?” Good, less whiny but still pathetic in everyone’s eyes. “Jaehyun is here for that.” She shrugs nonchalantly all the while she signs the receipt the clerk hands her.

“What’s that for?” Jaehyun interjects in the conversation. His lips are puckered in a way you’ve never seen and his features are sharper than you’d ever imagine they could become. She dismisses him too. With a scoff this time to express her discontent and it makes you question many menial things that shouldn’t matter in this second. “Last minute additions, don’t worry.”

Jaehyun felt far more bothered than you’d think he’d be. Frustration carves itself on his face and for a second you believe the words spewing from his mouth would tattoo themselves onto his face. “We came to a deal that you’d stop spending on the wedding. It’s too near for you to spend willy-nilly when you should worry about your mother!” He does not intend to bawl, obvious by the red that tinges his ears.

You don’t fall too behind, taking advantage of Jaehyun’s generosity knowing he’d back you up if things worsen. “We had a deal too. You can’t just spend dad’s money on things you don’t need anymore. The caterer was enough, Jesus Christ!” Her name teeters near the precipice of your tongue but that would humanize her too much.

Bewilderment becomes her new acquaintance. Visibly upset at the turn of events that hold her words off in the back of her throat with a net of saliva too thick to swallow. Airy protests, the best she can utter before her body has mercy on her and she screeches, offendedly at the gang up she’s never experienced before. Only witnessed through your disadvantage.

“Well fucking sue me!” Her arms flail animatedly, harsh when they grace against both your arms ‘accidentally’. Her mouth is still puckered in offended disbelief showing more than her teeth— those gums she’s not fond of. “Fucking sue me for wanting a pretty wedding as a way to cope over mom being fucking dead!” And so bratty. “Cancel it! Cancel the transaction and take the stupid card if I’m such a burden to you two!”

How familiar, how comforting. It brings a smile to your face and your eyes close for a second. She truly is your mother’s daughter. Even in the way she runs out of the flower shop, crocodile tears staining her tulle scarf.

Her theatrics force your head to shake with an eye roll as you sign the canceling transaction forms. The clerk is upset at the loss but very much entertained with Jaehyun’s dilemma. The man standing in the middle of the store with hands on his hips looking at the crystal door and seeing your sister hop inside the car.

You don’t hear any crying, that’s something she still needs to learn to do. Cry loud enough to be heard from miles away to get her tantrum through. That’s what mom would do.

“Lilies or peonies?” You ask the clerk, a contemplative look on her face. She thinks both are horrid but will offer you both to make up for the loss you caused. “Lavender,” Jaehyun answers for her. It shocks you that he’s still in here and not with your sister. No, it upsets you that he’s still here. With you and not her.

“She hated lavender.” You deny confidently, that is the one thing you’re sure about your mother. He’s kind and gentle, at least his smile is when he attempts to correct you. “She always bought lavender stocks. Said they were the most delicious thing she’s ever known to exist.” It’s a fond memory of his. “Mr. Nix is right. She loved lavender lemon cookies.”

His stupid chuckle was the lowest blow, not even the way his eyes narrowed pissed you off more than his stupid affectionate tone. And if he had doubts that you were your mothers daughter and his fiancee's sister, he’d be reassured you are with the way you shut the dingy catalogs and shove your pocket notebook into your purse. Brashly walking out of that overbearing floral shop.

Jaehyun is sweet. He’s kind and patient. He’s understanding, putting his incessant vice of speaking behind to let you think in peace. His glances don’t go unnoticed by you and you don’t know how to take it. His presence annoys you but it’s also very comforting that you don’t know how you’d handle these preparations without his support. It’s a game of push and pull where you’re the only one playing at his expense and he’s still there. Stuck with nostalgia over things you don’t recall.

“Do you remember Karla Morris?” “That’s not a real person.” “I know.” Jaehyun turns to you at a stop light, laughing at your attempt to emulate him. You smile at him flatly which is good enough for him to know you’re feeling better.

“I want to eat dinner with my dad tonight.” Jaehyun nods, taking a right. “I do too. We’ll pick something up on the way.” He quickly adds before you push him away. So little time and he knows your habits already. Allowing the word ‘alone’ to die in the cavity of your mouth and expel through a sigh that draws you towards the lavender lemon cookies on your lap. Your fingers shiver with a need to crush each one inside the bag.

“She hated lavender lemon cookies. She made it a mission to remind me every day after she spat out the ones I made for her.” A frown tugs at your lips, received with neutral understanding. “Said it tasted like stale soap.” Your chuckle must’ve been so bitter that his hand lands on yours, letting one of the cookies crack underneath the weight.

“How long ago was that?” “I was twelve.” “How old are you now?”

Like clockwork, your neck cranes slowly. Eyes narrowed in a mix of disdain and playfulness. “I know what you’re doing.” You crack a smile, annoyed but amused. Irritated but surprisingly endeared. He laughs louder than before, his smile as big as when you first met him.

“Minds change, people change, taste buds too… maybe consider it.” It’s so easy for him to say that it reminds you why his presence irritates you so much. He’s sweet, kind, and patient. Then he speaks and it’s a giveaway that he doesn’t understand. Not the way you want him to.

Your mother never changes. She was adamant in drilling that through everyone's head. Boasting and celebrating when she had heard a song the previous year that resonated with her about nothing being able to change her.

“Who cares what I do and say. I’m this way and I’ll never change.”

Your mother is two sides of the same coin that you and Jaehyun share with the exception that you’ll always be on the losing end when it comes to flipping it. Jaehyun understands when to step down but he doesn’t understand what it is to be your mother’s child. Let alone her oldest daughter.

Wednesday: Condescension

“Hey! Settle in, dad is watching TV. I’ll be in the kitchen with Mrs. Mimi for a bit.”

The house is livelier than Jaehyun recalls. His last visit was the day your mother was taken away and the color had been drained from every wall in this vicinity. Now it’s warm and homey again like Christmas Eve. You as well, he blindly believes. Your inviting smile lures him into a reality where nothing life altering has happened. A smile he remembers vividly on a thirteen year old Y/n, as foreign it is to you now.

He knows this house like the back of his hand and when he reaches your father there’s a serenity to his face that calms Jaehyun further. Your mother’s portraits are soft again and there’s noise in the house. So much noise that makes Jaehyun want to sigh in relief. Things are normal again! Please be normal again…

Rek is next to your dad’s recliner chair, grumbling when he smells Jaehyun. He wasn’t familiar with Mrs. Mimi nor her dog but he often left treats for it outside the front door per request from your dad. Your mother hated it and through the pet, Jaehyun could taste the demise you’ve known for longer. One crack on the wall doesn’t always bring it down.

Catalogs are scattered across the rug, TV’s reflection on the worn out glossy covers. Neither speak for what feels like an eternity after greetings, entertained with their own fixations. Your father mimicked the dog’s complaints with everything wrong from last year's F1 championship results. He hated every single driver and team but his hate watch was more entertaining.

“Y/n, your boyfriend is on screen.” He calls over when the rerun for the Portugal Grand Prix began. “Y/n likes Nigel Mansell.” Your father clears it with Jaehyun as if it was meant to bother the younger. Jaehyun smiles cluelessly, “He’s not very good.” Your dad whispers, you still hear him. “He lost the championship by two points, don’t be like that.” You defend in a whine and Jaehyun understands now why your father would try to clear things up with him.

“He’s too old for you.” “He’s only five years older.” “Well he looks too old.”

Your dad’s quibble is comedic and protective; Jaehyun scowls, confused on how this man was anywhere near both your ages when he looked to be nearing your father’s age. Happy on the podium with his trophy and champagne on hand looking in his 40s, only thirty-three.

It’s all forgotten when you lie besides him on the floor, flipping through worn out catalog pages and jotting down notes. It’s a different notebook now. This one is in brown leather and binder rings in the middle. Loose pages of paper, cards, and receipts in every pocket. Occasionally you’ll make a wrong move that makes many of those scrap pages slip out. From that he’s seen a few words that he doesn’t think he’s meant to see. It’s the most he’s received to be filled in on your life.

Now he knows you like a daily Dunkin’. You frequent the movie theater six times a week (one singular ticket with a large drink), spend too much at Tower Records, and hate going to the mall but love to watch people. "Pathetic, solitary, weird, but real.” as it read from the back of a dirty Pretzel Peddler receipt.

You don’t ask him for input on the flower arrangements. Both of you working in silence with a few glances from your dad here and there. Jaehyun himself flips through catalogs, reading everything you jot down without finding your notes useful.

While prices and deals claim your focus, Jaehyun’s is taken by the symbolism of even the smallest flower he can find. You’ve chosen pre-made arrangements and wreaths, all white and boring. His lips twist in a disappointed scowl that lets it pass while he circles the things he likes.

He doesn’t stop your robotics until you pull out the order form. Sliding closer to you with urgency, gripping your hand to not continue. “Those are nice, yeah. But… here,” he points at the first flowers he marked. “Your mom got a kick out of pulling little pranks. Laughing when the kids that set off car alarms were zapped every time they attempted to ding-dong-ditch. Geraniums, for happiness, joy.”

There, that fondness is again. The one that laughs at you for not knowing small things. Reinforced when your dad lets out a sly chuckle himself, shaking his head at a memory you’re fabricating in your head.

“I think if we add purple Morning Glories for happiness, blue Day lilies that have represented mothers since the Tang Dynasty and white Lilies and Roses like you originally planned then we’d have good arrangements with a message.”

Jaehyun is ecstatic, the twinkle in his eyes tell you he means no malice but the seed that your mother planted whispers in your ear that he’s doing it for the same reasons little kids that like to gloat speak about their vacation trips and birthday presents.

Words tussle among themselves in your mouth, fighting to see in which tone they will leave and whether they’ll be harsh or not. Shaky as they come, rattling every tooth in your mouth, “Too colorful, no? She hated blue.” So matter-of-factly that makes Jaehyun smile politely knowing he’s going to correct you.

“She loved blue. Wore it daily after that blue dress you had for our silver anniversary.” Your dad kindly recalls the memory.

The same blue dress she called you a doxy for.

Jaehyun’s twinkle dies when he turns to you. He can’t see your eyes but feels the heat from your body radiate. “Okay, write them down.” You push the form and pen his way, taking the unopened catalogs. “And add Petunias in there.” He doesn’t question the finality, not the significance. It’s the least he can do.

Mrs. Mimi calls for everyone, dinner was ready despite it being four in the afternoon. Your father is the most eager, cackling like he hasn’t since the doomed day. It’s nice enough to kill it with your questions.

“Dad? Did mom really like lavender?” Sheepish and childlike, memories that are not strong enough to dwindle the ache in his chest. He turns to you, forcing a smile with his nod. “Yes… everyone that wanted her knew lavenders were her favorites. They’d give these huge bouquets that would make her sneeze. I always gave her the smallest ones, she said it was the perfect amount every time.” He laughs, ignoring your stare to let the fond memories flow. “She would make lavender lemon cookies with them. Your grandma, though, hated them. Spat them out every time there was any and called them soap.” He shakes his head frantically, more so to avoid the guilt from your glazing eyes.

Forsaken with the clicking of keys when your sister opens the front door.

Dinner goes as expected, silent besides the blaring voice of your sister talking about her wedding. Mrs. Mimi is the only one to ask questions and Jaehyun gives polite smiles and nods to your sister for reassurance. He doesn’t know what she’s talking about but this makes her happy.

Your dad on the other hand had reverted to the state you saw him when you first arrived. Eating slowly while you flip through JCPenny catalogs for the outfit your mother was to choose. Everything is horrendous and overpriced, choosing whatever looks the most appropriate.

“That’s hideous, Y/n. Don’t do that.” Your sister cuts off her wedding talk, projecting a disgusted face at the white dress you had circled. You had drowned out her voice for the past hour that it startled you to be acknowledged. The deer-in-headlights look like you gave her only forcing a scoff to leave. Snatching the catalog from your hands and sliding it her way.

Disgusted, she’s not shy about it with every flip of the page. Sly comments here and there while Jaehyun whispers that it’s unnecessary. “No, mom would rather die again than be seen wearing these.” She pettishly wails, the same offended look from yesterday. When Jaehyun turns quiet and your dad stops eating, she halts her own actions knowing it may have been tone deaf.

“Silly sis…” She giggles. “I’m just saying that if you had stayed you’d know she wasn’t a fan of simple but not quite flashy.” No matter how sugar sweet her voice is, the patronizing doesn’t quaver. She gives you the smile she uses to calm down Jaehyun with no effect at all on you.

“Fine, you choose that and let me choose the jewelry from her box before you keep them, yeah?” You try to reason, sighing exhaustively with your fingers raking through your tousled hair. And if the clothes were bad, the mention of jewelry was far worse.

“What?! No! No, no.” She laughs off her feelings, nervous with the confused looks that even Mrs. Mimi is giving her now. It’s awkward and tense but she can’t believe this is being said to her. “No, I just think it’s dangerous. It’s going to be an open casket service and with how the family has been acting…” Her head bobbles with the insinuation. She’s right but you also know her and you know she’s full of shit. “I think it’s best that she doesn’t take anything. Free of worry for everyone and she can rest without having to think of grave thieves as well.”

You’d think she made a great point with the self reassured nod she gives, looking at her fiance to make sure he’s following her drift but turns to your father angrily when Jaehyun glares at her. Something she hasn’t seen since you arrived. Your dad on the other hand avoids her gaze the way he avoided yours.

He’s always been cowardly.

“You won’t even let her take her daily wear? Not her ring and earrings, at least?” The disbelief in your voice irks her, annoyed that your voice sounds as patronizing as hers when addressing you. You’ve overstayed your time and if it wasn’t for the funeral planning she would’ve kicked you out like your mother times past. No, she simply sighs, and shakes her head with a faux pensive look on her face.

“I want to wear them for my wedding—” “You have two large jewelry boxes for that.” “Something borrowed… something old, something new, something blue. The daily fits all the marks.”

No she wasn’t going to give her jewelry to be buried six feet underground. Who is she to let good jewelry corrode for no one to see?

Your mother’s favorite daughter.

“If you see fit…” Your father answers before you can, eyes glued to the dog that silently wails in pain for reasons unknown to you all. “Dad… she loved those earrings.” You try to reason, begging in silence for him to look at you. To look at you when you’re speaking, for fucks sake!

He’s not strong enough for that. He’s never been strong for anything related to your mother. Mustering only the art of shaking his hand to settle things down. “It would be lovely to see either of you wear them… It so happens your mother wants her to have them. They are hers now to decide their faith.” The heaviness of his voice is heartbreaking and it turns your mind to sludge. The toxic kind that evaporates and poisons the entire universe if it’s let out. Like fungal spores.

“Even dad knows best.” Your sister throws the rock that decidedly let out that venom and for their own good you shake your own thoughts away, fingernails clinging to the cushion as you push your chair away. Your father’s disappointment on your sister matters no more, he still made his choice to enable her choices. He’s a coward as much as Jaehyun that only offers apologetic looks.

“Yes… Excuse me then, I’ll go make some calls.” You utter with your father’s monotonous voice. He winces hearing the similarities and the sound of your steps. A coward. He knows he’s a coward but will do nothing about it. He’s lived too long this way.

You don’t know how long time passes, all you know is your nose won’t stop being stuffy and your eyes are trying to force out tears that won’t come. Making you feel like the worst daughter to ever exist.

It’s useless to try to cry, groaning out of frustration and taking the pack of cigarettes you bought a few days ago when you felt the same way. Making your way out your room to chip a piece of paint from your mother’s hallway portraits on the way downstairs towards the backyard.

A fluorescent blue that was always calming as a child illuminates the pool. Moonlight makes it more soothing and it reminds you of the times you spent your summers as toddlers swimming with your sister and father at night because that’s the only times you'd see him in those days.

The days when your sister inherently loved you.

The memory fades away with the smoke you exhale, trying to cling with no avail after the sigh that follows right after.

“Mind if I have one?” Jaehyun’s soothingly grating voice cranes your neck. The sound of the sliding doors keeps you grounded. Tossing the box his way to catch, with a box of matches. He manages to catch the larger box while the matches recoil in his grasp, jumping into the pool.

A bummer, you really liked the iconography in the back.

“Sorry…” He sighs, scolded with the look you give him when you stand up from your crouching position. Connecting your lit cigarette with his. The proximity to his face lets you see the small details you hadn’t noticed this entire time. His eyes are darker than you remember. They’re nice, they’re warm. You like them…

Jaehyun had been inhaling deeply during the transaction, heavily letting it out in the form of smoke when he thanked you. A good distance between you both that transcends into a comfortable silence; cigarettes racing among each other to see which one burns the fastest.

Ironically, his does, leaving him with nothing else to concentrate on besides what he has been thinking about telling you all afternoon. He licks his lower lip, looking between you, the conch shell ashtray that looks too familiar, the pool, and you again. His eyes tracing over that pattern to put off the remaining bud.

“I’ll talk to her. About the jewelry. Don’t worry.” He nods like he’s doing you a favor. The last bit of cigarette burning away with the stare you give him. Exuding energy that makes your cigarette burn faster and force the smoke to frantically leave.

“Can we not?” Irritated was the tone of your voice that made him wince and cower away. “I’m sorry.” He offers and he truly is but the awkwardness eats him away. He’s like a child trying to bond with their cool older neighbor that pays them no mind and finds them annoying.

“Everyone just seems to know her more than I do, it’s pathetic.” You derail, it’s whiny and peevish like your sister’s tone. “Does it fully bother you?” He questions, weighing the similarities. “It does for now but I think once I go back, I won’t care again.” Your lips purse, humming contemplatively. He mimics yours expressions and sounds, nodding as a difference. “Count your days then.”

Not much has made you laugh but this does, showing him a smile he hasn’t seen in days. “It sounds like a threat.” You joke, he follows with a chuckle and a grin, “It is. But a threat to not think too much about it.”

He knows how to kill the mood.

“It’s my mom’s funeral, how can I not?” You’re irked. He knows he’s irked you once again and he yearns to know when he should stop. It’s overbearing and tiring for him to keep fucking up but he doesn’t know when to stop talking.

“I didn't mean it like that, I’m sorry… That was too aloof on my part, I'm sorry.” He begs, eyebrows knitted looking at you. His eyes are still dark but hurt unlike earlier.

“I don't know how to take it either, Jaehyun.” You grumble, standing up from your spot, putting the cigarette bud off on the delicate shell that cracks with the heat. The silence surrounding both isn’t comfortable like it was only a few minutes ago. It’s tense and intoxicating, filling his lungs with tar making them heavy and he knows he can’t stay here for longer.

“Her wedding outfit. What she was going to wear for our wedding. You should choose that.” It sounds strange, ‘our wedding’ like he’s talking about his and your wedding not his and your sister’s wedding. You go stiff at the thought, it’s too intimate and immoral. It’s you now that needs to get out of there before you let the repression do or say anything stupid.

Your hands tingle when they clasp onto the sliding door handle, his gaze on your turned back holding you in place. You’re sure neither of you know what either want but whatever you’re feeling shouldn’t be there. A goodnight is polite, better than bye yet neither wants to leave your cold lips aching for warmth. No, rather you slide the door open leaving him behind.

Between your own, your mother’s ghost’s, and your father’s judgment the heaviness persists the longer the older man looks at you without speaking. He’s looking at you. He’s finally looking at you directly in the eyes with a distraught disappointment as if he knows what you’re thinking. There he knew you’re also your father’s daughter. Cowering away from anything remotely complicated. The words evident in the harsh smoke of your father’s own cigar when walking past him.

Thursday: Pathetic

Jaehyun hadn’t mentioned anything from the previous night when he came around to pick you up. Your father hadn’t either, not like he would anyways. Mrs. Mimi had let Jaehyun in, forcing him to eat breakfast with the rest of you while Rek growled at him anytime he got near you to speak. The dog truly was not fond of him for whatever reason which wounded Jaehyun and confused you. Your father didn’t voice it but thought the dog was too perspective for either of you. The boundary that separates it all.

But Rek wasn’t here with you two at the funeral home, listening to the radio that gets drawn out by Mr. Nix and Jaehyun as they speak about the weather while you flip through the order forms to make sure everything is correct.

You nitpick at everything. From Jaehyun’s horrible chicken scratch handwriting to the awkward paint chips on the decor. Similar enough and in places that resemble the ones you’ve made on your mother’s portraits around the house these past days.

“Lavender and Lilies… that’s lovely… your mother would’ve loved it.” Mr. Nix’s soothing voice attracts your attention, craning your neck to see him reading the order form still in your hands.

