#and there's just something about that that's both heartbreaking and strangely... soothing

[tessabennet]

What fucks me up about I Can't Help But Wonder is that Odysseus, the man who has had the longest 20 years in known history, took one look at his grown up son and still said "how time has flown". Like. That just strikes me as such a PARENT thing to say, you know?

[seokwrts]

I LIKE ME BETTER | jjk

PART ONE

summary : After walking in on her boyfriend Sanho cheating, Y/N moves out and ends up living with Jungkook, a cocky yet caring acquaintance she once couldn’t stand. What begins as a tense, passive-aggressive roommates situation slowly transforms into something deeper, as both navigate heartbreak, vulnerability, and emotional healing. Through stormy nights, late-night confessions, domestic routines, and quiet tension, Y/N and Jungkook gradually uncover the warmth and safety they’ve both been missing—especially in each other.

“After all, what’s the worst that could happen just living under the same roof?”

pairing : jeon jungkook x f!reader

genre : roommates , fluff , smut

word count : 4.5k

warnings : Explicit. This story contains sexual content, explicit language, and themes of emotional trauma. Expect a roommates-to-lovers slow burn with intense enemies-to-lovers tension, mutual pining, and eventual smut. Features include domestic intimacy, past cheating, emotional hurt/comfort, and lots of kitchen tension. There’s jealousy, unresolved sexual tension, first times, comfort sex, and characters who are both emotionally guarded and touch-starved.

The toothbrush was still in the cup.

His shirt still hung on the back of the chair.

The vanilla candle she’d lit two nights ago still flickered faintly in the corner, scenting the room with a memory it no longer deserved.

Everything looked the same—everything but him.

Sanho.

On the couch. Shirtless. Laughing. Arms draped around a girl who wasn’t her.

The same girl from his contact list—the one she had once asked about during a quiet dinner, wine glass in hand and something unsettled in her voice.

“She’s just a friend, babe.”

That girl now sat nestled into him like she belonged there.

Like Y/N had never existed.

His hand was resting on the small of the girl’s back, thumb moving in slow, familiar circles.

The way he used to touch Y/N when he was trying to soothe her. Calm her. Keep her.

And for a moment, all she could do was stand there—motionless, silent, keys still clenched between white knuckles, while the ground crumbled beneath her.

She didn’t scream.

Didn’t cry.

Didn’t even blink, not right away.

It was strange, how pain like that didn’t make noise.

It just sat inside your chest like a heavy, rotting secret.

He saw her. The laughter stopped.

His head snapped toward the door. His expression flickered—first confusion, then horror, then that awful, choking guilt she’d seen before.

A crack formed in the perfect little mask he wore for everyone else.

But not for her.

Never for her.

“Y/N—” he breathed.

She could’ve unleashed everything in her. All the rage, the heartbreak, the months of second-guessing herself.

She could’ve screamed “How fucking long?”

She could’ve marched over and thrown his stupid records off the shelves or smashed his phone into the floor.

But she didn’t.

She just looked at him, like she was seeing him for the first time. And maybe she was.

“No.”

That was all she said.

One syllable. Low. Final.

It wasn’t a cry. It wasn’t a plea. It was a closed door. A lock snapping shut. A full stop at the end of a love story that never should’ve started.

Sanho stood quickly, the girl still tangled in his lap scrambling to fix her top. “Wait—wait, baby, just—just listen for a sec, it’s not what it looks like—”

Not what it looks like?

God, he had the fucking audacity to pull that line?

She turned on her heel without another word. Walked out, heart caving in her chest, jaw tight, eyes dry.

Not because she wasn’t hurting.

But because she’d already cried enough for him in all the nights she waited for his texts, all the mornings she woke up feeling like a ghost in her own bed.

Each step was a scream she didn’t let out.

And when she closed the door behind her—it wasn’t a slam. No rage. No theatrical heartbreak.

Just a soft, measured click.

But it sounded more like a funeral.

𓏔 🪑 ✿🥛🐈

She didn’t remember how long she walked.

Through the streets of Seoul, neon buzzing overhead, air thick with the smell of late-night food stalls and engine fumes.

She barely noticed the music thumping from passing bars, the chatter of couples holding hands. It all moved around her like she didn’t exist.

Her feet took her to the only place that didn’t feel like a lie: the Han River.

She sat on a cold metal bench near the edge, the water stretching wide and black in front of her. Quiet.

Still.

Unbothered by her tiny, shattered world.

She stared at it until her eyes stung, until the city behind her dimmed and the ache in her chest throbbed like something alive.

And still, she didn’t cry.

Because fuck him.

Because crying was what she did before—when she thought she was losing something real. Now she knew better.

He wasn’t worth the tears.

He wasn’t worth any of it.

𓏔 🪑 ✿🥛🐈

Her phone vibrated once. Then again. Then again. The texts came in waves, each one more pathetic than the last.

Sanho [7:14PM]

Please just talk to me.

Sanho [8:02PM]

You’re overreacting. It didn’t mean anything.

Sanho [10:17PM]

I messed up, okay? I’ll fix it. We can fix it.

Sanho [1:03AM]

Do you really want to throw away everything we had?

She turned the screen off. Tossed the phone beside her on the bench like it was diseased.

Everything we had?

He threw it away the second his lips found another neck.

When his fingers moved across that girl’s skin like Y/N never even existed.

Fuck him.

𓏔 🪑 ✿🥛🐈

The next morning, she moved like a machine.

No tears. No music. Just packing.

The room looked like someone else had lived in it. Her clothes in the closet. Her books on the shelves. Her green Jeju mug by the window.

That mug.

He bought it during their trip. Said it reminded him of her eyes.

Now it just looked like bullshit.

She left it behind.

She didn’t leave a note. Didn’t say goodbye. Didn’t even text. She just grabbed her duffel, wheeled her suitcase through the quiet hallway, and shut the door on two years of her life like it was nothing.

Because in the end, that’s what it had meant to him.

Nothing.

𓏔 🪑 ✿🥛🐈

Her best friend let her crash on a futon in her tiny studio for two nights. It smelled like ramen and floor cleaner. The radiator was broken. But it was safe.

She barely ate. Barely slept.

Mostly just lay there, wondering how she could feel so hollow and still so heavy at the same time.

By the third morning, the ache in her chest had calcified into something solid.

She picked up her phone and started searching. No more waiting. No more sleeping in someone else’s corner.

She needed a place that was hers—even if it was small, even if it was broken, even if it was shared.

That’s when she found it.

Available Immediately:

Two-bedroom apartment in Hongdae. Quiet area. Natural light. “Character.”

Shared with one existing tenant. No pets. 500k deposit. Rent negotiable.

She didn’t think. She just called.

By noon, she’d toured it.

By 3 p.m., the lease was signed.

“Roommate’s already living there,” the landlady warned as she handed over the keycard and a scribbled door code. Her voice was dry, not unkind, just matter-of-fact. “Keeps to himself mostly. Don’t worry, he’s not a creep.”

Y/N blinked, the key cold in her palm. “That’s… comforting?”

The woman shrugged, already turning back toward her office. “You’ll be fine, sweetheart. Just don’t touch his guitar.”