He smiles widely, laughing quietly until it turns into a sob upon sensing your eyes on him. It’s startling, feeling like a bubble for only you two being created. Jaehyun was no longer anywhere in sight and the doorbells by the backdoor kept ringing melodiously. You’ve never been great in these situations.

Comfort was only granted by coworkers after you got scolded for a mistake, none very genuine. Or by strangers who wanted the feel of one night with you. Mr. Nix wants nothing of that sort from you, you’re not even sure if he wants comfort with the way his smile tries to not seize.

“I loved your mother, you know. She was my first love and I want to think I was hers too.” He sniffles, a handkerchief in his hand that you never saw him take out. “Of course she would say your father was but she had been choosing between the two before going steady with either.” He nods as if it was common sense. You knew your mother loved your father but she could have loved him as much as you with the way she took her hatred out on him when you weren’t around.

“Your grandmother never liked me. Not sure why but she just didn't.” He shrugs, lips pursed in surrender. “Your mother would say it was because I made her happy and it’s something your grandmother didn't like. I could see that.”

Oh.

The apple was rotten right to the core from all those that came before.

“I don’t know when it happened but suddenly the next thing I knew about your mother was that she was getting married to your father. That sent me into a spiral and when I returned from my breakdown trip, you were already here.” Melancholy floods those poor foggy eyes, cataracts forming from pain. He looks at you for longer than you’d like, sensing his desire to know what floods your mind but you’re as hard to read as your mother was, eliciting a chuckle.

“I gave her one last call to ask how labor had been, to make sure she was fine and when you cried, we both said our goodbyes. We knew that was it. Y/n, that’s the name we’d give a girl if we ever had one.”

There’s no more wonder why Jaehyun and Mr. Nix get along so well, both are horrendous at keeping to themselves and both know how to irk your nerves beyond belief.

Maybe this is why your mother chose your mousy father rather than this chatterbox.

Regret floods Mr. Nix at your perpetual silence and where he hadn’t been able to tell what you were feeling earlier, he could feel your frustrated disgust concentrated in the blank look. It’s warm, piercing, and as painful as the ones your mother would give him.

You’re just like her.

Mr. Nix sighs, gaze dropping with a final sigh, “Congratulations on your wedding, dear. Jaehyun cares for you deeply. Trust me…” It dawns upon you that Mr. Nix thought you’re the one marrying Jaehyun. It brings that similar pit in your stomach from last night.

‘Our wedding.’

Yours and Jaehyun’s. Not your sisters and Jaehyun’s.

Every bone in your body attempts to not combust into powder. Neurons arguing among themselves on how to respond or if to ignore him. He’s added damage to your perception of your mother, you’re not too sure he’s deserving of any more socially appropriate politeness.

The backdoor bells ring, blaring content for what is being brewed in this room. It’s uncomfortable, disgustingly sticky tension the while you look at Mr. Nix and he looks back at you with confusion and somewhat freight. Eerie how similar you resemble your mother.

“Ready to go? Apparently your sister wants me to pick up the veil.” Jaehyun sighs looking at his pager, the TV guide in his hand crumpled with burnt edges. He had been clenching to it as he smoked one of your cigarettes.

“Yes,” You tear your gaze from the older of the three, he releases a breath he didn’t know he had been holding in. Glad this easy solution rids him of the painstaking sharp stab in his chest. “Mr. Nix wanted to congratulate us.” You add, turning back to him.

“On?” Jaehyun quizzically questions, “Your wedding, consider all of this my wedding gift for you both and… for your mother.” Mr. Nix turns back to you, a polite apologetic smile for what he has dumped.

Neither you or Jaehyun correct him, the latter thanking him with a hug while you wait by the door for him. He doesn’t speak to you the entirety of the car ride to the bridal shop. Perhaps he’s angry you didn’t correct Mr. Nix but neither did he so it’s much his fault as it is yours. Or perhaps he’s grown tired of your hot and cold behavior with the slightest inconvenience.

Regardless, it’s not for him to care how you react nor do you care.

“Why didn’t you correct him?” He sighs, looking forward. He has that same sunken look he had given your sister last night. You don’t think it’s comparable. In no form is your sister priving your mother of the luxury she grew to know to you not correcting your mother’s old flame about who Jaehyun was to marry. If it mattered that much to him, then he shouldn’t have enabled the old man with a cheery smile and a hug.

You still can’t fathom that he thought you and Jaehyun were the ones getting married. Are you not obvious with how little comfort you find in Jaehyun? Is it not obvious that you can barely stand him? Or is your solitude too grand that people find it a breath of fresh air that someone like Jaehyun floods your vicinity with his polite affection and caring nagging? As if he’s doing you a favor.

Pathetic is what you are seen as in everyone’s eyes. Even Jaehyun's, it seems.

“I’m not the one getting married. You are.”

Friday: Has killed you

It’s filthy, disgusting, and shameful. The wake, everything is beautifully decorated, making you forget it's a funeral, save for the countless pictures of your mother and weeping crowd. You're not sure they're sincere but it makes your father feel calm seeing the masses of people approach the casket. "She's loved." He fondly claims, a sadden smile plastered on his face.

You don't have the heart nor will to remind him that they're all here for appearances and in hopes of taking more things once home. Maybe that's the pessimist in you who cannot fathom your mother being genuinely adored. The words affection and mother are foreign to each other in your mind.

Besides your aunts, sister — surprising despite her indifference this entire week—, and Mr. Nix, you don't hear much wailing. Your father is holding his breath to not shatter in front of all these people.

Chatter from one end to the other, mostly prayer. A part of you feels envious of their ability to let everything out. Why is it that you have to suffer with the weight of your unexplored emotions? Leaving you to dry heave or tear at your hair when nothing expels. Why is it so easy for everyone else to let things go?

Jaehyun's persistent staring doesn't make it any easier. He's made it a mission to fly around you like a hungry vulture waiting for its prey to finally give out and then consume.

Surely, he's not. He's making sure you're doing fine, keeping an eye on you but Lord, do you fucking loathe it. You don't understand it, would be a better descriptor, but it irritates you that he cares so much that you can't fathom any other emotion but dislike.

Perhaps what makes it worse is that your sister is there by his side, every second. You reckon you could handle it if it was just him. After all, this isn't the first time he's kept a watchful eye on you. He's done it the entire week, it just feels too real today out of all days.

Everything is felt too deeply. Today.

Tomorrow is your sister's wedding. Tomorrow is Valentine's Day. Tomorrow is meant to be happy and full of love. But today has killed you. Today has killed any positive perception of those around. It has killed your sensibility and everything is nothing but a shit show. A shit show like Jaehyun described when reconnecting.

Fuck, even that bothers you.

He talks and talks and talks about something that happened before college that you have no prior memory of. The people he mentions, the events, the laughter, the year. You don't remember anything prior to getting a bachelors, how is it that this stranger that is marrying your sister knows more about your life than you do?

How does he know more about your mother than you?

"Y/n!"

Embarrassing. Zoning out in your mother's funeral service.

Mrs. Mimi, the much perceptive, gives you a pitiful smile, hand to your shoulder to hand you a warm Dixie cup. Your head's attempt to shake is futile, the muscles of your neck refuse to move.

"You look tired,"

"More like sickly." Your sister interrupts. Jaehyun looks down at her with furrowed eyebrows to scold. "Drink it, ‘should give you some energy." Mrs. Mimi pushes the cup further into your hand. It's warm and comforting in a sense you haven't experienced.

Despite the bitter taste of ginger and apples in the tea, you drink it. It brings no energy boost, rather it makes you more sleepy but she had all the intention to make you feel better and that keeps you up for longer.

A mother. At least that is what you think a mother should do and Mrs. Mimi was a wonderful mother. Even to those she did not birth.

"Do you remember Jo Josephine?" Jaehyun utters, leaning into you. You hadn't realized when he had sat beside you or when you had been ushered onto a chair.

"No." "No? Really?"

The surprise in his tone doesn't go overlooked. He tends to hum when you respond as such but not this time.

"She was your friend. Always wore a huge gardener hat and gloves with bee print." He chuckles, a surprised chuckle. "Yeah?" You hum, dazed. Well maybe the tea was effective in relaxing your senses. "No, I don't remember any of my friends. It's been too long since I saw any of them." You shrug, the nonchalance in your tone worrying Jaehyun.

Per usual, Jaehyun goes on a tangent about something you don't recall. You've learned to drown his voice out. Muffled in the sea of weeps, his laughter the only outlier that doesn't last long. Another voice joins him but you're too busy with the liquid in your cup to care for what they ought to say.

There's some liquid in the cup. Enough to submerge the small cubes of ginger and apples but cold against your tongue. You swivel around the cup, making it colder. For a part of you longs to be in their place than here. Swimming in a pool of cold water with no preoccupation of the outside world. Being inanimate sounds desirable.

"Y/n!"

It's that same incessant call from earlier. This time you're able to pin it to your sister that looks at you far more annoyed. She grumbles under her breath about something you don't care to hear as Mr. Nix gives you that same pitiful smile Mrs. Mimi had given you. It'd be ironic if he was to give you some tea as well.

"Carriage and burial space is ready to transfer your mother's body." He meekly comments, he's as stuffy as your sister had been. Mustering a nod, you stand up from your spot, not noticing Jaehyun's help when standing up. His hand feels warm against the small of your back.

A huge part of you wants to blame your disconnect with whatever Mrs. Mimi had given you. One second you were standing up at the funeral home giving Jaehyun a long look that for once made your sister quizzical and upset while his hand remained on you and the next you're watching how roses are being tossed over your mother’s casket as Jaehyun ushers you into Mrs. Mimi's car.

The priest's prayer had been the only thing you remember vividly. Reciting every word in hushed murmurs — drowned by the cackling and chattering in the other rooms of the house — while serving coffee into Dixie cups. Mrs. Mimi often tries to take the tray away from your hands and Rek to absorb all of your attention. Both fail miserably.

Jaehyun hadn't stopped looking your way. He tries what Mrs. Mimi and her dog do but he's received harshly. Rather, you send him to make sure no one tries to take anything else or go upstairs to bother your exhausted father, hidden away in his bedroom. The masses of people downstairs and their brewing questions had kept him awake all night.

Your sister? Doing what your mother would have done. Entertain and please the guests. She's your mother's favorite for a reason.

By 20:00 when your mother had passed, she led the novena prayer. The only moment of silence and unity you felt among your extended family and for a second you believed there could be some good in these people.

Of course by 21:03 when prayer was done and they reverted to their constant chatter about stories of old regarding your mother, that serenity left your body once more.

It's outstanding how these memories sound so loving and nurturing. Something you can't recall from your mother. They laugh and cackle about her scoldings. How she'd yell at them for running inside the house, wet from the pool. But it was you that had to clean the entire house right after. It was you that had to make sure there was no chlorine smell left behind.

Your cousins laugh about the time they had attempted to smash your face on your 8th birthday cake but she had told them to not be rude. She had done it. She had smashed your face on that cake and it was difficult to rid away the smell of artificial strawberries from your nose after the jam had gone too far up. The cake was destroyed and they had all gotten upset at you. You never had a party after that. It's been twenty years.

Or the story your aunt is on and on about now. She had gotten so upset at your mother for not letting her borrow grandma's gold bangles for clubbing that she bent them without anyone knowing. Your mom had blamed you for it a week later after making you get them for her in hopes to wear them for a PTA meeting. Your sister's pet at the time had gotten in your way and to avoid stepping on it, you fell. She chalked it up to that and left you to do chores for your aunt an entire week.

There's no way your sensibility can return when all these funny and fond memories of your mother came at your expense and none of them care. None of them will ever care.

You can't take it anymore, rushing upstairs into your room to hide away. You can't say you feel saddened. You do feel a raging heat in your chest that attempts for you to bring your fists hard at your thighs to release it.

The intruder in your room doesn't let that happen. It surprises and annoys you at the same time seeing them there. On your bed with hands on their head while weeping harder than the wailing in public earlier today.

"I'm sorry, my room was locked." Your sister sniffles, slowly turning to look at you. There's a horrific sincerity in her voice that you're not used to. A frame rests on her lap, jittering with her legs.

Your silence draws her attention, handing you the frame while tears flood her waterline. It's a picture of your mother with the both of you. Quite honestly, you don't remember this. It's surprising to see your mother this affectionate with you. Arms encircling your waist and kissing your face.

"Grandma's funeral trip. We went to the lake on the way home, remember?" She questions, blowing her nose. You shake your head, standing straight. You hadn't attempted to take the frame from her hand. You're sure it would leave a branding on your palm, there's no way this is real.

The look in her eye is similar to the one Jaehyun gives you when you don't remember what he's talking about. Although, his is more comprehensive and patient.

"You don't remember this at all?" She asks, taken aback. You want to lie and say you do but knowing who she's marrying, she will just ask follow up questions too. "No." She scoffs in disbelief, swallows it before blinking rapidly. Patient, that's new.

"Mom was ecstatic that week. Rejoicing that the witch was dead and no one would torment her anymore. She treated you better than me for an entire month. Do you not remember that?" She prods, placing the frame on your bed.

You shake your head, she can only laugh. "What has she done to you…" She sighs to herself. She had heard in college about trauma causing memory loss but she had never guessed your mother had been that harsh for you to repress everything. Maybe she just hadn't seen her worse but you can't tell her either. You don't remember, after all.

"Would you be a stand-in for her tomorrow?" She questions meekly. You want to say no, to tell her you would rather miss the wedding at this point but she gives you no chance. "Please?" Her voice wavers, lips quiver. Here come the waterworks.

"I don't know about you, Y/n. But I miss mom so dearly and not having her on the day she was looking forward to is—" She sobs, covering her mouth with the frame, lips falling over your mother.

"Why not ask one of our aunts?" Your voice is hoarse. She shakes her head, pursed lips in disgust. "I'm not letting those hags get their hands on mom's jewelry. You heard them, yeah? Worms for brains all of them." She scoffs before releasing a forlorn sigh.

"Dad doesn't want to look at you because you look so much like mom today." She confesses. It would explain why he's avoided you. "You're even wearing the dress she wore for grandma's funeral." She tries to laugh yet it comes out as a shaky sob.

"Mrs. Mimi left it out for me…" You defend, she shrugs. "I told her to." She shrugs again like it was the most sane thing to do. You're not sure how to take this. On one hand it seems like psychological warfare on your father — cruel on her part even if she doesn't see it — and on the other, it's the closest you'll be to your mother.

"You look so much like her. More than I do… It would bring peace to me if you were her stand in." She breathes deeply and exhales heavily. She's trying to seem relaxed before breaking into yet another sob. The one that makes her entire body shake and fall onto your bed, clutching onto the frame that's now against her chest.

"I didn't want her to take her daily stack so you could wear it… Not because I'm that much of a heartless bitch, Y/n. I loved mom." She cries some more.

It’s rich, considering she said she wanted to wear it for her wedding. Whether you believe either version or not, doesn’t matter. Not when she hugs you in hopes it digs your heels deeper. It's stale and awkward but she revels in it, hiding in the crook of your neck as she cries harder.

"You smell like mom too." She wants to confess, but she knows it would drive you away. She'll take what she can get before you leave them all once again.

"Will you?" She voices, pulling away. "I don't w— don’t know." You don't want to. She knows it.

"Why are you like this?" The question everyone has meant to ask. "Like?" Your indifferent confusion bothers her further.

"You're like a doll that gains consciousness for a certain amount of time and then you're… a doll again. Quiet, clueless, awkward. No offense, sissy. It's just… not what I remember you as at all." There's a sigh stuck in her chest, it clamps around her lungs but it refuses to leave. There's a sincere worry in her voice that makes your own set beliefs waver but you won't break that wall just yet.

You shrug. Slow and unsure of what to say. "It worries Jaehyun more than it should." The bite in her words will go ignored, you're having a relatively nice talk with her to let any animosity return.

"You don't remember him at all." Your head shakes as confirmation. "You don't even remember the projects you did with him." You shake your head again and it makes her want to hit it for the memories to return.

"I pray you learn to trust, have faith in both of us." She hugs you again. It's warm but empty. Mayhaps it's just you, unused to the affection and love of a sibling. Of a family member and if she meant trust in Jaehyun too, then you'll give it a chance for the warm feeling brewing in your heart.

"I'll do it… I'll be mom's stand-in." You relent. She smiles and cheers like there isn't a post burial get together downstairs. Like your mother isn't gone but everyone copes differently. You cope by not being able to cry and allowing everyone to walk all over you.

On the way downstairs she rambles about what you can wear and the jewelry she had chosen. Nothing seems ideal nor your taste. It sounds redundant and weird in a sense that she's making you be so much like your mother.

Although, that's the whole point. Having your mother be at her wedding one way or another, no matter that your identity is being wiped. Like it would have been if your cousin hadn't opened her mouth about the wedding. You later found your mother had gotten that stinking infection from picking flowers with her. It's bizarre how a domino effect works.

It all muddles with the laughter of the guests, “Well to my sister! And to her lovely daughter, for juggling the stress of a wedding and grief to organize a beautiful burial for her mother.” The crowd turns to your sister as if they knew where she was immediately. Despite the streaks and puffiness she still looks ethereal and content with the recognition.

Right. Foolish of you to trust too easily.

She thanks them, hands to her heart and ignoring the side eye you give her. A look that begs her to correct them because truly she did jackshit for this funeral. This was so in character for her and you still fell. She'll cry and throw a tantrum until she gets what she wants while pretending like she did nothing for it.

She's your mother's daughter.

Unsure of when but the slight grin on your face unsettles her and it worsens when Jaehyun calls for the floor. He smiles and giggles, he's already so loved by the family.

"Thank you uncle, Carlo. Thank you as well my love for the suggestions but I do want to thank Y/n most of all for every single detail she gave into organizing this funeral." My love… so cold and unloving. It soothes you.

"For her delicacy in detail, to the meaning of the flowers, all the way down to her last outfit. Mrs. Y/l/n was a woman with a strong attitude who never took anything that did not cater to her. Therefore, knowing her, I'm sure she would love how today and the entire week was held in her honor. She would be proud."

Jaehyun's voice is so reassuring that it bothers you how much he believes it. It bothers you that everyone seems so surprised and taken aback. It bothers you that your sister seems slightly upset and weary. It bothers you that he thinks he did you a favor.

Yet it soothes you once more and your grin does not go overlooked. You're being recognized.

Guests leave shortly after. Jaehyun had made sure to kill their mood with mentions of you and for once you're openly thankful for his help despite knowing all he mentioned was thanks to him.

Mrs. Mimi and you had stayed to clean the house while your father had fallen asleep hours ago. Your sister made sure to give him his medication before she left. Despite the severity of this day's events, she was still going to celebrate her bachelorette party. Something some of your cousins and her friends threw on her behalf to rid of the sadness experienced. Of course, you don't receive an invitation.

It was just Mrs. Mimi, your father, you, and Jaehyun.

Jaehyun?

"You don't have a bachelor party or something?" You don't intend for it to come out irritated but Rek's wheezing seals the blow. "Ouch." Jaehyun laughs, attempting to pet the dog that growls at him to stay away. He frowns, furrowing his eyebrows before huffing.

"I'd rather make sure you— you're all doing good." Mrs. Mimi halts her scrubbing, sighing to herself before returning to the final dishes. "We're fine." You answer, aiding the older woman.

"Why aren't you with your sister? I thought you had left with them." "Wasn't invited."

Jaehyun stops drying the dishes you rinse, slowly turning to look at you. Musing similarly to when your sister refused to bury your mother in her daily wear jewelry.

"Mrs. Mimi, we got it from here. You should rest for tomorrow." Jaehyun diverts, upset settled in his voice despite his sweetness. The older of the three chuckles, shaking her head, handing the soap lathered cup to you. It's crowded near the sink and fairly humid but none of you would rather be anywhere else.

"Baby, I wasn't invited." It's infinitely hilarious to her. The angered looks and disgust in your faces. She's amused while Jaehyun tries to process it. "What? I asked her and she said she made sure to drop off your invite." He huffs and scoffs like a steam whistle from disbelief.

"You'll be my plus one, in that case!" It's so childlike that it makes Mrs. Mimi continue her laughter, scrubbing the last remaining plates. She shakes her head, wiping her hands on the tea towel. "No, don't worry. This week made me reflect and I'm going to visit my mother…" She sighs, nodding to herself before looking at you both.