That was all she got.

No photo.

No proper introduction.

Just a number, a code, and a list of passive-aggressive post-its waiting for her future.

And frankly, Y/N wasn’t in the mood to care.

𓏔 🪑 ✿🥛🐈

The hallway leading to the apartment smelled faintly like burnt coffee and wet paint. The kind of scent that lingered in buildings where the rent was just low enough to make you tolerate it, and just high enough to remind you you’re still paying to suffer.

She reached the door, punched in the code with a sigh, and stepped inside.

The scent of incense hit her first—smoky, musky, like sandalwood and something a little bitter underneath. Then came the sound: a bassline vibrating low through the walls, like a heartbeat that didn’t know how to settle.

Then came the sight.

The apartment was chaos—but the curated kind. Lived-in, but not messy. Controlled disarray.

Posters were pinned crookedly to the walls—bands she vaguely recognized, some in English, others in Hangul scrawled like graffiti. A guitar leaned lazily against a chair that had seen better days. Ashtrays were used as coin trays. Open sketchbooks were scattered across the coffee table, some smudged with what looked like ink, charcoal, or maybe just frustration.

A used hoodie hung off one kitchen stool. A half-empty mug sat beside a tub of protein powder on the counter. A neon sign buzzed quietly from behind the curtain—something about “love” and “ruin” in script too artsy to read clearly.

And then there was him.

Standing in front of the sink, a spoon in his mouth and zero fucks in his eyes.

Black hair, loose waves, half tied back like he couldn’t be bothered to fully commit to a man bun. Sleeves rolled up just enough to show off inked forearms—swirls and lines that disappeared beneath the fabric. Headphones hung around his neck. His shirt was half-unbuttoned. A silver lip ring caught the light as he chewed on a piece of gum and gave her the kind of look people gave cold coffee.

“You’re the replacement?” he asked, voice flat, tone somewhere between suspicion and boredom.

Y/N blinked once. Twice.

Okay. This was happening.

“Roommate,” she corrected, hoisting her duffel a little higher on her shoulder. “Not intern. Or a stray cat, in case that’s where your brain went.”

He let out a short, humorless laugh, like she’d told a bad joke. “Could’ve fooled me.”

“Wow,” she muttered under her breath, stepping inside. “Aren’t you just a warm fucking welcome.”

He didn’t respond, just moved back to the counter, rummaging through a drawer like she wasn’t still standing there with exhaustion weighing down every limb.

She set her bags down slowly, deliberately. The hardwood creaked under her boots.

Why do all men either cheat on you or treat you like you’re a Netflix error message?

Her thoughts were rapid fire now.

Cool. Love this. Love being ignored in my own new place. Love living with an angsty fucking album cover.

Her voice was sharp when she spoke again. “I’m Y/N.”

He glanced over his shoulder, didn’t smile. “Jungkook.”

No handshake. No nod. No “nice to meet you.”

Just silence.

Awkward, stretched-thin silence filled by the sound of rain tapping against the windows and the low thrum of music still playing from his speaker.

She crossed her arms, taking him in more fully now that the shock had dulled slightly.

He wasn’t ugly—fuck, no, he was objectively hot. Like, Pinterest thirst-board hot. But that didn’t matter. He had that specific brand of “I don’t give a shit” energy that instantly made her teeth itch.

“Are you always this friendly or am I just lucky?” she asked.

He shrugged, barely looking up. “I don’t do the whole ‘bonding’ thing.”

“Oh, I figured,” she said, kicking off her shoes and toeing them toward the rack. “It was either that or you’re just socially constipated.”

That got a twitch out of his lip. Almost a smirk.

“Bathroom’s down the hall,” he said. “Other bedroom’s at the end. Don’t touch my speakers.”

“Don’t touch my shampoo,” she shot back. “It’s imported and I will know.”

“Noted.”

She rolled her eyes and picked up her duffel, trudging toward the hallway. “This is gonna be fucking great,” she muttered.

𓏔 🪑 ✿🥛🐈

Her room was fine.

Small. Clean. Sunlight filtered in through sheer curtains. A bare mattress on a low platform bed. A single window facing the building across the street.

It smelled like dust and old wood and hope. Or maybe that last part was just wishful thinking.

She collapsed onto the mattress with a groan, staring at the ceiling like it held answers. It didn’t.

Jesus fucking Christ, she thought, one arm flung across her forehead. What kind of rom-com bullshit did I just sign up for?

“Hot, tattooed roommate” was supposed to be fantasy material—not her rebound reality.

Her stomach twisted. Not because of Jungkook. Because of Sanho.

Her chest still ached, but in a dull, hollow way now—like something removed too fast. The kind of pain you couldn’t cry about anymore because you’d already cried yourself dry.

“You’re not gonna fucking think about him again,” she told herself out loud. “We are not doing the Sad Girl Shit tonight. We’re a new bitch now. A bitch with rent.”

She got up and started unpacking with mechanical force, slamming drawers open and folding clothes like they owed her money.

𓏔 🪑 ✿🥛🐈

Later that night, she emerged from her room in pajama shorts and a hoodie, hunting for food and maybe—God forbid—some civility.

Jungkook was shirtless now, sprawled on the couch with his sketchpad on his lap, a pencil moving quickly between his fingers. Headphones in. Eyes sharp. Jaw tense.

Jesus. Okay, he really is hot. Dammit.

She cleared her throat. “Hey. Kitchen’s fair game, right?”

He didn’t answer.

She repeated louder, “I said, kitchen’s fair game?”

He finally glanced up and yanked one side of his headphones off. “Why are you yelling?”

“Because you have the fucking sound barrier on your head.”

He blinked at her. Then nodded toward the fridge. “Go ahead.”

She flipped him off under her breath and went to dig through the fridge. Not much. Leftover tteokbokki. Half a bottle of Coke. Three cans of beer. Protein shakes.

She grabbed the beer.

Popped it open.

Took a long sip.

Jungkook spoke from the couch. “So… what’s your deal?”

Y/N turned, beer in hand, leaning against the fridge like a soap opera villain. “You mean, why did a broken, emotionally wrecked woman move into a grunge boy’s apartment instead of therapy?”

He smiled. Just a little. “Something like that.”

She took another swig. “Ex-boyfriend. Cheated. Ate shit. I moved out.”

“Damn,” he said, pencil still moving. “What a guy.”

“Oh, he’s a fucking treasure. You’d love him. The human equivalent of a softboiled egg with an Instagram account.”

That made him laugh. A real one this time.

And it hit her harder than she expected.

Something about the way he laughed—low, sudden, surprised—like he hadn’t done it in a while.

Jungkook looked up again, this time properly. “Well… welcome to hell, roommate.”

She raised her can. “Cheers to shared misery.”

Their eyes locked for a beat longer than necessary.

And that’s when she knew it.

Clear as the goddamn moon outside.

This was going to get messy.

Maybe not today. Maybe not tomorrow.

But sometime soon—between the passive-aggressive post-its, shirtless mornings, late-night sketching, and secondhand incense—

Shit was going to burn.

And Y/N?

She wasn’t sure if she wanted to stop it.

They were opposites in every imaginable way.