Jaehyun wants to say something but he is not one to get between someone and their family so he relents as you do. "Sleep well then." He pouts, hugging her goodbye. She thanks him, patting his cheek to then hug you as well. It lingers and it's comforting to the point that you feel something stir in the pit of your stomach.

Her gaze travels between you and Jaehyun and you both know there are words lingering in mind that she dares not utter. Ultimately she sighs, nodding again before patting both your cheeks, struggling to get Rek out of the house due to his resistance.

Dogs are perspective and they can smell the dangers of the world miles away. He knows nothing good will brew tonight. He knew nothing good would come from you returning. Yet he still loves you more than anyone besides Mrs. Mimi. Just like your father.

Mrs. Mimi leaves with a whaling Rek trailing behind her. His cries are cautionary and she knows it. Uttering silent: "There's so much one can do, Rek." here and there. There's so many things amiss but like usual, you'll ignore anything perturbing you.

It's awkward for the remainder of the clean up. Jaehyun and you share some words but not full sentences. His glances are lesser than earlier but you can still feel them on you when he's not besides you. They're far more penetrating than your mothers and when midnight rolls around and you're both done, the only way to thank him is with a cold glass of wine on your mother's white rug.

You stumble taking a seat before him. Resting against the feet of the couch allows your muscles to relax and scream at you for all the tension you ignored this past week. It's painful to move and your lower back aches as it did when Jaehyun touched it earlier.

"Mom never allowed me to be here in fear of dirtying this rug." You smile fondly, you remember that much. "Now you're drinking red wine on it." He humors you, "Now I'm drinking red wine on it." You repeat, clinking your glasses so hard some wine does splatter onto your hands and the rug.

A rush of freight floods you but remembering where your mother was makes you relax, sharing a silent laugh with Jaehyun who's body shakes along yours with every sip. This is the most you've given him and he won't take it for granted.

"Why do you love my mom so much, Jaehyun?" You ask, the moonlight coming through the sliding doors. That beautiful blue reflecting off the pool into the living room, making you forget that the rug is not blue but white.

He swivels his glass much like you had in the morning. "I told you she's like a second mother to me. She was very nurturing and inviting when we first started dating. Always made me feel like I belonged and it reminded me of my mom." He smiles fondly, "My mom lives too far and I'm not even sure if she'll be here for the wedding." He laughs, "I hope she’s not..."

Huh?...

"Why are you even getting married on Valentine's Day anyway? Isn't it corny?" You attempt to steer the conversation astray. If you think too much about your mother and his words, you may turn into her and wreak havoc on Jaehyun. He doesn't deserve it despite your (un)justly targeted rage.

"It's my birthday." He smiles fondly, his lips stained red. "We met on Valentine's Day." He laughs quietly; his neck must ache from resting against the coffee table. You yourself don't find any humor in the statement. "I guess it was meant for you and her to get married." A horrible despondency in your voice that you regret.

"I meant you and I, Y/n."

You look up at him, confused and somewhat appalled. How corny.

"You don't have to tell me you don't remember, I get it now." He laughs, "Year seven, had just moved here and we had that awful arts class. The one with the loony teacher that spoke about health while smoking cigarettes behind the gym."

You laugh, yet you don't remember.

"Our task was to make Valentine's Day cards for our desk mates. I told you it was my birthday too and you wrote: ‘Happy lover boy day. Love was meant to be in your life.’" There's a certain fondness in his voice that makes you believe it. The detail to his description sounds cliche, something you most definitely had in mind back then.

"Now I illustrate greeting cards for a living." Your laughter fuels Jaehyun's sooner than you thought, his body was next to yours now. His neck resting on the cushion of the couch. "I know. Your dad has a great collection of them. I do too..." Truly, Jaehyun confuses you. You won't dwell on that now, it's not worth it.

Whether it's only a second or an hour, neither of you tear each other's gaze away. His eyes intent on your own, examining every speck of color and the way your pupils dilate, as his do.

"Why don't you remember anything I tell you about?" He questions sincerely, no judgment in comparison to your sister. You shrug, "I don't know. I… don't remember anything from then or you." Jaehyun doesn't respond, staring at you for an answer he won't get. "And you? What do you remember of me?"

He hesitates, sighing deeply. "You used to be much more jolly than you are now."

That is not what you expected.

"Why do you dislike your mom, Y/n?" He gets comfortable beside you. His glass knocking against your empty one. You can smell the sweet tones of wine in his breath, signaling how uncomfortably close he is.

"I… I don't know…" It's meek and raw, the child in you coming out. "I don't know why she hated me." His expression doesn't change, only do his fingers come to comb away your hair.

"Ever since I can remember she cared more for others and my sister than me. She treated my cousins like hers but me like a beggar." Your grip on the glass tightens, knocking it against Jaehyun's this time.

"One mistake and I was yelled at or she'd ignore me for weeks on end. Then I left for college when she didn't want me to and it became worse… The last time I saw her was for her and dad's anniversary two years ago and she—" The words get stuck in your throat, as if you're to cry.

"She woke me up in the middle of the night, on grandma's birthday — she had been dead for years now — to tell me she hated me… Never knew why… But, yesterday Mr. Nix confessed him and mom dated. That grandma hated him for making mom happy and it clicked. I guess, it's hereditary to hate your first born daughter… Grandma always complained about mom while doting on me."

Your brain attempts to piece it all together but your heart doesn't want to. While you've scratched the surface you don't want to delve into the implication of what it means for your future (if any) or what it means for that inner child of yours.

You just don't want to think anymore.

'Please… Please, Jaehyun, help me not think anymore.'

"You reckon?" He questions, pinky caressing your knuckles. "When I proposed to your sister, she approached me right after. She looked at me, hugged me, and looked at me again with that sunken look she has when she thinks too deep. "Are you sure?" She asked seriously, almost confused. I told her I was, that I loved her with my entire heart and she laughed, shaking her head. She said she was a nice girl but hollow at heart."

Odiously, you know what she meant. "I reaffirmed I loved her, I did… We were looking at family pictures and she kept looking over yours. She said you hated her so much that you left, it was admirable in her eyes." He sighs, more of his fingers on your skin and like a fool you let him.

"She knew you’d always be there but not your sister. You give all to one and they become hollow, shallow, and entitled. You don't give anything to the other and they'll always be there... yearning. They don't expect anything but would love something.”

"That sounds horrible." "It is." "And unfortunately she always knew what I wanted." "I fear so."

You relent, looking directly at him again. "I don't hate her. I just… dislike my mother." The confession is not shocking, it's a given known fact but it's relieving to speak out loud.

"And… I fear she saw through me all those months ago. I was not sure nor in love with your sister."

His confession is shocking. Not because you don't believe him but it was far too late for this statement. "It's fucked, I know. But after this week, I can't marry into this family."

It's too late. It's too late.

"They've indoctrinated you by now." Is the best you can muster. It's not any better than the mantra in your brain.

"The countless meals without you and your father. The conversations: soulless and mean spirited, shallow, egotistical… Everyone’s worry over the wedding rather than their grief – if any. How many people I stopped from trying to pick the locks today... Y/n, only you and your dad are worth it.” He breaths out, an ache in his voice that feels familiar. As if he had been picking at your brain to consume it himself but it's only intoxicating him.

He's so close, far more close than earlier and the wine is stronger. A part of you wants to be sane and stop this madness. Righteous in the sense to not make matters worse but his mewls when you pull at his hair to get him off drive you closer. "Don't do this to me…" You plead with no real intent or sorrow.

“Maybe you were right about the universe being cruel because it was you I was meant to see first. It was you and your mom knew all along.” He whines against your lips, tongue wetting his but you can taste the sweetness of him and that wine. That damn wine.

Your fingers clasp around his hair harder, eliciting more of those pretty sounds he makes and it takes everything in your power to not cry from how beautiful he sounds and looks. Red and needy all for you. "It was you. It has always been you." He confesses, bringing his lips against yours and it's not your will nor your bodies to push him off. Reciprocating that indulgence you've been craving.

His mouth is fairly warm, sweet and dangerous as the wine. The kiss is anything but clean. Mostly tongue and some teeth.

The semi-full glasses of wine are long forgotten, staining the rug as proof of your immorality. Jaehyun doesn't seem to remember them, you on the other hand, don't care. It's not like your mother can scold you anymore.

His hands feel significantly scalding under your dress, rugged fingers working at the clasps to remove it like a robe. Nothing is soft or tender, it's all rushed and hungry. Animalistic almost, save for the soft touches he gives you when a sliver of skin reaches him.

"You're no better than them." You kiss him, his hands on your hips, dragging you onto his lap. He's painfully hard that any move of yours makes him writhe, sinking his teeth onto your lower lip. It's fine, you deserve it and you like it. You'll take what he gives…

Jaehyun nods, tongue seeking yours. He seems to savor the sweet fruity notes of the wine as well. "I know." He hums against your lips, "I'm not denying that." A moan leaves his mouth, swallowed by you. Your hands working on his belt.

"What will you do tomorrow? What will you do standing before God and Christ, promising eternal love and faithfulness? Does that not mean anything to you? Won't shame burn your feet and eat your soul away as you walk though that arch?"

It's rhetorical, he still answers. "It won't." He kisses your jaw. "It will." Tongue laps at your neck where your sister — his fiancee — had cried earlier. "I haven't decided if I want faith to run my future." The indifference in his voice makes you laugh, one that is drowned when he nips at your skin.

Jaehyun isn't particularly soft, his hands knead at your skin and grasp harshly when on your ass. The fabric that made the dress is long tossed to the side and his shirt had been off for seconds now. Ripped from the neck, the restriction bothering him.

It's not a struggle for him to remove your bra, tossing that to the pile of clothes as well. It's his mouth that shows you he can be delicate if he wants to. The way in which his lips wrap around your swollen tit feel like healing pads. Tongue softly lapping at the aching nipples.

You can hear and feel his soft moans around each, rotating after nearly a minute of attention. His tongue is what you love most at the moment. So velvety, warm, and moist. Plush and gentle with every lick to soothe the ache his teeth cause when he wants to be funny and nip at them.

"Don't be a dick." You scold, pulling at his hair like that doesn't turn him on furthermore. He laughs against your chest, the rumble felt so deep against your sternum. "Sorry," He pouts like nothing before kissing a path up your neck to feel your lips against his again.

He wants to speak with no avail, rather you swallow any breath he takes in an attempt to utter a word. Ravishing his lips to distract him from how near you are to taking him out of his trousers. That is until he takes your hands into his, intertwining your fingers with his and leaning further into you. Hard on pressing against the thin cotton of your panties.

"You're being a tease." You joke, mimicking the pout he gave you earlier. He grins, apologizing insincerely once again while pressing into you. The harsh fabric of his trousers was stimulating.

He attempts to reward you by massaging circles on your clit over the cotton of your panties but you swat his hand away, taking his face into your hands for another hungry kiss. He stifles his chuckle, letting you explore his mouth with your tongue. As a reward, he connects his with yours, allowing both muscles to enjoy the ecstasy.

Your hips take his distraction as an opportunity to swivel against him. Eliciting those pretty sounds you love to consume and forcing you to go faster, a wet spot already seeping into any remaining fabric. Jaehyun doesn't take lightly to this, pushing your panties away to let his fingers roam. It's stimulating and overly enjoyable.

How easy the digits slip in, stretching you deliciously to then piston at a set speed that has you hunching over, begging to feel his mouth on yours again. Jaehyun enjoys it, a cheeky grin on his face when your eyes meet his and as a reward, he buries his fingers deeper, curling and thrusting fast enough to make you wail from pleasure you haven't allowed yourself in god knows how long.

It's irritating to be the only one like this. Triumphantly, you finally manage to sneak him out of his trousers, the fabric had been so restraining that he lets out a guttural moan when freed. Throwing his head back onto the couch and wincing with every squeeze and jerk of your soft hand on his sensitive cock.

It's your turn to taunt him. Sneering and laughing quietly when he writhes and cries about how good your hand feels, how he'd love to feel your mouth over it or have you impaled on him. Jaehyun is far weaker than he lets out – nothing new to you.

Was it not for your own desperation and need for release, you'd elongate the sadism. Let him cry for longer about how your hand is not enough despite the pool of pre-come already soiling your hand and his cock.

There's no need for lube, not when his fingers slip out of you and the sea of fluids stain his trousers before pushing them fully off. His pre-come doesn't fall short of a stimulant, so much for such a simple tact. There's nothing grand about this transaction but your bodies know what they want and each other has been written in the stars.

"I don't have a condom…" He pants, a faux attempt at letting morality stop you both. "I'm clean. Abstaining, actually…" You confess, it had not been long since you last had gone to the gyno anyway. Jaehyun's fingers are soft against your lips, his chest slowing down as he hears the meekness in your voice.

"We never have sex without protection and… the last time was months ago." The vulnerability in his voice makes you trust him. Nodding as a response before kissing him again, guiding him for penetration.

He toys with you for seconds, letting his tip graze your folds and slap your clit playfully. Reveling in the hisses you let out. He's so greedy to the point that this isn't enough.

Sheathing himself within you to acquire the pleasure he desires most. It had been so long since you felt this way. The feeling of fullness and completeness. Jaehyun does not fall short with the whines, rather he buries them in your hair, shaking underneath you.

"You feel so good…" He mentions, leaving open mouth kisses along your shoulder while attempting to thrust. His hands reach behind you for stability while you shift in his lap to get comfortable. When he finds a pace you both can work with, Jaehyun throws a thin piece of fabric over you both.

It dawns upon you much later when the tulle feels stuffy and the lacing scratchy that it's your sister's veil. You know it should bother you more, that you should question why it's still here and not with her when the wedding is tomorrow but you don't find it in yourself to care. Not when he's looking at you with an adoration you've never seen and a smile aimed at you and only you.

"You look beautiful." He whispers against your lips, tongue prodding to enter your mouth in one of many kisses he gives you. It's enough to evacuate your head of all these nuisances, focusing on the feel of his cock fucking into you at a steady pace, hips gyrating to allow stimulation to your clit from his pelvic bone.

Whether it's the lack of experience, allowing your body to feel the delicacy of immorality, or he's simply that good, the words cascade from your lips like a mantra. "I'm so close… Fuck, so very closer." You whine against his lips, eyes screwing shut like you're about to cry while holding onto his own shoulders for support.

He smiles, easily wiped away when your hips pick up the pace. Moving up and down his shaft, gyrating as well to follow his lead. From feeling delicious, now he feels like he could come if you did this once more. "I need to feel you coming around me… Y/n, do that for me, please." Jaehyun curses incoherently, his hands holding onto your waist, kneading at the skin but his hands can't stay steady. Rummaging upwards to take your tits into them.

They're softer than earlier. Rubbing circular motions and squeezing when they feel too hot under his touch. Scalding. Thankfully his hips don't fall short in pace. It quickens, his thighs harden under you and it feels like he could give out any second. The sounds he makes surely say so.

"I can feel you ready to explode, Jaehyun." You taunt, seeking his lips and pulling away when he wants to give what you've asked for. His whines turn petulant by the third time. Hand coming off your tit to take a hold of your neck and pulling you in for a kiss. The warmth is gone and your nipple perks from the cold and his determination.

"Let me explode… please…" Jaehyun wanted to be more straightforward yet it came out like begging. It's not like you mind, not when you feel yourself three thrusts away from finishing. He drags it on when you don't give him what you want. Thrusting slowly upwards to bury himself completely and pull away to leave the gaping to turn cold before he's back to bottoming out.

He swats your hand away when he feels your nimble fingers attempt to rub at your clit, hissing disapprovingly. "Is my cock not enough?" He scolds, frowning when you shake your head, teasing. His thrusts turn harsher by then, forcing you to throw your head back in pleasure.

"You're too easy to tease." You jest, taking his hands to perch upon your breasts again. "Don't be mean." He winces, bucking upwards at a faster pace. His tongue not missing a single crevice of your neck before nipping the skin. His own form of protest to your mocking.

You giggle at his words, pressing to get his lips near yours. "Make me come, then. Finish me off for good…" Hushedly and deeper, looking directly into his eyes while processing the words. Jaehyun looks at you with every thrust. They're harder by the point you're done speaking and his eyes never peel from yours.

This is far more intimate than any of you had expected or wanted. The feeling of his cock fitting snugly within you is felt ten times more and the friction feels like your nerves are going to burst if he keeps going.

It causes your legs to spasm, arms flailing and weak around him. Every sense overstimulated when you feel him at the hilt, pressing harshly one thrust at a time.

"Jaehyun, Jaehyun, Jaehyun…"

You cry out, pleasure flooding your entire body that it manifests itself into tears. Louder and harder when you feel him release his warm fluid within your walls. It's a scorching feeling, deliciously overstimulated. Your body is weak and frail against his own, every neuron tingling that it stresses and overwhelms you beyond belief.

But you're crying. You're crying and crying, finally after a week of not being able to let it all out. It's a relief and you can fully understand why your sister is less sad about the reality of your lives.

"Y/n… Y/n! Y/n, are you alright?"

The sincere worry in Jaehyun's voice does not fall short to make you weep even more. You muster a nod, holding his face in your hands while pushing off your sister's veil. It's soiled in sweat, tears, and the smell of sex but it doesn't matter to you right now.

"Are you alright?" He asks again, this time peppering kisses all over your face, holding your body against his for comfort. It's sticky and messy, the sweat reminding you that no matter it being winter, humidity and physical activities don't mix well.

And while your crying doesn't seize, you nod, kissing him instead. "Happy lover boy day. Love was meant to be in your life." You mutter against his lips, your salty tears present with every kiss. Jaehyun sighs, rubbing soothingly against your exposed back before holding you flush against him.

"Than—" and before he can thank you, those same portraits you've been chipping paint from remind you of where you are and who the house belongs to.

It's a horrible crash, the form in which your mother's largest portrait slides down the stairs. Banging against the banisters and breaking the frame into pieces. Wood chips ripping the canvas into large chunks. The last tumble allows it to sway mere feet away from you, glaring for the disgrace you've just committed.

Against your parents, against this sacred home, against the sanctity of a veil, and against your sister. Even in death, your mother's watchful eyes will remain to belittle and judge you.

"Thank you." Jaehyun finishes off, turning your gaze to him and taking your lips into a thankful kiss. Your mother won’t continue to haunt you.

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thoughtfulfiction · 6 months ago

Text

The P Word

Author’s Note: Two fics in two days?

In 2013, Joe sent a dm to a recruiting analyst for scout.com, asking which camps he should attend because he was flying under the national radar.

Most four star recruits get about 20 college offers. He had 12.

At Ohio State he sat on the bench for three years, only gaining attention as a scout team player who would later have to graduate in three years just so he could transfer and get some playing time elsewhere.

That same scout team player would become the best player in college football and a Heisman trophy winner and the number one pick in the 2020 NFL Draft. A few years after that fateful private message to Dave Burk.

Robin Burrow had been there the entire time. Through every shining moment and the times that seemed rather dark. She drove two hours to do his laundry just to make sure he was physically and mentally healthy when he lived in Columbus, has attended every game since he began playing sports, made him snickers salad when he tore his ACL…and when he tore his scapholunate ligament in his wrist. All in all, she’s been a constant presence in the midst of all of the mayhem. To be frank, there’s nowhere else in the world she’d rather be than between him and anything that could possibly serve to harm him or cause him any pain, no matter how old he is.

That included protecting him from himself.

The last few months had been filled with joy. After the news of his engagement, the wedding planning process had been smooth. You and Robin along with your mom, had gone to several appointments together and Joe had even added his input in most of the details without you feeling like you had to twist his arm and force him to participate.

You were now in the home stretch of the most important day of your lives. Less than two months from now you’d be saying “I do” to the love of your life. And Robin had taken her role as future mother in-law very seriously. You knew that Joe was a mama’s boy, his brothers much older than him with their own mom, and it was clear to anyone with eyes that he was Robin’s pride and joy. But not in a creepy way that would get them to star in a TLC show. It was just very evident that she was proud of him and his achievements and that she didn’t mess around when it came down to business.

After one of your dress fittings, she pulled you aside. “There’s one quick thing I need to mention to you. You’ll be getting a formal document in the mail in the next few days. Nothing huge, just a formality that Peter and the team drafted up for you to sign. I hate the word prenup but that’s essentially what this is.” She said in a matter of fact way. “We just need to make sure to dot our i’s and cross our t’s if that makes sense. Get the boring stuff out of the way so that we can focus on showering you and Joey with our love on your special day.”

“No that makes complete sense, just send it over and I’ll sign whatever you need me to. Thank you Robin seriously, for everything. You’ve made planning this entire thing a breeze.”