And not in a quirky, “wow, opposites attract!” kind of way. No. They clashed like oil and vinegar—and not the expensive kind you drizzle over artisan bread. The cheap shit. The kind that spills, stains, and smells like regret.

Y/N liked quiet mornings. Tea, calm Spotify playlists, the soft hum of her skincare fridge, the whisper of a pen against a planner.

Jungkook made protein shakes at 7 a.m. like he was competing in Seoul’s Loudest Roommate Olympics. Blender screaming. Trap music thumping. Half-naked with only a towel slung low on his hips, just to complete the auditory and visual chaos.

She took long, hot, soul-resetting showers.

He’d drum on the bathroom door with a fucking spatula if she took more than fifteen minutes. “Some of us have biceps to build!” he once shouted. She retaliated the next day by blasting Taylor Swift’s All Too Well (10 Minute Version) on loop while showering for thirty-eight minutes.

She labeled the kitchen shelves. Clearly. Systematically. With her own goddamn money.

He laughed for five straight minutes, then moved everything around like a chaotic little gremlin on a mission from hell. She nearly cried when she found the cereal in the pan drawer.

And so, they adapted.

Barely.

They communicated mostly through notes. Passive-aggressive ones, stuck to any available surface—fridge doors, cabinets, shampoo bottles, his protein powder container.

Jungkook, stop leaving your damn socks on the dining table. That’s where I eat.

→ Y/N, stop acting like the sock police. No one died.

I have class at 8 a.m. Stop screaming into your mic past midnight.

→ I’m not screaming. I’m singing. You’re welcome for the free concert.

You drank my oat milk. Again.

→ It was expiring tomorrow. You’re welcome for preventing waste.

Eat shit.

→ Already did. Thanks to your cooking.

She sometimes fantasized about moving out. A cute studio with plants. A view of the Han. A cat named Nico. No Jungkook.

He probably fantasized about roommates who didn’t color-code the pantry and leave Post-its that accused him of crimes against almond milk.

And yet… neither of them left.

Because in between the blender wars and label-maker tyranny, there were moments.

Small. Invasive. Unwelcome.

Moments that made her heart skip or her mouth press into a line. Moments she’d think about late at night when her brain wouldn’t shut the hell up.

Like the time he left tea outside her door.

She didn’t think he’d heard her crying. She’d stuffed her face into her pillow, blanket over her head, trying to muffle the sound. But he had.

There was a knock.

Then silence.

When she opened the door, a chipped mug of warm jasmine tea was waiting on the floor. Steam curled from it like something sacred. No note. No pity. Just… kindness. Quiet, unspoken kindness.

She drank it.

Didn’t say thank you. Couldn’t.

But the next morning, for the first time in weeks, she didn’t bitch about the blender.

Then there was the lamp.

Her desk lamp had fried itself mid-study session, sputtering out like her will to live. She sighed, muttered something about everything being broken, and left it.

The next morning, it was glowing. Fixed. No fanfare. Just… working.

She stared at it like it had grown legs.

“Who the fuck does that?” she whispered to no one.

Jungkook did.

She didn’t ask. Didn’t say anything. Neither did he.

And then, the worst moment. The one she couldn’t forget.

She came home early from class one afternoon, shoes in hand, and stopped in the hallway.

Jungkook was on the couch, hunched over a sketchpad, headphones in, pencil moving in soft, precise strokes. She hadn’t seen him draw before.

What made her heart jackhammer was the figure on the page.

A faceless woman, shoulders curled inward, wearing a sweater that looked exactly like hers—the oversized beige one she wore when she felt like hiding. The details were haunting. Exact. Tender.

It wasn’t just a sketch. It was a feeling. An intimacy.

She backed away before he saw her and closed herself in her room like a coward. She lay in bed and stared at the ceiling for two straight hours, cursing the weird twist in her stomach.

What the fuck was she feeling?

𓏔 🪑 ✿🥛🐈

He never asked why she moved in suddenly.

Didn’t dig, didn’t pry. No sympathy. No therapist-mode bullshit. And that somehow made her trust him more than any guy who’d said, “If you ever need to talk…”

She never asked about his bruised knuckles or the nights he came home smelling like cigarettes and adrenaline. Never questioned the darkness under his eyes.

They lived parallel lives. Same fridge. Same bathroom. Same ceilings over their separate beds. Close enough to hear each other breathe, but far enough to pretend they didn’t care.

It was limbo.

It was maddening.

It was fucking confusing.

Some nights, when the silence got too loud and her mind started spinning—

She wondered.

What would it be like to blur the lines?

To walk out when he was humming in the kitchen, hair tied up, lip ring catching the light—and just kiss him?

Not a romantic, slow kiss.

A messy, chaotic, shut-the-fuck-up kiss. Just to see. Just to know.

Would it make the tension go away? Or would it ignite it like gasoline on a match?

But she never acted on it.

Instead, she left him another Post-it:

Stop leaving your wet towel on the bathroom floor. Again.

Underneath it, scribbled smaller:

P.S. Thanks for the tea.

That night, the towel was gone.

And a new Post-it appeared on the fridge:

P.S. You’re welcome.

The next morning, she found a protein shake waiting for her on the counter.

And a note stuck to it:

Try it. Not poison. Swear. —JK

She blinked at it, then cautiously took a sip.

It was actually… good.

“Fuck,” she muttered to herself. “Of course it is.”

That night, she left him a tiny Tupperware container of her homemade kimchi fried rice with a sticky note:

Apology for calling your blender Satan.

Next morning?

Apology accepted. But Satan has better manners.

She snorted into her coffee. She didn’t know what they were now.

Enemies? Allies? Passive-aggressive friends with incredible timing?

Whatever it was, it wasn’t simple. And it sure as hell wasn’t boring.

𓏔 🪑 ✿🥛🐈

It happened one night after a storm rolled in.

The power went out. The whole building fell silent except for the rain tapping against the windows like impatient fingers.

Y/N sat on her bed in the dark, knees drawn to her chest. She hated storms. Not because of the thunder, but because it reminded her of that night—the fight before he cheated. The storm when Sanho had promised forever and gave her betrayal instead.

She didn’t cry. But her fingers clutched the blanket like it was the only thing tethering her to the earth.

There was a soft knock.

She looked up.

Jungkook stood in the doorway, shirtless, his phone flashlight casting a faint glow across his face. Shadows clung to his jaw, his collarbones slick with humidity. His usual cocky expression had been replaced with something gentler. Something careful.

“You good?” he asked, voice low, words soft like he was trying not to scare her further.

She nodded, but didn’t speak. Her throat was too tight. Her silence said more than her voice ever could.

He hesitated, shifting on his feet like he didn’t know whether to leave or stay.

Then, without a word, he stepped inside, tossed a hoodie onto the bed, and sank down beside her—back against the wall, legs stretched out. His phone light clicked off, and for a moment, they were just silhouettes in the dark.

Silent company.

She didn’t thank him.

He didn’t need her to.

“I’m not gonna cuddle you, if that’s what you’re thinking,” she muttered, trying to disguise the break in her voice with sarcasm.

He let out a low laugh. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

But he didn’t move.

They sat there. No notes. No insults. Just quiet breaths in the dark, surrounded by the storm.

She didn’t remember falling asleep, but she did—shoulder barely touching his. Something about the solid weight of him nearby. The calm of his presence when everything else was loud.

𓏔 🪑 ✿🥛🐈

Jungkook’s POV

She fell asleep against his arm.

Her breathing evened out, lashes resting against her cheek like spider silk. Soft. Peaceful. Her face, usually sharp with wit and layered defenses, looked younger in sleep. Almost fragile.

Jungkook sat still.

He hadn’t meant to come in. But when the lights went out and he saw her bedroom door cracked open—something tugged. The kind of instinct that came from watching someone suffer in silence for weeks and pretending you didn’t care.

But he did. Fuck, he did.

He told himself it was curiosity. Or maybe roommate guilt. But sitting there now, staring at her—he knew it was more.

It wasn’t just the way she looked, though she was beautiful—undeniably so, in a way that hit you slow and then all at once. It was the weight of her silence. The grief she never named. The brokenness she carried like it was her fault.

He used to think she was dramatic.

Now, he knew she was just surviving.

He leaned his head back, watching the flashes of lightning cast shadows across the ceiling. His hand twitched beside hers. He wanted to touch her. Just once. Maybe tuck her hair behind her ear. Maybe press a palm to her back and tell her she wasn’t alone.

But he didn’t.

Because he wasn’t sure he could stop at just one touch.

And then—there was a knock.

He stiffened.

Carefully, he lifted her hand from where it had slipped onto his thigh, laying it gently on the blanket. She didn’t stir.

Another knock. Louder this time.

He moved through the apartment barefoot, muscles tense, heart inexplicably pounding.

He opened the door.

A guy stood on the other side. Tall. Soaked. Hair plastered to his forehead like he’d been running through the rain. Brown leather jacket. Shifty eyes.

“Is Y/N here?” the guy asked.

Jungkook narrowed his eyes. “Who’s asking?”

“I’m Sanho.”

The name hit him like a punch to the gut. Oh.

Of course it was him.

Jungkook leaned against the doorframe, arms folded. “She’s sleeping.”

Sanho tried to peer inside. “She lives here?”

“She does.”

“With you?”

A pause. A beat.

“Yeah,” Jungkook said slowly. “With me.”

Sanho’s eyes narrowed. “Are you her boyfriend?”

The question hung in the air like a match waiting to be struck.

Jungkook’s jaw flexed. “No.”

But something in him wished he could say yes.

Sanho scoffed. “Right. Look—can you just tell her I stopped by? I didn’t know she was… living like this.”

Jungkook’s brow rose. “Living like what?”

“I mean… with some dude she barely knows? After everything? Kind of reckless, don’t you think?”

That did it.

Jungkook stepped out, pushing the door half-shut behind him.

“You don’t get to judge her,” he said, voice low and sharp. “Not after what you did.”

Sanho rolled his eyes. “It was one mistake. People cheat all the time—”

“You touched someone else while she waited for you to come home. You made her feel crazy for suspecting what she already knew. That’s not a mistake, that’s fucking manipulation.”

Sanho’s jaw clenched. “Why do you even care?”

Jungkook stepped closer.

“Because I see the way she flinches when she hears the front door open. Because she can’t walk into a storm without shaking. Because she smiles like it hurts. And you’re the reason.”

Silence.

Sanho scoffed. “You trying to be her hero now?”

“No,” Jungkook said, eyes dark. “I’m trying not to beat the shit out of the guy who broke her.”

Sanho stared him down, but he didn’t have a comeback. Just swallowed hard and turned.

“I’ll tell her you came by,” Jungkook said, stepping back inside. “But don’t come back. She’s not yours to hurt anymore.”

He shut the door. Hard.

The echo followed him down the hall.

𓏔 🪑 ✿🥛🐈

The next morning, Y/N woke up groggy.

The storm had passed. Pale light slipped through the curtains. Her skin smelled faintly of rain and laundry detergent—and something warm, something familiar.

Jungkook’s hoodie.

She blinked and sat up slowly.

Her bedroom door was cracked. No sign of him.

She stretched, then padded into the kitchen in bare feet. Reached for her tea—and froze.

A yellow Post-it was stuck to the fridge.

His handwriting.

Your ex was here last night.

No commentary. No opinion. Just information.

Her stomach twisted. She took the note down slowly, eyes scanning it twice.

And right under it, smaller writing she hadn’t noticed before:

I told him not to come back.

Note : hey tumblr !

i’m ario and this is my first time here.hoping this little corner of the internet treats me kindly .i’m here to make memories, meet moots, and maybe even share some soft chaos.kisses, comfort, and kind energy are always welcome 💌

lots of love,

xo ario 💋

« next »

[anamina0]

Echoes

Part I , Part II , Part III , Part IV , Part V , Part VI, Part VII , Part VIII

Summary : Your mind is a battlefield, a constant war between thoughts of Vi and the haunting memories of Ellie. Just when you think you’ve shaken one, the other slips in to take its place. And yet, no matter how desperately you try to keep Vi at a distance, she’s always there—like some kind of force refuses to let you walk away.

Warnings/themes : angst, trauma, heartbreak, meantions of death, fluff, kissing , yearning, both Vi and you being assholes to each other

Word count: 5.3k

“Is that really necessary?” you frowned, closing the creaky door behind you. The muffled noise of the bustling bar below faded as you stepped into the cramped room. “We’ve got plenty of customers already. Throwing a whole celebration party seems like a bit much for a shithole like this.” You shot a glance at Revek, catching the faint twitch of his expression. “No offense,” you chuckled, nudging his shoulder playfully.

Revek arched a brow, pulling a cigarette box from his pocket. “God, sometimes it’s painfully obvious you didn’t grow up around here.” He spoke through a low mutter, tapping a cigarette free. “One holiday. Just one. These people—” He lit the cigarette, the flare of the lighter briefly illuminating his rough features. “They’ve been through hell. They deserve a night to forget about it. We all do.”

You rolled your eyes, holding your hand out for the cigarette. “I’m not saying people don’t deserve to celebrate,” you said, taking a deep breath . The cigarette smoke burned your lungs for a moment before you exhaled. “It’s just…” You trailed off, your words evaporating like the smoke in the air. Shaking your head, you handed the cigarette back. “You know what? Nevermind.”

You knew what the problem really was—you didn’t want to dress up, plaster on a fake smile, and toast to something you didn’t feel connected to. But deep down, you also knew why you were here, sticking around Revek. He was there for you when no one else was. The least you could do was return the favor.

“So,” you said after a moment, forcing a smile. “What do we need? Food? Drinks? Decorations?”

Revek’s lips curled into an easy grin as he exhaled another puff of smoke. “Just get a good night’s sleep, wear something that’ll turn a few heads, and get ready to have fun.”

“Whatever you say, big guy,” you smirked, passing the cigarette back. One last exhale, one last cloud of hazy smoke, and you pulled your jacket tighter around you. As you headed for the stairs, you glanced over your shoulder. “Don’t stay up all night, yeah? Try to save some of that cheer for the party.”

His laugh followed you down the creaking stairwell, echoing faintly against the worn walls.