She shakes her head with a genuine smile, giving you a warm hug. “This has been an honor, I’m so happy for the both of you sweetie. I’ll see you in a few days for brunch at your house? The kids are so excited they won’t stop talking about it.”

“Yes absolutely, I can’t wait either it’s been so long since we’ve gotten both families together it’ll be really fun.”

There weren’t many opportunities for your family to interact with Joe’s and vice versa, unless everyone met at a football game but that wasn’t exactly quality family bonding. That felt more like a collective screaming match where the adults pregamed with beer and the kids wore his jersey. Most of them didn’t really know what was going on in the actual game. So you and Joe were going to host both sets of parents, all of your siblings and their kids in order for everyone to really spend time together before the wedding.

A few days later, you were finalizing the menu with the catering company when Joe came home.

“It’s gonna be like Cheaper by the Dozen in here tomorrow,” he notes, grabbing a Body Armour from the fridge. “Are we sure we’re ready for this?”

“We kinda have to be. Should we do smoked salmon or shrimp crostinis?” You held up one of each and let him examine them. He snagged the salmon one first and took a bite then did the same with the shrimp.

“Definitely the salmon. What time is everyone getting here?” The catering people jot down their last notes and head out the door after you and Joe thanked them.

You could tell he was going to need time to mentally prepare in case he got overstimulated. “They’ll be here at 1pm, so you can probably get an early workout in and take a nap afterwards,” walking over to him on the other side of the counter, holding his face in your hands. “I know you get cranky when you’re tired and Uncle Joe needs to be at his best tomorrow because the kids will need a QB for their flag football game.”

He wraps his arms around your waist, sticking out his lips that are begging to be kissed. You happily grant his wish, pressing your lips against his, giving him a quick smooch. He asks for a few more, about to get lost in a full make out session when a stack of papers on the counter catch his eye. Joe pulls back so abruptly that your face smacks against his chest.

“Sorry baby,” he cradles your head, reaching around you to grab the piece of paper that’s on top. You take that as your cue to go after his second apology for nearly giving you a concussion. That chest is a brick wall.

The more he skims the words, the tighter his grip gets on the little sheet and the confused look on his face deepens. “Um…what is this?”

“What is what?” You give him a look that matches his energy.

He holds up the paper. “This. What is this? Where did you get it from?”

You look around the room to make sure you aren’t getting Punk’d. “Wait—are you being serious?”

“Do I look like I’m joking,” it wasn’t a question. He’s legitimately starting to look upset. “Who gave this to you?”

“Joe,” you let out a dry chuckle, “your mom did. Said it was a formality and that I should sign it and give it to her so she can hand it off to Peter so your lawyers can process it.” When your fiancé continues to stand there motionless in the middle of the room, that’s when it hits you. “Did—did you not know about this?”

He usually has something to say about everything, so watching him silently shake his head is a little scary. Joe places the first page of the prenuptial agreement on the table with a heavy sigh, visibly trying to compose himself. The man had the patience of a saint, known to have blow ups on the field but that was Football Joe. Off the field Joe was calm and rarely ever let things get to him. You’d probably only heard him yell twice in the entire time you’ve been together. And now he was dead quiet. You didn’t know what to do with that.

“Joe, your mom is just trying to protect you. Get this out of the way so that we can—”

“Please don’t try to defend her right now,” his tone was laced with venom, a seething anger you hadn’t seen before and weren’t too keen on getting familiar with. “I don’t like that this was just drafted, printed and handed to you without my permission. She and Peter shouldn’t have done that. And my mom definitely shouldn’t have ambushed you with this.”

Now he was being dramatic. “Robin didn’t ambush me! She told me a couple days ago and I thought you knew so I didn’t mention it.”

“I would never do that to you,” he says with a pain in his voice that makes your chest clench. “WE, you and I should be talking about this. Not my mom and Peter. Jesus.” He rested his arms on the counter, running his hands through his hair.

You hated seeing him get worked up like this, crossing the room again to place a comforting hand on his back. “Why don’t you talk to her tomorrow, I’m sure she didn’t mean to upset you. She most likely just thought she would do this for you so you didn’t need to worry about it.”

“That’s the thing, this isn’t something she should be doing for me. We’re getting married. You’re going to be my wife. There’s no reason she needs to be handing you documents on my behalf like you’re some fucking stranger. I don’t care how ‘busy’ I am. You come first.” You can feel the tension in his muscles even when he stands up to his normal height. He’s really trying to keep it together, giving you an empty kiss on the cheek before heading into his office to cool off. An hour later you head up to check on him, assuming he has his headphones on and can’t hear you, you find that the door is locked.

Tomorrow’s brunch is going to be very interesting to say the least.

Joe surprised you by being in bed by the time you came upstairs to get ready to go to sleep. You thought for sure he’d be on a run to clear his mind. As soon as you climbed in next to him he put his phone away, wrapping his arms around you and giving your body a squeeze.

Whatever private meeting he had with himself must have done the trick because he was actually letting you be the big spoon for once. His touch was soft and intentional, the previously icy aura was liquified and only warm and cuddly Joe remained. “Are you okay?” You asked him and he nodded without looking at you. He just interlocked your fingers in his before sitting up.

“Switch me.” You knew the little spoon wouldn’t last long. “That’s better,” he sighs kissing your head, feeling at home with your arm draped across his waist.

After a few seconds of silence he mutters, “I’m so sorry this is happening. Are you sure you want to sign up for a lifetime of this?”

You look up to meet Joe’s gaze to see if he’s trying to be funny. “A lifetime of you? I can’t think of anything I would want more. The rest of it is just extra, the good and the bad. As long as I have you I don’t care.”

His shoulders sag once again in relief, “good.” Joe peppers a few kisses on your neck, making his way up to your jaw, taking his sweet time until he got to your lips. A joyous hum leaves his mouth as the kiss grows deeper, each swipe of his tongue against yours makes you feel dizzy…love drunk. Nothing compares to the way that Joe kisses you, sensually careful but hungry at the same time, almost as if this is the last thing he’ll ever get to do. This kiss is different, it’s a promise to always protect you, to never let the outside noise sway what his heart knows is true. He’s found the one person in the world that consistently makes his heart sing and no one—not even his mom—will have the final say. And he was going to make that very clear.

When Joe sluggishly came down the stairs the next day rubbing his eyes after his nap wearing a hoodie and cargo pants, you were just thankful he wasn’t in sweats.

“Hi there Sleeping Beauty, I’ve already gotten a few texts that most of them are about five minutes out.”

“Great,” he grunts, parking himself on the couch, “I’m starving,” he scoots around trying to subtly adjust himself.

Joe stares at you , running his hand down your thigh. “Hungry…for food right?” You give him a pointed look.

“Yeah, yeah for food. What did you think I meant?” He laughs as he catches the pillow you launch his way and scoot far enough away that he can’t grab you.

“Don’t. Today really needs to be a stress free day. Can you promise you will be nice and not yell at your mother?” And with that statement he is no longer in the mood.

“I will not yell at my mom,” he crosses his arms over his chest with a scowl only like a youngest child could. “Can’t promise I’ll be nice.”

Before you can negotiate any further the doorbell rings and your first guests arrive. Nieces and nephews come running in, suffocating you with hugs and the youngest one tugging at Joe’s legs demanding to be picked up. Less than 30 minutes later the entire backyard is filled with kids playing tag, drinking juice boxes while the adults enjoyed the appetizer spread.

Joe wasn’t making it blatantly obvious that he was mad but he wasn’t exactly hiding it either. He kept the greeting with his parents short, keeping his distance throughout the afternoon focused on entertaining the kids and playing the perfect host.

“I just realized I never asked,” Codie, one of Joe’s sister in laws speaks up. “Where are you two going for your honeymoon?”

“Bora Bora! I can’t wait,” you respond, topping off her wine glass.

His brother Dan’s ears perk up. “We were thinking about going there for an anniversary trip. Are you guys staying in a resort?”

Joe shakes his head, “I got us an underwater bungalow. The view is supposed to be insane.”

“Yeah I bet,” your dad notes.

“Take lots of pictures,” his dad adds in.

He waits for a second taking a mental note of his mom’s silence throughout the conversation, nudging you to make sure that you’re on the same page. By the time everyone was gone you needed something stronger than wine. Robin and your mom insisted on helping you clean up but you let them know that the caterers were coming back to grab everything. As you bid your family goodbye and thanked them for coming, your mom whispered in your ear, letting you know that the man inside was a keeper. You responded by telling her you intended on keeping him.

Once the door was fully closed you could breathe a sigh of relief…until you heard Robin ask Joe what was going on with him.

Here we go.

Joe didn’t respond. He just went up to his office and came right back down with the prenup in hand. “Care to explain?”

“Oh,” she looked rather unfazed, “Peter and I thought that—”

“And that’s where you went wrong,” Joe interrupts, voice surprisingly even. “You and Peter don’t get to ‘think.’ You don’t get to do whatever you ‘think’ I need. You have to ask me.”

You can tell she’s visibly taken aback at how this has gone. “It was not at all my intention to go behind your back. You’re just very busy and now with wedding planning and everything else, it just made sense to get it put into place so you’d have one less thing to worry about.”

“Mom, I get that. But you crossed the line here. I’m an adult who would’ve liked to have a mature conversation with the person I am going to marry about a topic that is extremely uncomfortable for everyone. It is not your job to play the middle man here. There is no middle man. This is between y/n and I.”

The tension in the air was getting a little too thick for your liking. You stood next to Joe, running your hand down his arm trying to diffuse the situation as much as possible. “Okay I think you’ve made your point. Robin, I am not at all upset with you, this can all be resolved rather—”

“I am upset with you mom. There was no reason to hand over that document without at least giving me a phone call,” Joe counters, starting to stand in front of you a bit like he’s physically shielding you from her.

“Now Joey I don’t think your mom meant any harm,” Joe’s dad speaks up seeing his wife almost in tears. “Why don’t we all just take a breather here.”

You nod in agreement.

“I’m so sorry, to both of you. In hindsight that wasn’t the best way to go about it but like you said this is uncomfortable. I thought keeping it casual would remove some of that awkwardness and I just made it worse. I really am sorry.”

Joe still seemed unmoved but you really didn’t think she needed to apologize this much. He just told her he appreciated the sentiments but that she needs to recognize that’s he’s an adult, telling them goodnight and immediately heading upstairs.

You’re left to walk them out alone, giving them both hugs goodbye. “Honey I’m so sorry,” Robin states again, “I never want you to think that I don’t love you or that I was intentionally going behind Joe’s back. I was just making sure we have all of our bases covered so we aren’t sweating the small stuff on your big day. I hope you can forgive me.”

“You’re totally fine, I understand. And I agree. I think he just got a little freaked out at the reminder that his life is abnormal. He wants things to be simple and sometimes they just aren’t. That probably stressed him out a little. Or a lot.”

It feels good to leave their tense interaction with her smiling. Even though it didn’t reach her eyes like usual, it was still a small step forward.

“How can you not be upset about this?” Joe asks after brushing his teeth.

You focused on what was going on at your sink, taking your time to complete your skincare routine. “Because I see where both of you are coming from. You have every right to be angry at her for doing this behind your back. But at the same time I understand why she feels like she should get a jump on protecting your assets.”

“Protect my assets…” he scoffs, “…from you? What’s mine is going to be yours.” He hands you a towel after you wash your face, having memorized the steps at this point.

“Yeah ok, legally. But your accomplishments and accolades are yours. That’s how you got here and your mom saw all the blood, sweat and tears that went into you being in the position you are today. She may have overstepped a little but you’re still her baby at the end of the day and sometimes it’s hard for them to recognize that they have adult children who are fully capable of making their own decisions.” He grabs the moisturizer off the counter and places it in your hand as you laugh, whispering thank you. “My mom has done the same to me, not to this extent obviously because we’re in completely different tax brackets but—they just want to make sure we’re okay no matter what.”

Joe leans against the counter, deep in thought. Growing up with his dad coaching it was usually just the two of them, she drove him to basketball and football practices and tournaments, took him to school and worked the entire day at school and came home still ready to dedicate all of her time to him if he asked. “I was too harsh wasn’t I?”

“A teeny bit? Maybe? I do thoroughly appreciate you looking out for me though. Going to bat for me against your mom of all people.”

He shrugs, giving you a hug from behind, resting his chin on your head. “She protects me so somebody’s gotta protect you. That’s what I’m signing up for and I promise to always take that job very seriously.” I should put that in my vows, he tells himself. He leans over a little more to press a kiss against your temple.

“Is that a promise?”

“That is a promise,” he holds out a pinky, making you gasp as you turn around.

“Isn’t a pinky shake you and Ja’Marr’s thing?”

Joe looks at you sheepishly, smiling so wide his eyes crinkle. “I won’t tell him if you don’t.”

You lock your pinky in his, kissing the smile off of his face.

That night before he went to sleep, he texted his mom telling her that he loved her. You gave them privacy when she came over the next day, smiling and hugging it out so you assumed everything went well. You hoped to have open communication with your kids even as adults one day, but did not envy the journey that your parents were constantly navigating. This once tiny person you created and had to make sure to teach them everything was now not only getting married and had established their own life but in Joe’s case everything was heightened. She’s been there through her son being the overlooked player who Urban Meyer said threw like a girl to now if he so much as has a paper cut an entire city of people, a whole fanbase is worried and asking for minute by minute updates on his condition. You couldn’t imagine the whirlwind that must be.

So you were going to sign that prenup whether Joe liked it or not.

“We need to decide on bridal party gifts,” Joe suggests a week later. “I was thinking about getting the guys customized golf carts. They could be delivered straight to their houses after the wedding or I could have them dropped off the day we get there and they can drive around the property whenever they need to get somewhere? What sounds better?”

“It sounds like you’ve had this very specific plan and just couldn’t wait to make your big announcement. How am I supposed to compete with that?”

Joe laughs, grabbing his water. “You can give them all Cartier bracelets, have the wedding date engraved on the inside. That’d be pretty cool.”

Cool and expensive. “Don’t do that, I can actually hear what you’re thinking.” Curse him for knowing you so well. “We’re only gonna do this once, might as well do it right. Make it a great experience for everyone we love.”

“Fine. You’re right. But we are not doing an ice sculpture then.” He gives you a blank stare but says nothing, both of you know that it’ll be coming back up sooner rather than later. “There is something else we need to talk about though.”

He rolls his eyes, deciding this is the perfect time to get up and put his plate in the sink, like you can’t just follow him. “We really don’t have to do this.”

“Oh but we do. Joe seriously we’re gonna have to figure this out. It’s important.”

He lets out a deep breath, looking up at the ceiling before putting his eyes back on you. “I’m just uncomfortable with any conversation that plans a breakup. I don’t ever want to breakup.”

“Then let’s not breakup and we won’t even have to worry about any of this. We’ll discuss the details, I’ll sign it and we’ll never talk about it ever again. Deal?”

You place a hand on his cheek and he kisses the inside of your hand before he speaks. “Deal. I can’t wait to marry you. Even got a countdown on my phone.”

“That’s probably the single most adorable thing you’ve ever said.” He pulls his phone out to show you a countdown app with a timer down to the hour the ceremony is supposed to start. A picture from your engagement shoot is set as the background. “I can’t wait either. I love you, so much.”

“I love you more.”

#Joe burrow #Joe burrow x reader #Joe burrow imagine #Joe burrow fic

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silens-oro · 3 months ago

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Patron Saint, Are We All Lost Like You?

Not all fics have adult content, but this blog is 18+. Dr. Jack Abbot x f!Reader (slow burn) Shared grief/Comfort

The Pitt Playlist located here Masterlist

Pass Slowly Series Retreat to Safer Waters

Synopsis: Shared grief between Jack and his upstairs neighbor. Word Count: ~1,500 Content Warning: Sibling death; Partner death; grief; mass shooting mention; cigarette smoking; comfort A/N: I was listening to (*Fin) by Anberlin when I wrote this oop. Jack's wife's name is Janine in this. This is the first piece in my Pass Slowly series of one shots for Mr. Jack Abbot set within the bubble he's made with his neighbor. Please comment and reblog :)

“You’re not a smoker.” Jack’s voice cut through your devastating silence as he approached the stoop you were sitting on that led up to your shared four-story condo building.

“You’re back early.” Absentmindedly flicking the growing ashes to the side, you bit your lip in thought.

“It was my day off.” You nodded when he shrugged as you took a deep inhale of the dwindling cigarette, willing the nicotine into taking the edge off just a little bit. Of course Jack had gone to work after what happened. He had the ability to help and save those who couldn’t help or save themselves, so of course he’d leave the comfort of his home to go.That’s who Jack was, through and through.

The exhale of smoke drifted between you and Jack, creating a temporary wall that he watched pass slowly. He looked through you once it was gone, studying you -assessing you, trying to figure out what the hell was going on.

Jack could see that you were very visibly upset. Your eyes were puffy and bloodshot, and they held a thousand yard gaze straight forward, but they didn’t actually see anything in front of you. It wasn’t a complete shot in the dark to assume that whatever happened was connected to PittFest -in fact, he’d bet on it.

“Don’t put it out on my account.” Jack said with an inquisitive brow raised and a raise of his hand. You scoffed as you stubbed the cherry out next to your feet, sniffling as you pocketed the butt.

“I haven’t smoked in seven years,” Your voice was dry and raspy. “-my sister is the one who got me to quit. She got me to do yoga instead.” You chuckled emptily, “I needed mind and body wellness instead of a nicotine habit.” You glanced briefly at Jack from the corner of your eye, biting your bottom lip nervously. “That’s actually how I formally met Janine, you know?” The corner of Jack’s mouth lifted at the mention of his late wife. “We went to the same yoga studio. My sister introduced us and we learned that we lived in the same building, just two floors apart.” You brought your elbows up to sit on your thighs and rested your chin on your clasped hands, still staring forward. “I don’t need to pick a smoking habit back up now. She’d be pissed if she knew I…” You trailed off, letting your words dissipate into the night sky as you bit your bottom lip to stop it from quivering. Jack leaned over towards you a bit before he spoke.

“You know I’ll listen if you want to talk about whatever’s going on?” He grunted as he lowered himself to sit next to you. He started adjusting the straps to his prosthetic to give it a breather. “Has to be bad to make you fall off the wagon,” Jack’s voice was low, gravelly, as if speaking any louder would break the spell that surrounded them on their quiet street. He tried to get you to look at him, to hold eye contact in a way that was very uniquely him, but you just couldn’t do it.

Not now.

Every interaction you had with Jack, you understood more and more why Janine loved him with everything she had. Jack had his quirks, his mannerisms that were uniquely his, but he was a genuinely good man. When he looked at a person, he made sure they knew they were seen, and while he wasn’t the most eloquent speaker, he had a way of speaking to people like they mattered. That intense eye contact that you usually admired wasn’t something that you opened yourself to right now.

Jack was always polite when Janine had you over for dinners and he happened to be off work. His humor was dry and quick, and you picked up on it immediately much to his delight. Janine had called you both Tom & Jerry at times when you’d get into a friendly teasing match, wit and humor matching head on in a collision that drove her nuts at times.

Thinking of Janine made your heart hurt for Jack and for yourself. She was a light in a very dark world and if you were lucky enough to know her, your life was made all the better for it. She was a kind, compassionate, caring, genuine person. There was an immediate friendship between the two of you even with a fifteen year age gap between you, and the fact that you both lived in the same building made getting wine drunk on a Wednesday night while Jack was at work even more convenient since you only needed to take the elevator up two floors to get home.

Janine was beautiful, funny, witty, and an absolute spitfire. She was everything that complemented Jack as a person when you saw them interact with each other in the comfort of their own home. The meals she made were incredible, the advice she gave was golden, and losing her was like losing your best friend of three years. Her untimely passing threw your world off kilter -and it was completely earth shattering for Jack. He lost a massive piece of him, the one person who truly got him, and the one piece that kept his head above water for the last fifteen years.

You were one of the few constants left in his life when he bravely decided to pick up the pieces. Jack threw himself into his work and switched his shifts to nights exclusively. You didn’t need to ask why. Everything in that condo surely haunted him in ways you couldn’t begin to imagine and an empty bed at night would be enough to do anyone’s head in. In time, he got back into volunteering at the VA and he stayed on his regular therapy sessions, even when Janine had first passed.