The walk home was short, five minutes through the narrow streets of Zaun, weaving between patches of grime and bursts of chaotic energy. Your apartment wasn’t much—a sagging roof, flaking walls, and windows that hardly held back the bitter winds—but it was cheap. The streets hummed with life, as always. Shouts, laughter, the distant clatter of machinery—it surrounded you, chaos - that somehow soothed. Quiet terrified you. Silence was where thoughts crept in—unbidden and unwelcome. And you’d learned long ago that your thoughts were anything but gentle.

Pausing at your building’s stoop, you glanced back. The bar’s neon sign blinked faintly in the distance, its light spilling into the crowded alleys. Zaun wasn’t kind, but neither were you, and in its rough-edged way, it felt like home. The metal stairs groaned softly under your weight as you climbed toward your apartment. The wind whistled through the gaps in the railing, carrying the smell of oil and smoke from Zaun’s chaotic streets. From this angle, you could see the city glimpse of the city —grimy, alive, a restless pulse of neon lights and shouts echoing into the night. For a brief moment, you paused, gripping the cool rail. Looking down at the messy, relentless energy below, a strange sense of belonging settled over you. Zaun wasn’t for everyone, but for some strange reason, it was for you.

Your apartment greeted you with silence and shadow. The jacket slipped from your fingers, landing carelessly on the floor as your eyes scanned the small room. It wasn’t much—barely enough space to breathe—but it was yours. Your gaze drifted to the fridge. The grumble in your stomach reminded you how little you’d eaten today, though you hadn’t realized it until now.

Crossing to the kitchen area, you pulled open the fridge door. Grabbing some leftovers, you made your way to the couch, balancing the plate on the floor as you shuffled through your small collection of records. Fingers brushed over familiar album covers before settling on one. Placing it on the player, the first crackling notes filled the room, warm and comforting. You sank back onto the couch, letting the music wrap around you. But it wasn’t enough to drown out the thoughts clawing at the edge of your mind. No sooner had you closed your eyes than Vi’s face surfaced, unbidden. Her sharp, determined expression. The hard edge of her voice, the way she filled a room with a rough, commanding presence .

You shook your head, frowning. Why couldn’t you get her out of your head? You barely knew her, and what little interaction you’d had wasn’t exactly pleasant. She was cocky, rude, and dismissive, sparing you little more than a glance whenever she bothered to show up at the bar. Then there were the girls—always someone new, someone eager. Yet Vi never lingered, always on to the next, like nothing and no one mattered to her. She lived with violence and anger simmering under her skin, ready to erupt at a moment’s notice. You’d seen it firsthand. Your fingers traced lightly over your right cheek, where she hit you. It hurt. It was an accident , but still hurt.

And yet, here you were. Thinking about her. Letting her stormy eyes and crooked smirk linger in your mind longer than you wanted them to. It made you angry—angry at her, but mostly at yourself, at how effortlessly she occupied a space in your head when you knew she shouldn’t. Rave of unsettling emotions started swirling around , you were desperate to find answer to one question. Why was your mind still lingering towards her?

You tried to brush her off from your head, concentrate on something else as familiar melody swirled in your ears. And before you realized, it was already too late.

𓈒 𓈒 𓈒 𓈒 𓈒 𓈒 𓈒 𓈒 𓈒 𓈒 𓈒 𓈒 𓈒

“Hey, hey, hey,” her raspy voice whispered, warm and familiar, as arms wrapped tightly around you. Her touch melted into you, grounding you when everything inside felt like it was spinning out of control. “Bad dream?” she added, her lips brushing your cheek with a soft kiss.

Your breath came in shallow gasps as you tried to calm yourself “It was mom and Hannah,” you admitted, voice cracking. You glanced up at her, the closeness of her body almost overwhelming in its warmth.

Her expression softened instantly, her green eyes reflecting the dim light of the room. “I’m here,” she murmured, pressing another kiss to your temple. “Wanna talk about it?”

You swallowed hard, throat tightening against the weight of the memory. “My mind…” You paused, gripping her tighter. “It took me back. To the day they died. It was so calm that day. So damn calm, like the world was just waiting to pull the rug out from under me.”

Her fingers moved in soft circles on your shoulder, her exhale measured and comforting. “You have to let it go,” she said quietly. “The guilt…”

A hollow laugh escaped your lips as you looked down. “Easier said than done.” But you smiled faintly, even through the ache.

She shifted slightly, her hand tilting your chin so you’d meet her gaze. Her presence-was like standing in sunlight after a storm. There wasn’t a hint of judgment in her eyes, only care. Only her.

Here she was. The only person who could calm your storms. After meeting her, you’d finally begun to understand what people meant when they talked about moving on—not to forget, but to reach for something better. Someone better. She wasn’t just a person; she was your armor, light in the darkness.

“I love you, Ellie,” you whispered, the words spilling from your lips before you could stop them. You couldn’t look away, and you didn’t want to.A grin spread across her face, her freckles shifting as she laughed softly. She leaned forward, her lips brushing against yours in a kiss so tender it unraveled something inside you. She pulled back just far enough to whisper, “I love you too,” before claiming your lips again. Her kiss was slow, deliberate, pulling you into her, stealing your pain away piece by piece. You could still feel it—the way her lips felt against yours, the warmth of her body pressing close. No matter how tough she was, when it was just the two of you, she unraveled, revealing a side of herself no one else ever saw.

And it was impossible not to love her for it.

𓈒 𓈒 𓈒 𓈒 𓈒 𓈒 𓈒 𓈒 𓈒 𓈒 𓈒 𓈒 𓈒

Not again.

The memories came flooding back, wrapping around you like suffocating chains. You clenched your fists, trying to push them down, to silence the familiar ache, but it was no use. Your gaze darted around the room, landing on the record player. That damned melody still played, winding its way through your ears and dragging the past along with it. Ellie crept into your thoughts once again, as she always did when you least wanted her there.

It wasn’t fair. Not to you, not to the person you were trying to become. But the song stirred something deep within you—an echo of what used to be. Before you realized what you were doing, you’d slammed your plate down on the floor and rushed toward the record player. Your hands shook as you stopped the music with a force that left the silence ringing in your ears. But even that wasn’t enough. The panic had already rooted itself deep inside, clawing at your chest, making it harder and harder to breathe.

You couldn’t sit still. Not now. Not alone.

Grabbing your jacket from where it had fallen on the floor, you stormed out of the apartment, letting the door slam shut behind you. You didn’t know where you were going, only that you needed to go somewhere. The stairwell loomed ahead, but your steps were clumsy, your mind far away. The tension in your body made every movement feel strained, disconnected. That was probably why you didn’t see it coming.

Your foot hit something, or someone, and before you knew it, you were tumbling forward, catching yourself just in time with your hands against the concrete floor. The sting of the landing shot through you, but before the annoyance could fully set in, a low groan made you freeze.

You turned quickly, brushing the dirt from your hands. “Seriously?” you snapped, frustration spilling out. “Can’t you fucking pick a better place to pass out, you—” The words stuck in your throat as you finally registered the person sprawled behind you.

Her.

“Vi?”