You made sure to check on him frequently within that first year. It wasn’t always direct, but he knew you were around; that you cared and were patiently waiting for when he felt ready to reach out -if he needed to. You made it a habit to cook extra portions of whatever you were eating. You packed them up and stuck them in a cooler bag with an ice pack to leave at his door when you went to work in the mornings so he’d have something to eat when he got home from work and a lunch for the next day. It was a small offering on your part, but it made a world of difference to Jack. Every night when you’d return from work, that same cooler bag would be hanging from the handle of the door to your condo with your washed Tupperware and a post-it note inside that simply said ‘thank you’.

“I…” The words died on your tongue. They tasted bitter like the bile you had to choke back as your father’s words clung to your mind, repeating over and over. She’s gone. You opened your palms to cover your eyes. “I’m…If I say it out loud,” Jack’s hand rubbed gentle, soothing circles between your shoulder blades when your voice cracked. “Then it’s real. And I can't handle that right now.”

“What happened?” He tried to coax out of you, but you shook your head as a soft sob fell from your lips.

“My sister is...gone.” Your arms gave out and you let your head fall between your knees. Jack blinked a few times, his brows furrowing together in thought. "It was instant and she-" You broke down, not able to finish your sentence.

“-Christ, come here. I've got you,” Jack breathed out, pulling you to his chest so he could wrap his arms around you. “PittFest?” He murmured with his cheek pressed against the top of your head. Jack tried to rack his brain for every face he saw go through the ED after the shooting started and he couldn’t come up with her face. Only six people were in their makeshift morgue and your sister wasn't one of them. That means she didn't leave the festival grounds. It was instant, Jack winced. That thought alone made the frown tug deeper at his mouth.

“I was supposed to go with her today.” You confessed. “I was supposed to be with her and I...I got stuck at the office and told her to take her friend instead. Maybe if I had been there it would’ve-”

“Don’t do that.” Jack’s usually easy-going voice was sharp, his arms tightened around you. “Don’t take yourself to that place. Believe me, that isn’t a hole you want to crawl out of. Once you go there-”

“-Where else am I supposed to go?” You asked desperately, pulling yourself from his hold, but finally looking at him -seeing him. Jack’s heart shattered. Your glassy eyes begged him for an answer, for comfort, anything he could give. He brought a hand up and tentatively cupped your cheek. As if on instinct, your cheek searched for his hold, leaning into the warmth of his palm. Your hand moved up to rest on his forearm, the flexing of the muscles and cords that made him cemented you to reality. Jack bit his lip briefly, choosing his answer carefully.

“You go where they’d want you to go.”

Please comment and reblog :)

#the pitt #jack abbot #jack abbot x reader #jack abbot imagine #dr jack abbot #shawn hatosy #x reader #grief fic #slow burn #the pitt imagine #the pitt fanfiction #the pitt fic

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mirrorcatcreditcard · 7 months ago

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Take I haven't seen in the fandom yet:

Luka doesn't want to be freed.

"Now, MirrorCatCreditcard," you may say, "that's nonsense. Any human would want freedom from that system."

If you're thinking I'm gonna convince you that Luka doesn't know he wants freedom yet, you're wrong. I'm here to talk about indoctrination/conditioning, grooming/emotional manipulation, my own experience with those topics, and how all of the above connects with Luka as a character. If a deep dive like this is too much for you, please tap out for your own sake.

Luka's life was planned before he even existed. There has never ever been an alternative option. There is no life for Luka as anything but what Herperu chose. Everything in his life has been planned to have him be the perfect pet human idol. That is what he must be.

Fandom, I don't think most of you actually understand this and have dissected what this means (shout-out to the Luka stans who are getting there/have guessed similar things). These words we know have alternatives and are not set in stone are Luka's "gravity makes rain fall to the earth" and "water makes things wet." They are facts so deeply ingrained within him that even if shown the contrary he remarks that the person showing them is just disillusioned.

Take his commentary on Mizi and Hyun-A in the art book. He looks down on Mizi for not being able to control any of her emotions. How does he talk about Hyun-A? He has her at 70% affection yet shows a patronizing attitude—she's the one in denial at reality.

Now, how did we get here? How is a human so "delusional" and set in the control?

He's been conditioned.

Some of you don't know what I mean by this from experience and/or research, and count yourself fortunate that you don't. I pray you never experience such things firsthand. Don't worry about ignorance. Familiar or not, I will explain.

When you are surrounded by only one truth and reality, that is the way you interpret life. If a parent tells a child "the moon goes to sleep during the day," until the child learns otherwise, that's what they believe. Now take that child-like belief and add some toxic environments to the mix. With time, any other kid would learn that the earth rotates from their peers or adults around them. But if the creatures around them all say and believe the same thing "the moon goes to sleep during the day," then that is what the child continues to believe. Years of that same thing being the only truth make that false knowledge into a fact in the person's head, and everything that supports that fact is taken as truth or on the right path to truth.

"This is kinda silly though," you guys are no doubt murmuring, "All of this is a hypothetical. Give us something that makes sense or that someone could actually see happen in our society."

I'll give you my own experience then. My parents taught me that God is real. My parents taught me that I will be damned I do not follow the commandments of the scriptures. I didn't need to worry though. As long as I was obedient to the God who loved me and wanted what was best, I would be saved despite being born an awful sinful human. I was homeschooled, only interacted with people of similar beliefs, and taught that people too different from me in ideology or with radical beliefs against my own were trying to harm me and my family. I believed the people who raised me because why would people who love me lie to me? My task was simple. I needed to obey God and love everyone, especially them. Love meant giving up my entire being and living only as servant and sacrifice. After all, being selfless to the utmost was the greatest form of love.

Let's go back to Luka. His guardian, Herperu, when questioned about any surprises while training Luka, stated not only that he was the one who endured the "tough moments" but also that "(Luka) owes his success to me, and naturally, he should be grateful." This sentiment is echoed by Luka in his interview (shown on Patreon). My god, it's giving parents with disabled kids who brag on social media about how much trouble their kid is and how much they do for them. Sickening. This shows exactly what environment Luka has lived in though.

When you are manipulated into having something as your reality, everything else is fiction and delusion.

Let's review what exactly is Luka's reality.

Heperu is the one suffering if Luka has any difficulties being obedient.

Gratitude is what Herperu is owed because he goes through so much trouble to make Luka a star.

Love/care is shown by owning another's autonomy.

Emotions and bodily reactions exist, sure, but someone should be able to control them; and if they can't, someone should control those reactions for them.

Segyein are superior and the good ones for dealing with humans. Humans must be disciplined and shaped to how an segyein wants it to act to be considered deserving of this goodness.

(Luka)'s perfection is defined by his guardian.

Luka's life is directly connected to being the perfect performer. His guardian praises his abilities with the statement that no other pet human will ever be as perfect as him yet leaves an underlying threat saying that it will be no good if a pet is not trained properly. This has probably been mentally (if not physically) beaten into Luka's mind: his greatness doesn't stop him from being able to be disposed of. The human instinct to want to live has been explained to him as Heperu's wish for him to live and that has been further distorted as a duty to live for the stage he has been placed on.

Luka believes fully that there is a debt in play here. In his interview, he mentions repaying love. He thinks the relationship between fan and idol is completely normal, encouraged, and healthy. Performance is the most important thing. Being where he is is a privilege.

There's a chain here:

Heperu indoctrinated Luka into believing what he says is all true.

The guardian manipulated him easily to do what he wanted with his body and mind.

The years have been spent constantly conditioning Luka to be the god who encapsulated fantasies for the audience.

He is continually being groomed to exist for the entertainment and enjoyment of segyein.

Circle back to my first point of this post. Luka does not want to be freed. He doesn't know what freedom actually is. He sees freedom as either foolish denials of reality (and doesn't consider that actual freedom) or as controlling the song and stage when he performs (something he learned from Hyuna). He cannot want something he cannot understand. He cannot want freedom in the sense the fandom keeps speaking about.

It's funny. From the moment Luka was revealed to be hated by the fandom, I wanted to know why. Instead of digging and finding horrific deeds, I instead found a character who portrayed my own traumas and experiences. I instantly attached and delved deeply into learning about this thirty year old singer. Why does he express himself in a certain way? Where do we first see mention of him? Who does he have emotions towards? How was he trained? What makes Luka himself? I have past essays/replies to other's theories if you're interested, but in this one I got personal and didn't sugarcoat the facts. If the fandom can't handle deep thought, we shouldn't be discussing this incredibly profound and depth-filled web series.

As always, thank you for your time, and I hope my thoughts allowed you to open your mind to new things. Mostly, I hope you enjoyed them 🫶

#alnst #alien stage #alnst luka #alien stage luka #luka alnst #luka alien stage #alien stage analysis #alien stage theory #alnst analysis #alnst theory #tw trauma #tw conditioning #tw manipulation #tw abuse #we're dissecting the following triggers btw #in cass you're wondering #take care #mirr's rambles #lukaposting

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havoc-7 · 1 year ago

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The more that I think about the early episodes of TBB S3, the funnier they get to me. Like

First we have Crosshair, who is really getting to know Omega for the first time. His only real interactions with her in the past have involved his brothers being EXTRA protective of her, so in his head Omega is probably just this poor, scared, naive little kid. And then one day she just pulls up to his prison cell and is like “what’s up, loser, we’re getting out of here” and then proceeds to sneak him out of a high security government lab under the nose of the emperor himself (she knows our battle plans?? Of course she knows all of our battle plans, that’s a normal thing to teach a 12 year old…) Not to mention the fact that Omega gambled in a bar and won more credits than either of them had probably ever seen in their lives, so that they could bribe the space TSA into getting them off world (WHY does the kid know how to gamble). Not that Crosshair is in any position to judge someone’s parenting, but he has QUESTIONS.

Omega, meanwhile, is for the first time getting the full Crosshair Experience, complete with every bit of sarcasm, snark, and sass that the man has been bottling up on Tantiss, and she is not having it. No, Crosshair, I don’t really know how to fly this shuttle, why don’t you quit your backseat flying and get your butt up here and do this yourself? No, Crosshair, we cannot open fire on civilians in an airport, I thought that was just an inhibitor chip thing for you. No, Crosshair, we are NOT LEAVING OUR MAN-EATING HOUND ALONE AND UNSUPERVISED ON A RESIDENTIAL PLANET.

And then you have Hunter, who hasn’t been thinking clearly for five months and who probably is living off a diet of spiked lemonade and sour patch kids (to match the bitterness inside him), who went from thinking “oh yeah we’re gonna settle down on Space Greece” to “Wrecker, that one crime syndicate called us back, if we murder this one guy for them then they MIGHT give us some info on Omega, wheels up in 10”

And poor Wrecker finds himself as The Responsible Adult for the first time in his life, which is incredibly confusing and a little bit scary and Hunter, you are TOO CLOSE to the edge of that cliff!! He’s never really believed in vegetables before but Echo says they’re good for you so he spends every moment that he’s not trying to keep Hunter from starting a second interplanetary war over the disappearance of his kid attempting to convince Hunter to try an apple or something.

And then it all culminates in this very tense, dramatic moment where they’re all staring at each other and Omega is like “yay now we can all get therapy!” and Wrecker is like “Echo come back I can’t do this on my own anymore” and Hunter is like “you can’t commit fratricide in front of the kid, you can’t commit fratricide in front of the kid” and Crosshair is like “TAKE YOUR SCARY CHILD BACK” and if that’s not peak Bad Batch then I don’t know what is

#sw tbb #the bad batch #star wars #tbb #sw the bad batch #tbb crosshair #tbb tech #tbb hunter #tbb wrecker #tbb echo #tbb omega

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jaythes1mp · 11 months ago

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Do you think readers' lives would be different if they were a deer hybrid?

Fun Fact: Did you know that cervids (from the deer, deer and elk family) are considered extremely sensitive animals. When suffering severe stress, such as when captured or rescued, for example, the animal's reaction can cause what is called 'capture myopathy' ', which compromises the organism of these animals.

I do, actually. Because, another fun fact! In June of this year me and my roommate saved a baby deer who was laying next to her mums dead body (she was less than 48 hours old). Fortunately she wasn’t injured. We were extremely lucky to be living next to a wildlife specialist, our neighbour, who’s been looking after Astrid and will continue to until she’s old enough to be relocated. Thankfully this wasn’t the first deer that’s been brought to her. So unfortunately I'm very acquainted with that fact.

She’s still striving strong though! These were the first pics taken of her.

Anyway, how they’d react:

Batfam x deer hybrid reader

With Damian's exceptionally caring nature when it comes to animals, he has already meticulously planned out the perfect environment for your deer forms comfort. He has considered every possible scenario and tailored everything to ensure your contentment as well as a space to meet all of your needs.

The young Wayne would thoughtfully strategize and visualise your reactions to every minor action or stimulus. He would carefully consider the most appropriate responses and adapt his behaviour to ensure a positive and nurturing environment for you. Even if the environment in question was one that you were forced into.

The bats would handle your transformed state with great caution, disregarding if your human mind was in control when you were transformed or not. Given your affiliation with the Cervidae family in your animal form, the Wayne family would be especially mindful and considerate of your natural tendencies, behaviours, and instincts.

Despite Dick's intelligence and expertise as a vigilante, being second only to Bruce Wayne himself, his impatience would become apparent within the twenty-ninth attempt to approach you for some affectionate ‘big brother cuddles’. Assuming you’re an adult or older teen, you would be extremely skittish and resistant in your deer form to his advances and attempts to get close, if not completely avoid his presence altogether, let alone let him cling to you for a ‘snuggle.’

Jason wouldn’t comprehend why you’d consistently conceal yourself, in both forms, hiding behind the couch every time he arrives, or why you involuntarily freeze at the sound of his motorcycle, or even why you instinctively flee at the slightest hint of him standing or making a move. But despite his confusion, he doesn't hold it against you. He’s witnessed the horrific experiences and trauma the children of Gotham City are subjected to, and if hiding and evading is the way you cope with what you’re going through, then he’s willing to wait patiently for you to feel secure in his presence. As your sibling, he vowed never to give you a reason to fear him. He knows just how overwhelming it is in this new environment, and he’s not planning on giving you any more reasons to be frightened by them.

Tim would find it easier to deal with your distressed nature than the others, opting to monitor you through the security cameras, allowing him to work on his cases simultaneously, rather than being overly affectionate with you. This way, he could keep a watchful eye on you without having to directly interact, which allows him to multi-task and focus on both keeping you safe and solving his cases.

Despite Jason and Dick no longer living in the Manor, Bruce would likely be the one to spend the least time with you. However, he's not neglecting you. He makes a conscious effort to rearrange his busy schedule, keeps certain days free every week, and meticulously plans time for some quality family bonding. Even if the quality time in question only consists of him quietly sitting in your vicinity, sipping on some freshly made tea while reading the newspaper, he cherishes every moment that he gets to share with you. Simply being near you is enough. Because you're his child, and he's not planning on fucking that up ever again.

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dr-spencer-reids-queen · 2 years ago

Text

A Rarity

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~900

Warnings: fluff

Summary: You have a rare genetic code called heterochromia. You have two different colored eyes that you have tried to suppress ever since you got seriously bullied in middle school. Just when you're about to present a case, you find your contact case is missing.

Square Filled: friends with benefits (2022) for @spencerreidbingo

Author’s Note: any and all comments are appreciated <3

Today is the day you start your new job as the team’s liaison. You’ve always been part of this since JJ was the main person to deal with it. However, she’s been promoted to profiler which means all the slack now falls on your shoulders. You love interacting with families and comforting them when they most need it.

This is the first case when it’s just going to be you, so you’re kind of nervous about it. Before going into the briefing room, you decide to touch up on your makeup and hair as if you’re going in front of millions on the TV to present the case. You take out your contacts and leave them to rehydrate on your desk while you go to the bathroom to fix your makeup.

Once you’re done, you make sure not to look into anyone’s eyes as you make your way back to your desk. The first thing you do is put away your makeup. The second thing you do is grab your contacts to put them back in but they’re not where you left them.

“Shit,” you curse and go through your entire desk. “No, this isn’t happening.”

You’re panicking at the thought of not having your contacts. You don’t need them to see, in fact, you have 20/20 vision. No, you use them only for color because you have a rare thing called heterochromia. Your right eye is bright blue and your left is bright green. You were born with two different eye colors. No one in your family has this genetic but you, so you have no idea where it came from.

Ever since you were enrolled in school, you were bullied for your eyes. It didn’t start getting bad until middle school when kids were more focused on appearances than learning and making friends. Kids in elementary school actually found them to be cool but only because they were little kids who didn’t know any better.

Your peers made you hate this part of you even though you can’t do anything about it. As soon as you started high school, you begged your mom to get you colored contacts. You’ve been wearing them ever since even into your adult years. You choose a natural blue to make yourself look more normal. Had you not had those, you would for sure get bullied even worse than in middle school.

The longer you went wearing them the more people thought your eyes were just one color. No one at work knows about this or so you thought. The only person who might know about this is Spencer but that’s only because you two have been friends with benefits for quite some time now. It helps to have one to work off the stress from work. Plus, he’s an amazing lover so there’s a plus.

You two aren’t dating just fucking a lot.

While he was getting ready this morning at your place, you were in the bathroom rushing to do your makeup. You hadn’t put your contacts in just yet so if he were to walk in the bathroom, he’d see your eyes for what they truly are. He was getting ready and peeked through the open door to see if you were close to being done when he saw the beauty in your eyes. He didn’t say anything about it so as not to embarrass you.

He walks into the bullpen from the break room to see you panicking.

“What’s wrong?” he asks.

“Where are my contacts? I just had them on my desk.”

“I didn’t know you wore contacts,” he lied. You refuse to look at him without them in. “I’m sure it’ll be alright. You have glasses, right?”

“Yes, but--”

“But what? What’s the problem?”

“Never mind,” you groan and continue looking for them.

“Hey, look at me.” When you don’t, he sets his coffee down on the desk and grabs your chin gently. He makes you look at him but you close your eyes so he doesn’t see their colors. “Open your eyes.”

“No,” you shake your head.

“Darling, open your eyes,” he says gently.

He would be the person to find out eventually. You sigh and open your eyes to show him the rarity you have. Now that he gets to see them up close, he’s falling more in love with you. You might not have feelings for him but he certainly has them for you. He only keeps you as a fuck buddy because if he were to tell you the truth, he might lose you.

“What beautiful eyes you have.”

“They’re ugly,” you sigh and pull away from him.

“Who told you that?”

“Everyone I’ve ever known,” you scoff. You look at your watch and notice the time. “Shit, I have to give the case out.”

“No one is going to notice.”

“Are you kidding me? They’re so bright. They stand out.”

“Fine, if they make comments, I’ll handle it.”

You have no choice but to go in there without your contacts. You sigh and grab your things before heading to the briefing room with Spencer. Everyone is already in there waiting so you immediately get started. As you’re talking, you notice Spencer watching you with a smile on his face.

“You’re beautiful,” he mouths to you.

Your cheeks heat up but you don’t let it show how happy he makes you. The briefing only lasts thirty minutes before Hotch announces wheels up. When everyone is packing up to get out of there, you notice something sticking out of Spencer’s back pocket.

Your contact case. You want to be mad at him for taking it but maybe it’s time to let your rarity shine.

Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fan fic #spencer reid fan fiction #spencer reid fiction #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #cm fanfiction #criminal minds fic #cm fic

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selfloverrrrrr · 7 months ago

Note

Witch!Reader x Demon!Satoru. He promises to fulfill her wish in exchange for something. She wants to be seen as a human being instead of a monster, the only thing she really wants is to be loved, and unfortunately he knows that. He fulfills her wish, but in return he imprisons her in his castle and promises to give her all the love and care she deserves (but in a very dark way).

The Ritual~

Warnings : smut , heavy smut, unprotected sex, Noncon, Kidnapping, physical and emotional abuse, biting, size difference, Yandere Gojo, demon Gojo, witch reader, jealous, obsessive, manipulative....

( All characters are aged up/18+)

Minors Do Not Interact

Read the warnings carefully....if you don't like my stories block me not report

Y/n's POV

I was born in a witch family. My mother was a witch too. So were my ancestors. I'm also a witch. I didn't know what was it when I was a kid. Is being a witch a good thing or a bad thing? I always used to ask myself. But all I knew was my mom always used to hide the fact from everyone that we all are witches.

So many years passed. I grew up. I'm an adult now. And I still don't have the answer that if being a witch is good or bad. But for me it became a curse. A curse for which my whole family got killed. The king hired to kill all the witches in his kingdom. He's such a powerful king. And that's why my family isn't with me now.