She looked up at you, her expression a mix of exhaustion and drunken carelessness. Even in this state, she managed to smirk, as if she wasn’t sitting half-conscious on your staircase in the middle of the night.

“Hey there, Y/N,” she drawled, her voice raspy and uneven, her speech slurred.

Shock left you dumbfounded for a moment. Then came the anger. “What the hell are you doing here?” you demanded, stepping closer. “Are you following me?”

Vi let out a lazy, half-hearted laugh. “Follow you?” She paused to steady herself before smirking again. “Why would I ever follow you?” Her words hit like a slap, but it wasn’t just the insult that got to you. It was the way she said it so casually, dismissively, like you didn’t matter at all.

Your jaw tightened as you glared down at her. “Then what are you doing passed out outside my apartment?”

Vi blinked up at you, the haze in her eyes softening as she finally focused on your face. For a brief second, something warm flickered there, like she was actually glad to see you. “Because I live here,” she mumbled, tilting her head toward the door beneath your flat. Of course. The universe really had it out for you. Of course Vi lived here, right below you, as if some cosmic joke was at play. You cursed inwardly at the revelation. Why would she ever follow you? She didn’t care about you, and deep down, you already knew that.

“Oh,” you muttered, trying to mask the embarrassment seeping into your voice. “I’ve never seen you around.”

Vi gave you a half-shrug, her coordination barely holding together. You squinted at her, taking in the sorry state she was in—the alcohol practically radiated off her. “You look like you need some help,” you said, forcing a smug grin. “You reek, by the way.”

“I could use some help,” she admitted with a groan, extending a hand toward you.

You hesitated before squatting down to grab her hand. As you tried to pull her up, it became apparent just how drunk she really was. She stumbled forward, her weight pressing into yours, so close that your noses almost touched. The proximity made your stomach flip—a mixture of irritation, panic, and something you didn’t want to name.

“You’ve got to help me out here,” you said quickly, your voice sharp to mask the awkward tension.

Vi let out a small chuckle, her trademark smirk appearing as if on instinct. “Sure thing, pretty girl,” she quipped, her words making your face burn even as you rolled your eyes. Steeling yourself, you guided her toward her apartment door, her steps shaky and slow. The entire way, you told yourself you were only helping her because no one else would. Because someone had to. Definitely not because she still managed to pull you into her orbit, whether she deserved to or not.

As you stepped into her apartment, the air shifted. It was exactly how you imagined—dim, cluttered, and steeped in melancholy, bottles scattered like forgotten relics of whatever storm had swept through here. You shut the door behind you.

“Can you walk on your own?” you asked, a bite of judgment in your voice as you glanced at her.

Vi swayed where she stood, attempting a smile but only managing a lopsided smirk. “I can try,” she mumbled, her steps as unsteady as her voice.

“You need to splash some cold water on your face,” you instructed, your tone sharp. “It’ll help.”

She let out a slow exhale, the kind that spoke of exhaustion and annoyance, but she didn’t argue. She dragged herself to the sink in the kitchen. The water hissed as she turned it on, splashing it onto her face, washing away the traces of her drunken haze—or at least trying to. You stood there, watching her, your thoughts spinning like the needle on a broken record. Just minutes ago, you’d been fleeing your own storm, running blindly from the chaos of your thoughts and memories of Ellie that refused to leave you in peace. Then, as if the universe were playing some twisted game with you, you tripped over Vi of all people. The strange coincidence of her living right below you only fueled your frustration.

You told yourself you hated her for it—for the way she managed to replace one chaos in your life with another. But deep down, some part of you was almost grateful. That small, shameful part wanted her here, even like this. Even when she was impossible.

“Pretty girl.” Her drunken words floated back to you, uninvited, pulling at something inside your chest as your eyes darted to her again. You swallowed hard, trying to shake the moment from your mind. Vi finally turned the water off, not bothering to look at you as she walked unsteadily to the sofa and let herself fall onto it. You lingered near the door, torn between leaving her there and doing something—anything—to stop whatever spiral she was in. But walking out now wasn’t an option. It never was, not when someone was unraveling right in front of you. So you took a step closer, and then another. Her silhouette against the dim light felt heavier than it should have, her sorrow filling the room like a storm cloud. You hated how familiar it all felt.

“Feeling any better?” you asked softly, testing the waters.

Vi leaned back against the sofa, her head tilted to the ceiling, eyes barely meeting yours. “Depends on what you’re asking about,” she mumbled, her voice coarse and tired.

“The alcohol,” you said, forcing a weak smile, hoping to crack through the wall she always seemed to throw up. “Though I don’t think splashing water on your face is going to fix…whatever this is.”

It was a small attempt to lighten the mood, but it hit like a brick wall. Vi’s gaze finally locked onto yours. Her makeup was smeared, her usually sharp features softened by exhaustion, but those piercing blue eyes still cut straight through you. For a second, she looked like she might let you in, might say something real. Then, her lips curled, and her voice came out sharp.

“Save all that bullshit for someone else,” she spat. “You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

And there it was again. The walls, she didn’t just throw up defenses, she lobbed them like knives. You stared at her, your temper flaring as her words settled into your chest .“You’re such an asshole,” you snapped, stepping closer.

“You’re seriously going to treat me like this after I just dragged your sorry ass off the street?” Your voice rose, laced with frustration you couldn’t hold back anymore. “You were so drunk you couldn’t even stand. I could’ve just left you there, but no—I dragged you inside, and instead of a simple thank you, I get this? God, you’re pathetic, Vi.”

Her expression darkened, her jaw tightening as the words hit their mark. For a moment, she looked like she might fire back, but instead, she leaned forward, her forearms resting on her knees, her hands clasped together. She didn’t speak, but the weight in her gaze was enough to make your chest tighten. The silence stretched on, thick with tension. You were standing so close now, the space between you feeling smaller and smaller with every passing second. Intimidation radiated off her, even slouched and broken like this. Yet, beneath it, there was something else. Something fragile she didn’t want you to see but couldn’t entirely hide. And that infuriated you even more. Because no matter how much she pushed you away, no matter how much she twisted your emotions, part of you couldn’t look away.

Then something shifted in her, as it always seemed to when the silence between you dragged on too long.

“Where were you running off to, anyway?” she asked, her voice softer now, though still carrying that faint edge of amusement. “You looked like a psychopath, sprinting out there like that.” A chuckle slipped past her lips, light but dry, like she was trying to mock you and not quite succeeding. You glanced at her, unable to fully brush off her words. Her tone—teasing as it was—held something else beneath it, something you weren’t ready to face.

“That’s… a long story,” you replied, your voice quiet, the weight of the moment anchoring you. You didn’t even realize you were sitting beside her now, close enough to see the way her messy bangs fell into her face. You sighed, chuckling weakly, “Let’s just say I was running away from my own mind.”

At that, her teasing demeanor softened further. Her gaze lingered on you, the faintest flicker of understanding crossing her face. For a moment, it was like she knew exactly what you meant, even though you hadn’t said a word about the storm of emotions inside you.

“Sounds familiar,” she murmured, her voice dropping lower. She paused, her tongue grazing the corner of her lips before she added, “Did you?”

The abruptness of the question caught you off guard. “Did I what?”

“Get away,” she clarified, tilting her head slightly.