We all were unaware that they were attacking us. It was the middle of the night. I saw them kill everyone in front of my eyes. I ran away from there. But they saw me. I ran all I could. And for god's blessings they couldn't find me. Now I made a small hut in the forest.

All time fear attacks me that they will find me and kill me too. I can't live like this. I need to find a way where I can live like normal people. So I started learning witches techniques. Maybe any of them will help me? I started reading the books of my ancestors.

I started learning many magics. But none of them are for what I was trying to find. I never did witch activities before. I started searching in all those books. Maybe, just maybe something that will make me like the other normal people and I can live a normal life just like them?

I searched all I could. But nothing was related this. But then I found something. A book which is sealed. I looked at it. It was the last hope. I opened the seal. It was too old. Am I even gonna find anything from here? I opened the book anyways. After some time of reading what I found can actually help me. The things written in the book are:

"He got sealed. After all those trying, we all witches are successful. We sealed him. He, the strongest demon. He got birthed and from that day it was all the witch's job to end him. Though its not possible to kill him. He's too powerful. We all were also shocked that we got him sealed. He was birthed to destroy the world. He wants to rule it. He has destroyed too many places. He has killed too many people. And after doing rituals we managed to seal him. That demon, that monster's name is:

Gojo Satoru"

I kept turning the pages and the last page got my attention.......

Process to unseal Gojo Satoru

He'll fulfill your wish

My heart started beating wildly. Should I do it? It is mentioned that he is too dangerous. But he'll fulfill my wish. I don't have anything in my life. Does it even matter if I risk it? If I don't do it people are gonna try to kill me all the time. Then I should take a risk. I have to go to the place mentioned in the book.

The place mentioned in the book is the old burnt castle at the end of the forest. I've seen that castle from the young age. Everyone told me to stay away from there. But they never told me the story behind it. Today I got to know about the real story behind it.

The ritual needs to be done at night. So I collected all the things that were needed in the ritual that day. And I went there the next night. I wore a hooded dress so that no one could recognise me. And I was lucky that there weren't any people there. I quickly made my way inside the old castle with a candle in my hand.

I entered the castle. It was huge. There's dust everywhere. And the castle is burnt also. It made me curious about what happened here? I kept walking. The huge stairs from the middle. I have to go to the top room of this castle. As in the book there's a throne room which is the ritual room. I went up there.

I pushed the door open and my mouth was wide open by the beauty of the throne room. I wondered what it looked like when it wasn't burnt. I went towards the throne. I don't have enough time to do the ritual. I quickly set up what was written in the book. Then lit up all the candles. Then started doing the ritual. My heart was thumping against my chest.

As I completed the spell. The wind started flowing heavily. Suddenly all the candles were extinguished together. Then the wind stopped flowing. And all of a sudden all the candles lit up together again. Then I saw a tall human figure sitting on the throne.

He has a huge masculine body. He's tall, has handsome sharp features, white hair, white eyelashes and those gorgeous blue eyes. He looks exactly the same said in the book. He's wearing all black royal clothes. He turned his head on both sides and the cracking sound echoed through the room. Then he looked at me.

Can that beautiful person be that dangerous? I asked myself. "So you're the one who unsealed me?" He spoke. I have to respect him. "Yes, my lord" I replied looking at the ground. "Hmmmmm.....well, this place is still burnt and dusty everywhere.... and I don't like my castle to lose its beauty" he said and threw a hand beside him.

A blue ray came out of his hand. And all of a sudden the castle turned all new. Not burnt anymore neither dust anywhere. I was already gorgeous and now it has become more gorgeous. A huge black gorgeous castle. "Hmm.....so what's the reason you unsealed me?" He asked.

"my lord, I'm a witch.... people of the king are killing all the witches. They killed my family too. I don't wanna live like this. I was to live like normal people. I want everyone to think of me like normal people. I want to be loved." I replied. And then there was silence. I could feel him staring at me.

"So you don't wanna be a witch any more and want to be loved right?"he asked. "... yes. My lord" I replied. He smirked. "Okay....done" he said swiping his finger in the air. My eyes widened in hope that now I can live like normal people. I looked at my hand and the witch sign was gone.

That means..... that means I'm not a witch anymore? I was so happy. "T-thank you... thank you, my lord" I said with a smile on my face. I stood up. I said "I should go now-" he didn't let me finish "No" he said. It almost seemed like an order. I dared to look at him. And there was a sinister smirk on his face.

"I didn't give you permission to leave" he said and went up from the throne. And within a blink I was standing in front of me. I got frightened and took a step back with a gasp. "You scared?" He asked with a smirk. I didn't reply. "Are you?" He asked again tilting his head. ".... N-No" I replied.

"okay.... then come with me... let me show you something" I said with a grin offering a hand to me. I have to accept his hand and so I did. And within a blink we both were standing in front of the window. How fast is he? "Look at the kingdom. I own this. I'm gonna burn this place" he said. Now he was definitely terrifying me.

He placed a hand on my waist and pulled me against him. Now this is getting too uncomfortable. "And you'll be watching them die with me from here. And I'll kill them first who killed your family" he said. What does that mean?! "M-my lord I should go now" I said. "And I already said no" he said looking at me.

"you want to be loved, right?..... you'll be living here in my castle with me.... and I'll give you all the love you need" he whispered in my ear. My eyes widened. Oh no no no. This is not what I want. He wants to kidnap me in his castle?! Shit I don't have my powers anymore either. What should I do now?!

"what happened?" He asked and nuzzled his face on my neck. I took a deep breath and pushed him. Then ran all I could. I was running through the corridor and bumped into someone. Of course it's none other than Gojo Satoru. I don't have any ways now. I automatically started crying.

He smirked. "Didn't thought someone has the bravery to disobey me" he said and started walking towards me and I started walking backwards. "P-Please let me go I don't want that life" I cried. "Oh darling you don't know how much I love to see people crying. And for your life I'm the one have the power to decide how you'll live" he said.

Then he clapped his hand and we both were standing in a.... BEDROOM?! He grabbed my hand and pulled me against him. "Now tell me what you were saying?" He asked. "P-Please....let go... P-Please" I said. "Let you go? But didn't you wish to be loved? I'm giving you the love you deserve" he said while grabbing my ass and squeezing it.

I yelped at that. "P-Please I don't want to stay her-" before I could even complete my sentence he threw me on the bed and claimed on me. I screamed so loudly out of fear when threw me on the bed. "Didn't you say you're not scared? That seems like a lie now" he said and took off a strand of hair out of my face.

"it's been years since I was sealed. Never thought I'll get this gorgeous gift as soon as I get unsealed " he said with a smirk and pressed his lips on mine. I tried to push his chest but he grabbed my hands and held them beside my head while kissing me aggressively. He pushed his tongue inside my mouth.

I was shaking my head in protest but he didn't stop. When he stopped he immediately grabbed the top of my dress and tore it off. How strong is he??? He tore off a dress with Corset with his hands?! I almost screamed when he did. I covered myself and tried to crawl up.

He grabbed my hair and made me look at him. "Did I say to cover yourself???" He asked. His eyes shined. Tears falling down from my eyes. He smirked and licked my neck with his long tongue. I was shaking from fear. "You know seeing you scared makes me more turned on" he whispered.

I couldn't breathe. He grabbed the hem of my dress and pulled it over my head. My boobs bounced out. He looked at those with lust in his eyes. His eyes shined in the dim light. He didn't waste any time, crashed his mouth on my breast licking, sucking and teasing the nipple and squeezing the other one with his hand. I moaned in the sensation. I grabbed his hair and tried to stop him by pulling it but it didn't even affect him. "M-my lord stopppp" I screamed but he didn't stop. "It's Satoru, darling.... I won't kill you if you call me Satoru"

Then he took off my pantie. He looked at my pussy. He rubbed his finger on my clit and whispered " so wet. You naughty little slut, getting wet for me huh?". Then he licked my pussy. I couldn't help but moan loudly. He smirked at my reaction and undo his pants.

His dick sprang out. It was too big and too thick. "Look... this is what you have done to me..." he said while stroking his dick. Fear grabbed me by my neck. " S-Satoru no no no... P-please no... s-stop" I begged and called him Satoru as he said so maybe he listens to me? but didn't even listen to me and slammed his whole dick inside me in one slide. I screamed. He didn't even give me time to adjust his size and started thrusting in and out roughly. I was through my legs with pain and begging him to stop. And he liked it so much. His thrust became harder and harder.

I clenched around him tightly and he moaned loudly " you know.... you're the first witch I love....I always hated all the witches.... never seen such a gorgeous witch like you.... f-fuck what great present I got as soon as I got unsealed" he started rubbing my clit with his thumb and I bite his shoulder scratched his back to control myself. With a few more thrusts I came. He was still thrusting roughly. I felt his cock pulsing inside me. I tried to push him away with all of my strength." Ughh...no no no no...ahhhhhh... I don't want this ..." I moaned. "Do you still think you can make me stop?" He said with a smirk. I dig my nails more deeper into his back as he Marked me. He continued thrusting. Within a minute he came inside me I could feel his seed inside me. He pulled out. He fell beside me on the bed.

"You need to be loved? I'll give you all the love you deserve..... now spread your legs again.... I'm not done yet.... I was sealed for over 500 years.... you don't expect me to stop right now, do you?" He said and chuckled demonicly.

Give me your requests guys....

I love when you give me your requests 💕

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sapphicautumn · 1 month ago

Text

Getaway. E.W PART ONE

Synopsis: You decide to bring your girlfriend on your family vacation for the first time, which deems difficult as you try to juggle the chaos of hiding the fact you’re both dating from the rest of the group.

Pairing: modern!ellie x femme reader. WLW.

Content: swearing, fluff, alluding to somewhat homophobic parents, some smut.

<3 this is WLW. Men and minors do NOT interact.

It was a minor white lie. Really didn't mean much, seriously!

Nothing "life changing" or something you would feel guilty of....well....maybe a little guilty?

Your annual family vacation to Arizona was approaching, something you somewhat dreaded. Not that you didn't love your family, however, being cramped up within a small cabin in the woods for a week is not the ideal "vacation" you'd whip up in your mind. You have been going since you could first walk, so its mandatory, but now that you were an adult, your mother granted permission to bring along a guest.

You had eagerly brought up your friends name, not needing a second more to consider the plus 1 who will be trapped beside you.

"How about Ellie?"

Your mother was folding clothes, fitting them into her old maroon suitcase, the same one she has had since 2002. "hm..Ellie. I like her" her voice carried a casual and neutral tone as she looked up to your figure, leaning against the doorway.

"so I can bring her?"

"I mean, my only concern is that she's just quiet, a bit more introverted than the rest of us, no? Think she can manage?" her red acrylics scratch her chin, thinking of the situation.

"ma, its Ellie, if she can handle being my friend, she can handle the whole thing"

Except Ellie was in fact, not your friend.

You met when you were younger, 2nd grade to be exact. She had a collection of Dino Japanese erasers, and to you, that seemed like a good enough quality to be best friends.

Play dates began getting arranged between conversations with your mom & hers, and soon enough you were showing her your pink, stuffed animal covered bedroom. Perhaps, subconsciously, you've always felt something for Ellie, even if you didn't know it. The way you'd get so excited whenever she would agree to finalllyyyy play monster high dolls with you, despite her hating them, or the way she would defend you from her own brother's antics.

You didn't even think it was possible to be in a relationship with a girl, the crowd you grew up in were religious, and conservative. Now, you loved your parents, of course, but as you grew older with Ellie, some boundaries had to be put into place.

"When is that girl gonna bring home a boy?" Your own aunt would speak at the thanksgiving table, sipping a strong beverage that was as red as her lipstick.

"I think she is just school oriented, y'know her, always got her head wrapped around college" your mother's hand dismissed with a wave, as you peaked around the corner wall, listening carefully as the last family members who lingered after dessert drank at the kitchen island, gossiping about YOU.

"Well...she oughta hurry up. You don't want her to be an old maid or something"

Your Mother, Maria, laughed, "She is only 17"

"so?"

Your uncle chimed in, "Lets just hope she's not into girls or something like that. I've been seeing it a lot more nowadays"

Your dad scoffed, offended, "our girl? no, she's headstrong, she is in no way "confused"....She knows better than to ever bring that shit here"

Your ears picked up the chatter, some laughs of agreement. It was almost violating. You didn't know at this point if you were gay, but you definitely knew one thing: you liked Ellie.

Whether that was as a best friend, or a crush? who could tell. You grew up forcing yourself to pick random boys in your class to crush over, it was never natural, so what did it feel like? to be enamored with someone so deeply, you'd willingly spend the rest of your life with them, even if it meant cutting off other family in sacrifice.

Ellie and you were attached at the hip with any free moment you had, it was senior year, and finals had the two of you packed to the brim with stress.

"Can you put the laptop down, please?" Ellie groaned, itching her top lip as she hugged her knees, sat at the end of your bed.

"I'm trying to check my status, just hang on. Start without me" you gesture to the tv with some urgency.

With a huff, Ellie switched the Mario Kart to single player, absent minded-ly playing with random people as she waited for you to hurry the fuck up.

It was Friday night, and the first one in a while you two could hang, at that. It was tradition for her to kick your ass and win every video game, you knew she'd beat you, and yet you didn't care.

Ellie was focused on controlling her avatar when a gasp made her jump, pausing and turning around to see your hand covering your mouth. "what?? what happened?" she urgently crawled over to see your screen.

"I got in..." your voice wavered with emotion, showing her the application status that had been updated. You were accepted to your dream school.

Ellie felt her lungs deflate, sitting for a moment before realizing she had to react. Her hands were thrown around you as she rested her chin against your shoulder, looking down, "congrats...thats really....thats really good!"

You hugged back, heart beating out of your chest, "oh my God, I can't believe it!!" you gently pulled back to see her, laughing and smiling widely.

Ellie mirrored the expression, "Im really proud...I know you wanted this"

Your eyes were wide, still in shock. "I know I just, wow, wow!!!!" your hands waved around with excitement, before cupping her face and kissing your best friend.

I suppose the rush of happiness and the unexpected email resulted in you not thinking....definitely not thinking. Ellie's eyes widened, the brunette pausing for a moment before kissing you back.

When you pulled away, your fingers grazed the skin of your pink bottom lip, the tingling sensation still palpable. "uh..sorry.."

"...'s ok" Her face was red, almost waiting for you to kiss her again.

But you don't. In fact, you get up and run downstairs to show your family the email, bragging about the scholarship as well. The kiss is never brought up again. ever.

It was a really....confusing and isolating time period, the months of April all the way to August. You two don't really hang, talk,...text. No night time face-times, or Friday night hangs. She would eagerly check your Instagram, often times being the first viewer to your story.

"33 seconds ago. great. Now I look like a stalker"

She'd like the post anyways, not even caring. You wouldn't even view her story at all, it was almost like you forgot about her overnight. Ellie understood to some degree, moving into college was a change, maybe you were stressed?

Ellie chose to continue working at her father's farm, as college was not something she would be wanting to do now, maybe in the future.

The only saving grace she'd have is that you weren't too far, it was a college about 30 minutes away, so why the hell did you seem much further?

The reason behind your absence wasn't malicious. It was out of fear. You loved Ellie, and you knew it for a long time. How could you ever confess that given the environment you grew up in? You were 100%, completely, without a doubt, suffering from comphet, and Ellie assumed you hated her.

On the opposite, Ellie had always known she was gay, something she didn't have to think twice about, just like her feelings for you.

By some saving grace up above, Ellie found herself picking up food for herself at a local pub. She walked in at the right time, standing by the front host as her eyes detected you, sitting at the bar behind.

She mumbled a thank you as she took her bag, carefully walking over to you, almost in shock. "uh..." was all the brunette could get out.

Turning around in the stool, you were met with your old best friend. It had only been a few months yet it felt like more. The guilt washed back up your throat like acid, "h-hey"

The pain within your expression was noticeable, Ellie stood there awkwardly, bundled up with her bags of food. She didn't know what to say.

"mm...whatcha got, there?" you gestured, feeling the weird tension.

"Chicken and rice"

"good choice, I like the food h-"

"why're you here?" she cut you off, face still emotionless.

You adjusted your top, where your the swell of your breasts had been protruding. It was like a magnet for Ellie's eyes. You never dressed like this. "well, I'm back for the week. Headed to my parents later and thought I'd....dunno.."

"pregame?" her voice was bitter, eyebrows creasing. "Don't tell me you have a fake ID"

"I have a fake ID" your voice mumbled way too quick.

The two of you stared at each other for a moment, like strangers. Ellie felt herself getting emotional, "and why haven't you reached out, huh? forget about me?"

"maybe" you shrugged, sipping the liquor you're not old enough to have. With that, Ellie turned on her heel, stepping out.

Something inside you twitched, as if a little bit of your mind was electrocuted back to reality, facing the situation. Your legs stood upright, almost jogging out to see your friends back, unlocking her car.

"wait! wait!" your reached Ellie, hand on her jacket as she yanked away from you, eyes teary, taking you off guard. "what do you want?" she snapped, voice cold..hurt.

"Ellie.....I, I never forgot about you" the words almost slurred, the alcohol having some effect. "I think about you everyday, I worry about you, where you were, what you've been doing, but I..."

"but what?" she whispered, a tear reaching her chin.

"i was just...I still am, scared"

"of?" Ellie sniffled, eyes focusing intently on your vulnerability.

"Ellie I know i've been a total dick, I know it! I know it so damn bad! I just, I was scared because I like you, and once I realized that I was queer, I knew I'd be fucked because in no universe can you and I even exist together, not with my family" Now you had been the one crying.

Ellie almost had a heart attack, suddenly her stomach hurt. She didn't know if she would puke or faint. "You like me?"...

"Ellie I really do....and it's ok if you don't like me back, and I'm very aware that my actions don't mirror my words, but please-"

She kissed you, hands almost desperate to touch as if starved. You kissed back, the situation mirroring the unspoken kiss shared in your bedroom all those months back. There was clarity, somewhat.

Ellie took you to her house that night, where it led to you both losing your virginity to each other. There was no regret, or moral crisis to follow. Surprisingly, it only solidified the feelings you felt.

You laid your head on her bare chest, whispering with a pout, "I'm sorry"

"no..don't be. I kinda get it now....I just wish you would have just opened up sooner" her voice carried a dry laugh, fingers brushing the delicate hair away from your forehead.

"mmm...I know...I just assumed that if I pretended you weren't there, it would go away"

"and....how did it work out?" she whispered, smiling.

"we just had sex in your childhood bedroom, so...."

The two of you shared a soft laugh, it felt normal for the first time in a while, even if it was a new normal. You remained in contact, sharing texts and calls between classes, even inviting her to your dorm every once in a while.

It took a minute, but by that next summer before sophomore year, you two had agreed to bite the bullet and become official. It was scary, not just for you, but for Ellie as well. If your family had found out about your little relationship, You would probably be shunned.

It was quiet. Very quiet, but present. The love was there, even if it couldn't be as loud as you both wanted originally.

So no, Ellie and you were not friends anymore, You were girlfriends.

Inviting her to the family vacation felt like a risky leap of faith, especially considering how tight you'd all be, alongside you both + your parents and older sister, Dina, who was 25, and was very clever at reading you. Not too clever if she has yet to find out.

Ellie was reluctant to tag along, but seeing the desperate look in your eye, she knew it was her girlfriend duty to put up with it.

Your dad, Tommy, hoisted up our luggage to the overhead car carrier, "thanks for helping" he sarcastically shot out, glaring at the two of you girls down below.

"no problem" you shrugged, guiding Ellie into the car. You both sat in the back together, Dina in the middle, and parents in the front. It was a 6 hour car ride from HELL.

You figured being all the way in the back would provide some sense of privacy, but no, there was none. Dina kept turning around to show you both tiktok videos that were not funny. You didn't know if you had anymore fake laughs within you.

Finally, Your elder sister had gotten tired as well, opting to fall asleep. You took a picture of her snoring, jaw wide open, knowing someday it would be good payback.

"don't be mean" Ellie cooed, smiling at you.

"I'm not...." your smirk appeared, plugging your phone into the car charging port before turning your attention back to your girlfriend. "are you comfortable?"

She shrugged, "its a little cold, but i'm o-"

"MA!" your voice rang to the front of the van, "can we turn the AC down?"

"It is 88 degrees, no we cannot." Maria mumbles, dismissively flaring her hand.

You huffed, unzipping one of your bags to grab a blanket. You tossed it over both your laps and shyly smiled, reaching to hold her hand from underneath.