“Well,” you exhaled sharply, aiming for humor to deflect the weight of her question, “it’s hard to run away from anything when your drunk neighbor almost sends you flying down the stairs.”

Her lips twitched into the smallest of smiles. “You’re welcome.”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” you shot back, rolling your eyes. “You’re the reason the panic attack snapped out of me, you asshole.”

“And I don’t even get a ‘thank you’ for that?” she replied, her voice laced with mock indignation.

“Uh, no. Considering I didn’t get one for dragging you off the sidewalk, I think we’re even,” you said, smirking slightly.

Her laughter was faint but real, and something about the sound eased the tightness in your chest. Yet, as the silence crept back in, the air between you shifted again. It felt raw, vulnerable. Like neither of you could ignore the unspoken weight pressing down on both of you.

“I hate the taste of alcohol,” she said suddenly, her voice quieter now, almost hesitant. “I despise it.”

You turned to her, surprised at the admission. She wasn’t looking at you but staring off at some undefined spot in the room, her hands fidgeting with the edge of her pants.

“Every sip reminds me that I shouldn’t be doing it,” she continued, her words slower now. “I know it’s not the way to deal with anything, but…” She trailed off, taking a deep breath before letting it out slowly. “But I can’t stop. I have to blur everything, make my head so cloudy that I can’t hear my own thoughts. Because if I don’t…”

You didn’t dare move, afraid of breaking whatever fragile moment had settled around the two of you. Her voice cracked just slightly as she finished, “If I don’t, I’ll go crazy.”

The room was still, but her words hung heavy in the air. You looked at her—really looked at her—and for the first time, you saw past the wall she kept building. Beneath the tough exterior and sharp words was a person held together by scraps and desperation, just like you.

“I get that,” you finally said, your own voice almost a whisper. “That’s why I moved here. That’s why I bury myself in the bar, pulling shifts until my body gives out. Because if I don’t…” You hesitated, your chest tightening at the memories clawing at you. “If I’m left alone with myself for too long, everything just… comes back. All the memories. All the sadness. The guilt, the anger. It all comes at once, and I can’t—”

Your words faltered, the weight of them dragging you down. You let out a shaky breath, suddenly aware of how close the two of you were. She was looking at you now, her blue eyes softer, her expression tinged with something close to understanding.

“Yeah,” she muttered, nodding slightly. “I know what you mean.”

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The silence wasn’t uncomfortable; it was heavy but shared. Her proximity was grounding, yet it also stirred something in you, something you didn’t want to name.

Her hand lifted slightly, almost as if she was going to reach out, but then she hesitated, letting it fall back into her lap. Whatever walls had crumbled between you, there was still a gap, one neither of you seemed ready to close. One thing remained the same—she was still a mystery. Even though you felt like you’d peeled back one of her layers tonight, so many others were still hidden beneath the surface. You wanted to change that. Desperation simmered beneath your skin to know more of her, to unravel whatever story made her the way she was. But fear held you back.Opening up to someone else? Letting them see the real you? You weren’t ready. You feared it, even hated the part of yourself that was willing to risk it again. The last time you let someone in, it hadn’t ended well—your mother and sister’s deaths, your brother abandoning you, Ellie disappearing like smoke and taking a piece of your soul with her. Every time, you ended up alone, and the thought of repeating that cycle should have stopped you.

But it didn’t.

“Can I ask you something, Vi?” you said quietly, turning toward her. You hadn’t realized just how close you’d shifted until now, the space between you narrowing to an almost unbearable degree. Her warmth radiated toward you, faint but undeniable.

“Of course,” she replied, her voice surprisingly soft. The sound of it lingered, brushing against your thoughts like a feather.

You hesitated, unsure if you should ask what was on your mind, but the curiosity, the pull, was too strong. “How did you end up… alone?”

She exhaled, the question hitting her harder than you’d anticipated. Her gaze dropped to her hands, fingers twitching slightly as if she didn’t know what to do with them.

“It’s a long story,” she murmured, looking up briefly before glancing away again. “I wasn’t always like this,” she continued, her words measured as if each carried a weight she wasn’t sure she could handle. “I had… family. A sister.”

She paused, and you could see her battling with herself, unsure if she wanted to continue. Then she whispered a name: Cait.

The way she said it sent a shiver down your spine. It wasn’t just a name. It was a memory, a ghost that haunted her, and for a moment, you thought she might choke on the word.

“Cait,” you repeated softly, testing the waters. The name felt heavy on your tongue, and you searched her face for a reaction. “She seems like… a heartbreak,” you ventured cautiously, your voice gentle as you tried to meet her where she was.

Her jaw tightened, and all she did was nod, as if even acknowledging it aloud was too much.

"Well,” you began, your voice barely above a whisper, “if it makes you feel any better, I’ve been there too.” Your lips trembled slightly as you pushed out a name you hadn’t spoken in years. “Her name was Ellie.”

Saying it felt surreal, like you were resurrecting a ghost you weren’t ready to confront. For so long, you had buried her name deep, locked behind walls you thought would keep you safe. But tonight, those walls seemed to crumble.Vi’s hand brushed against yours. The touch was light, almost hesitant, and it caught you off guard. You glanced down, surprised at how soft her fingers were despite everything about her seeming rough. Her fingertips traced yours, and then she intertwined her fingers with yours, so slow and deliberate that it sent chills rushing through your entire body.A simple touch, and yet it felt so different—so good. It had been too long since you’d felt this, a connection that felt both grounding and electrifying all at once. You looked at her, your gaze locking onto hers as she didn’t move, just let her fingers remain tangled with yours. Her eyes softened in a way you hadn’t seen before, and your heart stuttered in your chest.

Without a word, she leaned forward slightly, the space between you closing even more. It felt inevitable, like gravity was pulling you together. You mirrored her movement, hardly breathing as your faces came closer, closer still. Your noses nearly brushed, and her breath warmed your lips as your eyes fluttered shut.

Then panic hit, sharp and overwhelming.

You shouldn’t be doing this. Not again. It was too dangerous. Too much. The fear that consumed you earlier—the fear of opening yourself up, of being broken again—came roaring back to life, pulling you away violently. You jerked back, breaking the moment and standing so quickly you nearly lost your balance. Your hands trembled as you looked around the room, anywhere but at her.

“I… I should go,” you said, the words barely audible as tears burned in your eyes. Your voice cracked, and you cursed yourself for not being stronger. Vi didn’t move. She sat there, her expression unreadable but undeniably laced with sadness. She didn’t try to stop you. She didn’t say a word, and somehow, that made it hurt even more.

You opened the door, every part of you screaming to leave, but something—some force you couldn’t explain—held you there for one last moment.

“Um,” you whispered, not even sure why you were saying it, “Revek’s having a celebration party tomorrow. You should… you should stop by. If you want to.”

It was awkward, ridiculous even, and you hated yourself for offering something so trivial after what had just happened. But the words hung in the air as you finally stepped out, closing the door behind you. By the time you reached your apartment, the tears had already spilled over, cascading down your cheeks as you tried to keep your breathing steady. Whatever had just happened between you and Vi, whatever shift had taken place, it scared you in a way nothing else had in for a long time.