Ellie softened and rubbed your skin, it had only been about 3 hours, if that, since they'd been on the road, but that's a long time to be this close and not touching. She silently mouthed "I love you", making your cheeks dust with a soft pink, your fingers squeezed hers 4 times to symbolize a response of "I love you too".

3 hours, and a few truck stops later, you had all made it to the cabin site, the familiar roads leading you up the hill serving a nostalgic wave of emotion. Maybe this year it'll be more fun with Ellie, you figured.

There were 3 bedrooms, to be exact. One for your parents, one for Dina, and one for you.

"Where's Ellie gonna sleep?" Maria brought in suitcases, setting them down on the wood flooring of the quiet cabin, it smelled of dust and humidity.

"uh....In my room?" you spoke quickly, stating what you thought deemed obvious.

"Nonsense, you don't have to share a bed. That would be awkward" Tommy snorted, "I got an inflatable mattress!"

You shared a glance of humor and annoyance with the girl across the room, as your dad moved to go fill it up for the guest.

"fun." The brunette muttered.

You moved your stuff into the small corner of the cabin, checking the bed for bugs. "smells like shit in here"

"its the old wood" your dad gestured around, setting the air mattress down beside your main bed. "well, unpack quickly. I'm gonna get dinner started" He smiled, moving out of Ellie's way to head back down to the kitchenette. Your girlfriend glanced before shutting the door, arms seeking your comfort, even for a quick moment.

You hugged the girl, swaying. "This is.....uhg I'm sorry. This isnt fun"

Ellie kissed you gently, smiling against your lips, "shut up, I came here for you only....we can survive."

"barley" your voice mumbled, fingers brushing the girls cheek.

"besides, it's like a bonding exercise, no?"

You deadpanned and playfully nudged her off, "freak"

"oh? freak?" Ellie's giggle rang through your ears, she grabbed your waist and kissed your neck animatedly, making you stumble back against your bed with mirroring laughter. You tilted your head back as she attacked it, your hands sat idle on her hips.

"mm ok...ok, seriously." you tapped Ellie's butt, "off"

The girl stubbornly sat up, still on you. "You're right, this isn't fun."

"Elsssss..." you tried to gently push her off, the force becoming harder as you hear the door open. Your girlfriend sat beside you, adjusting herself as Dina walked in. "uh...dinners ready...."

"cool. thanks" the response was quick.

"what the hellyante was going on in here" she spoke, leaning against the wall.

"we were just playing around, Dina, Geez"

"mmkay...." she turned and walked downstairs, you glared at Ellie, whispering. "baby...we have to be more careful ok?"

She pecked your lips

"Okayyy?" you repeated, stern.

"ok...sorry"

"dont like pasta?" Maria spoke up, eyes focused on Ellie's dinner plate.

She finished the salad, looking up at your mom, "Oh, uh, yeah I should have mentioned something earlier, Im actually gluten free."

"oh, honey im sorry!" Maria stood, "i'll grab some more salad"

"I don't get the new trend these days, oh vegans, oh restrictions! Oh I don't eat meat, or bread, or dairy, or whatever. It's nonsense, ya need carbs! Bunch of bullshit"

You paused, everyone looking at your dad, the table quiet for a moment before you cleared your throat, "dad....it's an allergy."

Tommy blinked. "oh. My bad. In that case, do NOT eat it!"

Your face buried into your hands "Jesus Christ."

"it's all good" Ellie smiled, finding humor in the chaos that was your family. Dina sat across from you both, swirling the pasta on her fork. Once in a while, she'd watch, almost studying you.

"You have sauce on your face" You try to throw off the scent, catching her staring. Your sister wiped at her chin with her sleeve, classy.

Maria spoke, "uh, dessert?"

You were thankful for the distraction.

Despite it being summer, Your dad and sister made a fire outside the cabin in the pit, illuminating the dark area of land as everyone made s'mores.

Ellie ate the chocolate and marshmallow on its own, opting to not burn it, making you raise a brow, "so...thats not how you make one, Ellie"

Your girlfriend giggled, "leave me alone...I don't wanna burn my mouth ok?"

"that's why you blow on it, and wait...You can't wait 5 seconds?"

....."no"

The two of you giggled, making Maria smile and turn her attention over to you both, Dina and Tommy inside.

"Are you enjoying yourself, Ellie?"

The girl sat up, adjusting herself, "y-yeah! yeah, thank you for inviting me along. loveeee sitting in the woods....super cool"

Your sneaker aimed for her ankle, sending her a glare that spoke "knock it off."

"I never asked, What is it that you are doin' now? school?" Your mom's oblivious smile persisted, watching her.

Clearing her throat, "uh, no, no college for me"

"oh? why not?"

"mom, not everyone has to go to college...." you tried to defend Ellie, sensing the judgement brewing already.

"No I know! I'm just curious, This is the time to get an education for a lasting career you know. Precious years"

"I mean...I can go to college anytime I want, I just think right now I'd rather focus on myself. I work at my dad's farm, and work on my art and stuff so I'm pretty busy"

"art?"

Ellie nods, breaking the mini Hershey in half as she ate it.

Your mom smiled, a bit sarcastically, "Well, that's a fun hobby, but art isn't a career"

"mom..." your voice grew worried

Ellie can handle her own, she confidently spoke, "I beg to differ, Art is very important"

Maria simply chuckled, "If you say so"

"I do say so"

You reached around to poke her back, wanting her to stop before an argument began. She got the hint and focused on her snack. Maria sat, amused. "well....I think it's getting late."

"I agree. Ellie?"

"yup."

You stood and tugged her inside, Maria calling out, "get some sleep, we have an early morning!"

Your feet pattered up the stairs, flicking the light on in the bedroom as you shut the door, leaning against it. "what the fuck, babe?"

Ellie's soft eyes got big, curious, "What?"

You sighed, knowing she didn't do anything wrong. "nothing. I just don't want my mom to offend you or some shit. She's...very judgmental."

"no judgement felt. It's not that easy to break me, trust" She spoke cockily, making you smile. "I know..I know, I'm just very protective and I can't protect you properly in front of them without possibly outing us both..."

"and that's what I love about you, you're like a guard dog"

You smiled, turning shy for a moment. "Yeah? You love me?"

"yes, dumbass. I do" Ellie came over, calloused hands rubbing your sides casually yet intimately. "kinda question is that?"

"I love you too"

"good."

Both of your lips met in a delicate, unrushed kiss.

The knock scared you both, you looked at Ellie before gently turning to open the door, "ye-"

"just checkin the air mattress, there was a hole I patched up, good as new. Should be fine" your dad barged in, pressing on the makeshift bed on the floor. "what we thinkin, ellie?"

The girl put her hands on her hips, walking over and laying down. "oh yeah,...quality stuff. Good job" she gave a thumbs up, making you hide a smile as you crawled into the bigger bed, looking down.

"great! works out!" Tommy came over, kissing your head, "night, darlin, you girls gotta be up early, so no chattin about boys or shit"

-and just like that, he's out the room. The sound of the door shutting made Ellie sit up, whispering. "boys?"

You snickered, not yet moving until you could hear your parents bedroom door shut for the night, and once you did, you reached over to flick the dim lamp on.

"yeah, boys." your eyes looked down at your poor girlfriend, basically flat on the hardwood floor.

Ellie stood, "yeah, no, i'm not sleeping there. I don't want scoliosis to be my only souvenir from this trip."

you muffled a laugh with your palm, reaching out to her sleeve, "cmere..."

Ellie crawled beside you, making out the shadows of your features in the dim room. She couldn't wait to touch you, finally. "Hi"

Laying your head back on the pillow, your eyes met hers, a whisper, "hi".

"you're so pretty..." Ellie cooed, nuzzling against you in her dinosaur pajamas. "yeah? you think, honey?"

"mhm" her head nodded, pressing kisses along your collar bones until she reached up behind your ear, the action sending a slight shiver down your skin.

"mmm...I think you're just lovely.." you mumble, hand casually brushing the somewhat messy brown hair on Ellie's head.

Ellie gave you a silly, sneaky look before messing with your tank top strap. "what're you up to..?" your voice was a whisper, no intent to actually stop her.

"Did I ever tell you that I'm gay?"

You snort, closing your eyes as your hand rests on your forehead, hair sprawled along the white pillow beneath you. "What!? you are??"

"surprise" Ellie bit her lip, giggling quietly as her fingers gently pulled the fabric of your tank top down, now exposing the soft covering of your sports bra. "you still fuck with me or nah?"

"mmmm....nah"

You both shared another laugh, attempting to be quiet. You watched her with hooded eyes as she continued her actions, hand gently groping your breast, lips attached to your neck, making you involuntarily moan.

"shhh..." Ellie reminded you, a smirk evident.

"you're such an ass...."

She shrugged, not denying your statement as her fingers pulled the sports bra down, your breasts slowly sliding out of it. "actually I lied"

You tilt your head

"i'm not gay...i'm really gay"

You flicked her head before brushing her hair back, not having time to make a stupid comment in return before she attached her lips around your nipple, her mouth ever so gently sucking at the soft skin.

You shut your eyes, mouth agape, "oh, babe...." your fingers found her nape, rubbing at the spot slowly.

On cue, Her other hand reached up to slide her thumb over your untouched breast, humming against you in contentment.

Your breath was slightly uneven, letting her do whatever as you stayed put, hands comfortingly brushing through your girlfriends hair.

Ellie slid her knee between your legs, brushing against your cute, purple pajama shorts. "oh...mmm" you looked down, making eye contact as you rutted your clothed pussy against her knee, with 0 shame.

Your hand reached to hold her side, moving up and down slowly as her tongue continued to swirl around on your chest, the feeling making you arch into her.

Ellie sat up, looking at you with a smug expression. Your eyes were big, and fucked out already, almost a pout.

She laid beside you again, kissing your lips slowly as her hand reached down, parting your bent legs, fingers sliding under your panties as she watched your reaction.

"uh-mphm" You tiled your head back, arms clung to her as your face read desperation, Ellie's reading humor.

"gotta be quiet, yeah? imagine your parent's findin out. no fun.." The brunette teased, fingers slowlllyyyy circling your clit, finding this exhilarating.

You kissed her again, not trusting your mouth to be quiet as your tongues clashed against each other. Ellie continued her relentless assault on your soaked core, speeding the pace up as you clenched around nothing.

Inviting Ellie on the family trip meant you'd have to be really secretive, and you knew that. What you didn't expect, is for her to already have her fingers in you on the first night.

So much for "easing into things".

"It feels good? yeah?" with her mouth pressed against your ear, the words felt more intimate, you were overwhelmed, arm cling around her as Ellie's middle and ring finger curled inside you, the noise of your arousal was louder than both of you.

You whined, looking up at her with scrunched eyebrows, hips chasing her hand's every movement, "oh I know.." she whispered against you, "I know it feels so good, you wanna cum for me? I know you can, wanna feel it, baby"

Her barley audible dirty words made you clench, nails digging against her arm, "ellie..."

"mm?" She smirked, focusing on your expression, her aim hitting just the right spot. She saw it in your face, you were close.

Your thighs clamped together as you arched, face hidden in her neck as Ellie put her hand over your mouth, "shhhhh...poor baby, be quiet..."

Her hand slid out of you, trailing up your stomach as they left a slight trail of wetness. "you didn't even tell me you were coming?" she teased, tilting her head as she forced you to look at her.

"it just happened" you squeaked out, clinging to her, legs slightly shaky.

"mm...really needed that, huh?" Ellie draped the blanket over you both, licking her fingers clean before rubbing your breast gently,

"you're really ballsy for doin that with my parents down the hall..."

"yeah, I am. But it felt good, didn't it?"

".....shut up"

Your girlfriend embraced you lovingly, rubbing your back slowly as her eyes watched your sleepy figure. You lazily looked back at her. "I love you."

"love you too...so much, baby"

You slid your hand into hers, interlocking your fingers as you whisper again, "ellie....?"

She noticed the slight change in your demeanor, paying attention, "hm...?"

You swallowed, watching her.

"I think I wanna come out soon."

96 notes · View notes

uranometrias · 1 year ago

Text

✮ꜜ : ❛ now i see daylight : spencer reid x fem! reader

pairing: spencer reid x fem! reader

summary: three weeks have gone by since your last encounter with reid. you'd both been doing an exceptional job of pretending that the other didn't exist. you felt like it was only fair. he didn't have the right to talk to you any type of way, and you supposed in his mind, you didn't have the right to behave so jealously. three weeks of no ground being made, that is, of course, until a conversation with rossi helps to screw your head on straight

content warnings: love confessions. reader definitely has anxiety and a fear of romance/relationships, BUT she fights her fear! i also think it's fair to say that she views telling spencer about her feelings as facing her fear, regardless of his response! this is part two to 'guilt is a motherfucker'.... i'm so sorry it's taken forever, but i've actually preparing to enlist in the army && haven't had a lot of down time. i've got 10 drafts to prove it, but i tried my best to make this longer than part one, and i hope that you guys enjoy it.

Grow up.

Those words had haunted you for about three weeks. It'd been that long since the day you and Spencer had sort of... drifted apart. You refused to blame yourself, despite knowing full well this whole ordeal was majorly your fault. Okay, all of the blame very well rested on your shoulders, but you were stubborn. You'd been that way forever.

Maybe you were the childish, scared, and jealous little girl he'd accused you of being. That wasn't your job to figure out, because he had no business speaking to you that way. Who did he think he was? You could hit him right in his stupid little face. That last thought of violence seems to follow you.

Especially as you sat as your desk, leg bouncing furiously underneath as you counted the seconds until he was away from the kitchenette. Your cup of coffee was dwindling, and you still had a few more files to get through, before you'd give yourself room to slack off. You needed more caffeine, but the newfound thorn in your side was taking up space, using up all the sugar as he made his third cup of the day.

A more mature person might have questioned why you didn't just go up there anyway. He didn't own the kitchenette, and it wasn't like you had to say anything at all. It was meant to be cut-and-dry, you were both mature adults, you could interact as such. Except neither of you were quite as mature as you affronted. You could just picture the screwed up expression he'd offer you if you chose to approach.

You were certain your face was already twisted up, showing off your own annoyance, and he wasn't even near you.

You'd been berated by Derek, Emily, and Penelope over your petty streak, all three parties really driving in the point that you were behaving like a toddler throwing a tantrum. They had a point, but you also refused to accept any such criticism about your behavior. Partly, because you hated correction, and you didn't want to think about the possibility that all of your friends were on his side.

But you think most of your refusal to accept your part from any of them had a lot to do with the fact that they weren't the ones who'd been so callously humiliated, and they weren't the ones with feelings for someone who obviously knew, and was perfectly content flaunting such knowledge right in your face.

God, you could punt him like a football.

You needed to work on your insult creativity, these were starting to get repetitive. You shake all thoughts of assault out of your mind as Dave begins to approach your desk. Rossi wasn't stupid, he like everyone else had noticed the significant decline in attention passed between you, and Reid. But unlike the rowdier members of the team, he and JJ had elected to go the route of silent but deadly.

They'd cast the both of you disapproving looks when in rare form you'd allowed your spat to affect your job. Their clear disappointment in you exceptionally loud. Times like those were sparce, you really only ever objected obedience when Hotch insisted on partnering the both of you up. Which had luckily become much more rare in the last few weeks.

"Still pouting, angioletto?" he asks, and his ability to read right through you seems to make your pout deepen. "It's been three weeks, don't you think it's time to talk about it or move on?" he questions, and there's no judgement there. It's what you like the most about Rossi, he seemed to have fallen into the role of paternal figure incredibly well. He gave you the tough love that you often needed.

But he never disrespected your boundaries, he never went too far. He'd always say just enough to nudge you in the right direction.

"Maybe." you agree, and it's true. You know it's time to put this situation behind you in one way or another, but you refused to cave first. You didn't want to give Spencer the satisfaction of it, and once again you're made aware of just how petty you really were. "But I don't want to." you voice this thought to Dave, who offers an unamused expression. You narrow your eyes in his direction.

"He's the one that started it..." you exclaim your side for the umpteenth time. Rossi's expression doesn't morph, but there is a bit of disappointment swimming in his eyes. It makes you avert your gaze quickly, you could feel the first pinpricks of guilt slicing at you. "It's true." you insist. Rossi waves a tired hand at you, ushering you to proceed, and you find yourself grateful for the chance to vent.

Everyone else knew too much about the behind the scenes to let you get a word in edgewise. Rossi was basically a clean slate. "If he knew all along, what he thinks he knows..." you stop long enough to look towards the kitchenette. He's still there, which is a relief, you'd be pissed if somehow he managed to overhear this. "Then why would he come over here and flaunt it. Was he trying to rub it in?" you demand.

Silly you for thinking that Rossi would be any less on your ass than the rest of the team. He was David Rossi after all, one of the founders of the BAU, a smart man that could read you like a picture book. "You finished?" he asks, and your mouth parts. You weren't finished, but you don't tell him that, he looked like he was ready to lecture. You offer a curt nod, and he hums under his breath.

"What exactly were you expecting from him, Y/N?" he asks, and you blanche. You weren't expecting anything, you'd never expected anything from Spencer. "I mean just stick with me here... put yourself in his shoes for one second." he prompts, and you huff. Those were big shoes, probably uncomfortable. Still, you play along as you wait for Rossi to proceed. "Would you wait around for two years for someone to finally realize that they want to be with you?" he asks.

You hope that it's rhetorical, because the answer for you was probably a lot different than the one he was expecting. You also feel the urge to correct him, you didn't take two years to figure out you liked him, you'd known since your first day. Your issue was verbalizing it, because you cared about your bond. Spencer was nice, he was the sweetest person you'd ever met. You liked seeing him get excited about the things no one else seemed to care about. He was different.

He was your friend, and you had always admired him.

"I wasn't making him wait..." you voice the correction. "And I didn't need time to realize anything..." you trail off, and realization seems to set in for Rossi. He sighs deeply, head shaking as you continue on your tangent. "I liked him back when all the girls in the unit still looked at him like he was some freak, and I'm not saying it entitles me to anything... I'm the dummy for being a chicken, but he didn't have to be so mean." and you're certain that's the root of it all.

Your feelings were hurt.

"Ah, well haven't you heard? Boys are quite stupid." Rossi offers, and you think he only said it to get you to laugh. It works, because you do chuckle, and it makes Dave's shoulders relax just slightly. "Talk to him, Y/N." he presses, and you find yourself looking across the bullpen. "It's the right thing to do." and you know he's right. "And who knows, it might even wind up being for the best." he offers, and you blanch. You nod your head, and Rossi beams proudly.

"You're right." you agree audibly, and you're fidgeting in your chair.

"You are coming this Friday aren't you?" Rossi pries, and you've gone nonverbal, head nodding once more as he mimics your action. "See if you guys can't get this squared away before then, won't you?" he asks, and he's leaving you with a gentle pat on the shoulder. You stare after Rossi with a mixture of disdain and appreciation. Leave it to the old man to get you off your ass. Your eyes are drawn to Spencer as he draws closer, you know he's not coming to you.

It was a byproduct of your desk location, but it wouldn't hurt to use it to your advantage. When he's within earshot, you take the first step. "Spence?" you try, and you expect him to ignore you, to keep walking like the sassy bastard that he is, but he shocks you. He seems to mirror your feelings with his own surprised expression. "Can we talk?" you try, and it's the cliche thing... but you don't have it in you to be poetic. He stops abruptly, head nodding stiffly as he does so.

You feel like you need to stand up, having him stand over you feels too much like you're being cornered or something of the sort. He takes a small step back when you do so though, and the tension seems to only grow tenfold. You mask your disappointment in his retreat easily, instead standing up a bit straighter, sticking your chin out as you prepare to bite the bullet and be the bigger woman. It was utterly humiliating having to bring yourself back to Earth like this.

"Sure." he finally verbally answers your question, you take that as a cue to get on with it. Your patience for back and forth seemed almost as thin as his.

"Maybe it's three weeks too late..." you begin, and his eyebrows furrow. "And I know we've got this new rhythm of pretending we don't exist to each other," and his face betrays how wrong he finds that statement. His face pinches up like he's smelled something bad, and he wants to remind you that the only reason you hadn't spoken was because you hadn't had the guts to own up to the fact that you had feelings for him, but he digresses. He wasn't here to pick a fight.

"But, I'm sorry...." you spit the apology out and it feels hollow. You know you have to do better, so you proceed before he can shoot you a disapproving glance. "I really am." you insist, and despite the fact that you had only just begun to feel guilty about the whole thing in the last few minutes, you meant it. "I never should've acted like that, and I never should have let this go on for so long." you express.

Across the bullpen, Rossi, Penelope, Derek, and Emily are huddled up watching the exchange, not so discreetly. You're none the wiser to your growing audience, but Spencer sees them clearly. Not that they were really aiming for subtlety. "It's not my business what you do outside of work or who you do it with." and your nose curls, mostly because you want it to be your business. You want to be valid in your aggravation, more than that you wanted to be his. How annoying.

Your leg starts to shake just barely, and you look like you'll crumble to the ground at any moment. Spencer notices all of these ticks, and stores them into the part of his brain that's full of things specific to you. "So I'm sorry that I was being a jerk." you offer, and Spencer's face doesn't show any signs of whether or not he believed you, so you continue. "I'm happy for you." you clear your throat, and feel embarrassment setting in.

"Thanks, Y/N." his head tips to the right as he appraises you, his eyes narrowing slightly as he takes you in. It's not a menacing sort of glance. He seemed to be waiting for something else, you weren't sure what more could be put into your apology, there was no way you were about to give an outright confession, that'd be humiliating. Instead, you avert your gaze, and it seems to be enough of an answer to whatever internal question he had. "That actually means a lot."

You don't smile, mostly because you're not sure what the actually means, he seems to notice the way your expression changes just slightly, and he's quick to correct himself.

"I just mean that your approval does mean a lot to me." he says, and you relax. You can't quite beam, you're still not up for it, but you offer a small smile, one that could count more as a grimace than anything else, but you weren't in the headspace to monitor your facial expressions. You were growing bothered all over again, and you had to do everything in your power to ensure that this time things didn't end with another three-week break between you and Spencer.

"Really?"

Spencer's nose curls now, he's an expressive guy. His facials said a lot more than his words could at times, and you note that this particular expressions reads somewhere between confused and surprised. Those were almost synonyms in the grand scheme of things, right? "Is that a real question?" Spencer asks, and despite the tension that hung over you at the start of the conversation, with this question you witness the way his guard drops. It was liberating in a way.

"I asked it didn't I?" you quip, but there's no real bite behind your words. Spencer seems to note this, lips pressing together firmly.

"You're important to me." he promises, and you hate that his first reaction is to validate you. Your anxiety-riddled mind would convince you that he secretly thought you were fishing for praise, which was the farthest thing from the truth. Still, you love Spencer, platonically and otherwise, and you're certain that's why you're mimicking his words back to him so quickly.

"You're important to me too."

He takes a second to stare at you, and you stare right back. You're careful not to show any signs of timidity or awkwardness, things were finally starting to look up. "I..." he begins, and you stay silent to allow him the time he needs to get whatever was on his chest off. "I'm sorry." he says, and you're surprised. It was the last thing you'd expected from this conversation, you're certain your surprise is evident plain as day on your face.

"Yeah?" you feel it's only fair to press him onward.

"Jealous little girl." he cringes as he repeats it, and you wince because it still hurts. "That was-" he shakes his head. "It was out of line. Plain and simple, I guess I was just a little frustrated, but that's not your fault. It wasn't fair of me to come at you in that way." he begins to ramble. "I wouldn't want you to feel... mocked or belittled by me." and you blink. Mostly because that was exactly how you had felt, but how did he know. It's then that you finally feel the beady-eyed stares.

You look over your shoulder just in time to witness the group dispersing, Penelope grasping a file in her hand as she scurried in the opposite direction. Derek picking up a file folder, and Emily focusing all her attention on the drink sloshing around her mug. You really hate profilers, this is the loudest thought in your head as you turn back to Spencer. "It doesn't matter if I felt justified then, or even if I feel justified about it now." and it makes you snort.

Classic Spence.

"D-Do you forgive me? Are we okay?" he asks, and his voice has grown a bit fainter. If you listen hard enough you hear the echoes of the Spencer you first met. Even with all his strides, and the confidence he gained, there was still that small part of him that felt like the nerdy boy that everyone overlooked. The one that talked too much, and was constantly silenced with looks or snide remarks whenever he rambled for too long about some niche subject.

You think this train of thought is what gets you to see Rossi's point of view. And who were you to get in the way of someone who clearly was ready for someone as amazing as Spencer. You didn't know much about the woman, aside from the fact that she was constantly making coffee, and staring at Spencer. You didn't know how long she'd worked at the bureau, you didn't even know her name, but you knew that she was brave. She knew what she wanted and got it.

Unlike you.

You suppose 'snooze you lose' is your burden to carry from this ordeal. At least you'd gotten your friend back though. And that was enough, it could be anyway. You nod your head at his question, offering a half smile. "We're okay, Spence." you promise, and he seems relieved. His smile is one of those rare ones, the gorgeous kind that Spencer reserved for special occasions. He then visibly and audibly lets out a quiet sound of relief, and it makes you relax.

"Hey, Spence, can I get your help?" JJ is calling, and your pulled from your bubble. The world is still spinning, there's still work to do, pressing matters that needed your attention. You felt a little lighter, offering another half smile as he offers you a sheepish glance. He's heading towards JJ as you sit back down at your desk. Your leg bounces despite the perceived 'win'. It only takes you a moment to wonder why, reality sets in, and you realize your shortcomings.

You'd failed the test twice.

Twice you'd had the chance to be the most open and honest with Spencer, only to let your nerves or fear of rejection get in the way. The jealousy is gone now though, instead replaced with a brief feeling of self-aggravation. You hear Dave's stern voice in your head. 'Talk to him, Y/N.' and you frown. Hadn't that been what you'd done? You'd talked to him, so why did you still feel so bummed.

Why don't you just talk to the guy? Look him in the eye and tell him straight up how you're feeling? Derek's question from three weeks prior slaps you like a ton of bricks. You supposed that was the end goal, wasn't it? The only way to relieve yourself of all this anxiety and all the big feelings you were having a hard time digesting. You're back to pouting, mostly because you've got no idea where to start.

You pick up one of your files, and flip it open, hoping to bury yourself in work. Every time your mind tried to stray to Spencer or your feelings, you'd switch files, until all twenty-five on your desk had a dent in them. Your hand was cramped, and you know that soon enough you'll need a cup of coffee. Emily approaches your desk, hands centered as she leans forward, eyes right on you.

"So how did it go?" she asks, and you cut your eyes at her. "Tension's all gone, so it must have gone well, right?" she's grinning down at you. "I told you if you told him the truth, you'd have nothing to worry about." Emily proceeds, and you're shaking your head back and forth.

"Emily... Emily, no!" you exclaim, and her smile drops.

"No? What do you mean, no?" she demands as you exhale.

"I still haven't told him, and I'd really appreciate it, if you'd lower your voice." you hiss as she pouts. "Maybe it's just not supposed to be." you shrug, and Emily looks visibly disgruntled with your thoughts. "I'm just saying... we're okay, because we apologized." you explain. "I don't want to risk making it awkward again, because I think I have feelings." and now you're being purposely dismissive.

"Oh, so now you're not sure?" Emily questions, and then she's clicking her tongue against her teeth. "No. I don't buy that." she denies, and she's stern, but discrete. "Don't do this, Y/N. Don't be that girl." she pleads. "There's nothing worse than regret. It eats at you until there's nothing left, you don't want to look back, and think 'what if!'" and that's twice you're hearing something of the sort. Wasn't there some quote about hearing important things twice? You're not sure.

"If you like him-" she pauses, head still shaking from side to side. "If you love him... like it seems, you owe it to yourself to tell him. What's the worst thing that could happen?" she questions, and you scoff. "No, realistically." she insists. "Realistically tell me what the worst thing could be? And not from that place where your irrational fears sit." she deadpans, and you feel attacked, it makes you look away.

"In the two years of you knowing Reid, do you actually think that he's the kind of guy to break you down to nothing if he doesn't feel the same?" she asks, and the answer when presented to you like this is no. "So tell me what it is that you're really scared of?" she presses, and you don't understand why everyone's so worked up over this. Why the whole unit seemed to be invested in you expressing your feelings.

"I don't want to mess it up..." you shrug your shoulders. "I don't want to make it weird." you offer, and Emily's unmoved by your answer.

"You managed to do that without saying a thing." she retorts, and you feel like you've got no room to speak, no voice to rebuttal with. "Let me be your shrink for a second." Emily is your friend for moments like these, where her clear allegiance to you shines through. "Talk to me." she prompts.

"Why are you so invested in this?" you inquire. "Why does it even matter?" you huff.

"Because it matters to you." she answers. "What? You didn't know that's how this team works?" she asks, and you huff out a puff of air through your nose. "This isn't about us playing matchmaker... it's about you realizing that you've got a few bad beliefs about romance... and friendships.... and relationships that are going to keep you all by yourself if you don't start speaking your mind." she shrugs.

"And despite the way you curl into yourself back here at your desk, we both know you don't really want to be alone." and you think you might cry, it makes you wince. "You owe it to yourself to try, but ultimately the decision is all yours. I just think you'll feel better if you take Reid aside, and tell him the truth about how you feel." she seems done, and you don't know how to respond. Emily pats your shoulder as she rounds your desk, before heading back across the unit.

You really hate profilers.

By the time you're heading home for the night, you and Spencer hadn't spoken again. You'd been so buried in work that you'd skipped lunch to get things done. You'd gotten a comment from Hotch about that, wondering if you were feeling alright. You knew that he knew the truth, even as you told him a fib. Hotch though, was discrete enough not to make you feel scrutinized by exposing just how obvious you were. You couldn't get Emily's words out of your head.

You didn't feel angry with her, and your embarrassment had managed to go away within the first forty minutes after she'd left you alone. You knew she was right, but it still didn't make things easier. It was almost like you forgot how to speak whenever the time came to really express yourself. You supposed that was why your apology had been so flat. Feelings weren't your strong suit, and you'd learned to express them by lashing out. A less than healthy way to live.

You liked that the team didn't speak to you like a child or treat you like you were incapable. Instead, they talked to you like an adult, gave the truth to you in a way that sliced through all your stubbornness and attitude. As you head towards the elevator, you hear footsteps, and look just in time to see Spencer making his way towards you. His satchel hangs off his shoulder, and he looks relieved, an emotion that you knew all too well by the end of a work shift.

You hoped there wouldn't be any cases that drug you back to the unit, all you wanted was a shower and a nap in your own bed.

Stepping into the elevator, Spencer trails you. He takes one side of the elevator, while you huddle up in the other. He offers you a tired smile as the doors slide closed, you offer him a smile right back. It's weary, mostly because you were drained, but partly, because Spencer had been the object of your thoughts the entire day. Especially after Emily's blunt speech. You were drained. The anxiety of keeping the secret far outweighed any fear of rejection now.

"Hey, are you alright?" he addresses you, after noticing the way you seemed lost in your head.

"Hmm?" you hum, and he repeats himself. It snaps you out of your mind spiral, and your head nods. A lie. "I'm all good, Spence." you reply, and he looks disappointed, but not surprised. "Thanks for asking though." you add a second after, and he offers you a dry little nod of his head. The elevator is back silent, and you hope the doors open quick. You might drown if the tension grew any thicker.

"I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable." he says, and you blank. Your confusion is clear as day on your face. "Earlier..." and your still not understanding. "I wasn't telling you that you were important to me, because I was expecting anything in return." he explains, and it clicks. "If it made you feel weird, I'm sorry. It just felt like the right way to express my point then." he proceeds, and you don't know how to collect yourself. "So, I'm sorry." and you want to scream.

Mostly at yourself for being so infuriatingly inadequate at expressing your thoughts and feelings.

"If you want, we could just pretend I never said anything?" he offers, and you don't answer quick enough. The elevator slides open just as the words are settling inside your head, and he's stepping out into the parking deck without another word. You sit there in the elevator for a moment, the door sliding shut after a moment, but you don't move. You feel like you're at a crossroads, almost at a point of no return. If you let Spencer leave now... like this, there would be no coming back.

There would be no room to gain some balls later, and try again. It wouldn't be fair to him. It wouldn't be fair to yourself.

You feel like hyperventilating, thoughts everywhere. Love had never been a subject you really understood. You'd always sort of saw it as this concrete construct. Unchangeable, always either black or white. A gloomy, gray, existence that could cut you up and spit you out. Love could turn you into a hollow version of who you once were. Love could break you down, and make you nothing. But then you think of your team. JJ and Penelope, Hotch, Dave, Emily, Derek. Spencer.

They were the rarest and purest examples of love in your day-to-day life, weren't they? You'd never quite met anyone who had your back more than your team. They fought for you, they fought with you. They believed in you, pushed you to be the best you that you could be. So why was it so hard, what were you scared of? Was it the notion of getting Spencer, and staining him? Blowing out that light inside him the way you'd witnessed for so long?

Was that a life worth living? Was it a chance you could take?

And then you huff, because damnit... you were tired of waiting. You were tired of anxiety, and uncertainty, and insecurity, and pain. You're certain that is why you hit the button to open the elevator. Gracefulness is not on your side as you practically sprint out into the car park, your eyes scanning hopefully for the familiar silhouette of your friend. When you spot him, you release a quiet noise of relief. "S-Spencer!" you hear the echo from your shout, and cringe.

But it doesn't matter, because he turns, he stops, and he's looking at you. His eyebrows are raised, hands gripping his bag, as you start to run. You ignore your fatigue, and your desire to run and hide, and instead run towards something for once. You don't stop running until you're past the point of 'personal space', you want to hover, you want to be in his space, because it was the only way you could possibly get through this. He looks a bit unsure, and still a bit grumpy.

You hope by the end of this that's no longer the case.

"Spencer, I don't want to forget about what you said." you're trying to catch your breath, bouncing up on your heels. "I don't want to pretend you never said it." you add, and Spencer's surprised expression has the hairs on your arm and neck ready to stand on end. "I-I actually want to know what you meant." you admit. "Because, I know what I meant when I said it... and it's not something that I take back." you express, and you can hear blood rushing in your ears.

"What did you mean?" Spencer asks, and you blanche.

"I asked you first." the obvious retort, and Spencer exhales loudly, but there's no annoyance, no exasperation. Only amusement, like always.

"I've done enough talking, haven't I?" he asks. "I want to know what you're thinking." and his voice is so soft, full of tenderness that you feel like you're being serenaded. You feel like you've got a knot in your throat also, almost like you'll suffocate if you don't get your thoughts out. "I promise I won't leave you hanging." and you're not sure what he means by that, but it helps. It makes your heart stutter-step, and you need to catch your breath, because you can't believe this is actually happening, or that you're actually here.

"I-" you play withy your fingers, and you have to inhale deeply to ensure you don't chicken out. "Spence, I didn't tell you that you were important to me, because you said it first." you promise, and he nods, but he doesn't say anything. His eyes are syrupy, alluring, and beautiful, still twinkling under the dingy, flickering lights of the parking deck. "I said it because you're all I really think about." you admit, and his eyebrows furrow, and you're scared.

"And the last three weeks... I've been so mad at you." you blurt out. "I was the one that acted like a child, but I was angry with you, because I thought that you were making fun of me... and all the feelings I have for you." you exhale, and you look down at the ground, because the nerves that come with your words are overwhelming. "I was jealous, I acted like a child, but it was only because I thought you were rubbing it in my face... I thought you were being cruel."

Spencer's long lashes blink rapidly, but he's still stone silent. Probably because he knows that you're still not done. "And that wasn't fair of me, because I know you, Spence. You're not that type of person, but I just I couldn't reign myself in, and I acted immaturely because I was scared... and then just now, in the elevator... I almost did it again. I almost let you think that I don't care about you... but I do. Spencer, I have feelings for you." and you clear your throat, legs shaking.

"I'm in love with you, and I'm not... this isn't some trick or ploy or cry for help. I understand if you're mind is elsewhere... and I'm so sorry if the way I've been acting ruined everything, but I-I love you okay? That's what this has all been about. I'm sorry it took me so long to say something, but there it is." and you gasp, chest heaving now that you were finished. You finally look up at Spencer again, and he's staring you down. It doesn't feel hypersexual or heady with tension.

Instead, it's like the first intake of air into your lungs after being under water for so long. You supposed that's what the truth did, you supposed that's what your feelings for Spencer did when you allowed them to exist. "You mean that?" he asks, and you huff.

"Of course, I mean it. I mean it so much, I think I'm going to be sick." and despite himself he laughs, a bright beam following after it. He takes a small step towards you, and you feel crowded, the body heat from you both warming you up from the inside out. Still, despite how outwardly calm he looked in comparison to you, you managed to spot the shyness, the anxiety that rested in his own eyes. He looked unsure, almost like he was being careful not to ruin the moment.

"Do you know how long I've been wanting to hear you say that?" he asks, and you're shocked, stuck, surprised. You don't know if this is in your mind or if you just got lucky. "Have you ever-" he's got this gleeful look on his face. "There's this quote by Lao Tzu..." he stammers, "Love is of all passions the strongest, for it attacks simultaneously the head, the heart, and the senses." he quotes, and there are no butterflies... you think that might be a good thing.

"I don't know if there's been a time since I met you that you haven't been on my mind." Spencer explains, and there it is. "I think that's why I snapped the way I did, I don't think I ever imagined a scenario where we'd be here." he admits, and it pains you to know that he thought that way. "It was-" he motions between you both. "The thought of us being something was sort of just something I believed would always sort of just be a thought." Spencer's glowing red.

The blush coats his ears, cheeks, nose, and neck. His eyes are brighter, and his hands twitch at his side, almost like he's restraining himself. You think you only notice, because you're doing the same.

"I want to be with you." he says this so faintly you're almost unsure you heard him correctly. Your eyes widen, and your surprise is obvious. He takes a small step forward, and he's crowding you. It's nothing like the movies, in fact, the closer he gets to you, the more you're able to see the shyness in his eyes. He reaches out, and his hand ghosts over your side.

"Spence-" and the you that you were just an hour earlier, the one too scared to tell him the truth almost feels like she never even existed.

"Can I?" he asks, and your eyes drift to his hands that are inching closer to your body. You nod your head quickly, and he doesn't look amused. "I want to hear you." he says quietly. "I want you to tell me that I can." he adds, and you find yourself nodding anyway.

"Y-You can." you promise. "But I don't want you to pretend." his eyebrows furrow again. "Please don't do this if you don't mean it." you say, and Spencer's hands drop to your side, there's no wandering fingers, in fact it feels like he wanted to touch you for the sole purpose of keeping you from shaking any longer.

"Y/N, I want to be with you." he repeats it more firmly this time, and he's looking directly at you. It's intense, the eye contact more than anything else. He sounds sincere, and that makes you nervous.

"But what about..." and you trail off, because you don't know what to label the pretty woman he'd been entertaining. Spencer chuckles quietly, and his head shakes from side to side.

"She was nice." he reiterates the words he'd said three weeks prior. "But, she's not you... I don't think anyone would've been able to fill your shoes." he says, and you squeeze your eyes closed, because God, Spencer was so good with words. His hands are on your face, brushing at your cheeks as you shed a few long overdue tears. "Are these happy tears?" he asks hopefully, and your eyes shoot open. Your head nods, and you're not sure why you're so quiet.

Maybe, because life had thrown a curveball and surprised you in a good way. "Happy tears." you agree, and he presses his lips together, thumbs still working to keep the tears at bay. "I just can't believe-"

"Please do." he cuts you off, before you can get it out. "Believe this, believe me." he almost begs, and you hum. "Can I kiss you?" he asks, and you don't answer him, instead you surge forward and press your lips to his. You're certain security is getting a full view of the action, Spencer kisses like he wants to inhale you, and it's nice.. It's more than nice, his kisses are surged with emotion, every ounce of affection that his words had been drenched in was felt in the kiss.

Had breathing not been a factor, you might have stayed there. When you pull back to inhale, Spencer's got this twinkle in his eye that makes your nose scrunch up. "What?" you press, and he grins at you.

"You love me..." he breathes it out, and you're not sure if he's stating it or asking, but you suppose now that the cat's out of the bag, saying it again is nothing.

"Yeah. I love you, Spence." you promise, and he's quick to lean in and peck you on the lips. "D'you love me too?" you ask, once he's pulled back, and his hands move up, cupping both sides of your face as he drags his thumbs up and down.

"I love you." and it sounds like a promise.

So you believe him.

"It’s a profoundly strange feeling, to stumble across someone whose desires are shaped so closely to your own, like reaching toward your reflection in a mirror and finding warm flesh under your fingertips. If you should ever be lucky enough to find that magical, fearful symmetry, I hope you’re brave enough to grab it with both hands and not let go.” ― Alix E. Harrow

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