𓈒 𓈒 𓈒 𓈒 𓈒 𓈒 𓈒 𓈒 𓈒 𓈒 𓈒 𓈒 𓈒

Author note: Chapter II is out!!! I really hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Please let me know what you think, it means world to me when you guys give me feedback and motivates me to do more .

[grieferkisser]

╰ㅤ₊ㅤ๋࣭ㅤreader x gr13f3r　 sorry　᠀

ꔛ word count: 684⠀╱⠀unestablished relationship + player reader 。

(¬_¬")⠀⠀⠀note,more on the end ⠀╱⠀tw: mention of sword + violence (MENTION!!)

hi guys my name is ars and today i came back with the milk!! i love this stupid dude sm im not joking i want him so bad...this is...angst...kinda....,,anyways sighh if i had this guy in front of me i would do things i cant say out loud(worship himgrrr) inspired by this song(idk how to put the little one sorryyyy :( )

The Venomshank in his hand was slipping as Griefer stared at you, a whirlwind of emotions crashing through him. How could he even think about doing this? Was he completely out of his mind? Maybe. Maybe his dad was right when he told him to stop everything just minutes before. Stop the chaos. Stop all of this.

Griefer couldn’t tear his eyes away from you. You looked absolutely stunning, even with a sword pointed at his throat. Strange, wasn’t it? How he could find beauty in this moment of tension and heartbreak.

Finally, the Venomshank clattered to the floor, the sound hollow as it echoed in the room, just as the tears started to form in his eyes. He was a jerk, wasn’t he? He had to be. The look in your eyes—it was different now. The first time he saw you, there was something there. Strength, maybe? Bravery? He couldn’t quite put his finger on it back then. But now? Now your eyes were filled with pity, with sadness. And it killed him inside. 

Maybe it was because those butterflies he felt in his stomach the first time he laid eyes on you weren’t just in his head. He had tried to tell himself it was the voices whispering in his mind, telling him to destroy everything—to destroy you. Break your bones, break your spirit, break you entirely. But could he? He didn’t think he could. No, not anymore. Not with these unfamiliar emotions flooding through him. His sword lay forgotten on the ground, and soon enough, he was on his knees too, crumbling in front of you, lost in the depth of your eyes. He sobbed, and it was pathetic—he felt pathetic.

Still, he crawled toward you, his movements slow, almost hesitant. His trembling hands reached out, grabbing hold of your clothes like a lifeline. His fingers clutched the fabric, his tears soaking through as he began to cry even harder.

"I’M S0RR7… I’M S0RR7…"

Griefer’s voice broke as he repeated the words over and over like a broken record. He wanted to apologize for everything he had done, for all the pain he caused. You deserved that much. His tears soaked into your clothes, and he didn’t even notice when you slowly got down on your knees and wrapped your arms around him. 

He cried harder, burying his face in your neck, his hands still clutching at you as if he were afraid you’d disappear. 

"I'M S0RR7… F0R EVE7YTH1NG… I’M S0RR7, I’M S0RR7…"

But something in him began to calm down as your hands moved through his hair, gently stroking it, soothing him. You whispered that it was alright, and though he wasn’t sure if he could believe it, with you telling him so gently, he started to think—maybe it really was. His heart felt strange, warm in a way that was foreign to him.

When you gently pulled back to look at him, he tried to hide his face in embarrassment, but you wouldn’t let him. You took his cheeks in your hands and gazed into his eyes. And just like that, the pity he feared seeing wasn’t there. Instead, it was something warm, something tender that he didn’t fully understand.

…

When it was all over—after so much crying from both him and his dad—you were preparing to leave, taking the Venomshank with you. Griefer watched you as you moved toward the door, your back to him. He wasn’t sure why, but something inside him panicked at the thought of you walking away. 

Summoning the last bit of courage he had, he moved toward you and gently took your hand. When you turned to face him, the sunlight spilling in through the window made you look almost ethereal, more radiant than ever in his eyes. 

"S0RR7," he whispered one more time, his voice soft but sincere.

You comforted him again, offering a few more words of reassurance. He stood there, staring at you as if you were the light itself, realizing that no matter how bright the sun was, it couldn’t compare to the way you made him feel.

kisses him anyways!! uh this is shit tbh but yeah i love him a lot

[ihavethegrimoire]

what would you say are your favourite jjk fics? fics you think about, or keep going back to, or just stood out to you in particular. (for any pairing)

Thank you so much for the ask!

There are really so many, and I admit because I'm a slow reader and read quite a lot of original fiction as well, there are lots of good fics that I haven't even touched. There are always my fic recs you can check into on ao3, but I'll give a more narrowed down list, with a particular emphasis on fics I find underrated/underviewed. The vast majority of this will be satosugu because that's just what I tend to read.

erase me by greaterglow - Satosugu - the Severance AU that offers the same heartbreak as both satosugu and mark/gemma

The Seven Deaths of the Annointed One by sad_gnome - Satosugu - Magical realism and Satoru's weaponization are favorites of mine. This one is a toothache soothed by sweet lidocaine and peaches in the end.

life finds a way by The_Darkness_Eater - Sukuna x Skull - I think the ship says enough for the strangeness of this one, but it is the odd, erotic horror vibe I love.

lipstick smudges by annadante - Satosugu - a fun, smutty, sexy crossdressing fic with great characterization.

G.O.J.O. by yours_grubby - Satosugu - Haunting cyberpunk that has stuck with me long after reading.

no flower more beautiful by loachpearl - Satosugu - this is the one that got me into A/B/O bitching. It has a lyricism that I come back to for inspiration over and over.

lilac wine by jellyjully - Satosugu - an AU set in the 1950s centered around a lilac marriage. The prose of this one was so immersive.

The Nightmare and the Honored One by EccentricBookworm - Sukugo - A Painter AU/Southern Gothic. So much fun to read, and bookworm is so vivid with their descriptions. If you like my descriptions just know they are heavily inspired by this fic as was my shipping of satosukusugu.

That's all I have for now. I have a good catalogue of fics sitting in my bookmarks or otherwise half-read, but it would feel irresponsible of me to recommend them without knowing the ending. I hope you find something you enjoy and maybe have never encountered before!

[child0feden]

BLISS

andreas “ BSOD ” betinger x reader

- general dating headcanons for andreas!

this was kind of interesting to write because i have had a lot of not so great experiences with heroin but please do not worry anon, i was perfectly comfortable writing this for you <3

- requested by anon | view my metal masterlists here and here

reading music recommendations: worlds forgotten boy by billy idol - im zeichen des bosen by grausamkeit

- okay so, i cannot just make dating headcanons for andreas and not mention heroin!

✩ i think to be in a relationship with him, you would not particularly have to do heroin yourself but you would have to be supportive of his use and not degrade him nor try to talk him out of doing it…

- i think your attempts at getting him to stop something he enjoys so much and brings him pleasure would bug him real bad, no matter how much you mean it out of love and care for him, he has been doing it for so long and he likes it, it is very likely he has been loving heroin, as well as hating it, for longer than he has loved you… it is a very difficult situation for both him and you at times…

✩ your attempts would likely annoy him so much, he would just break up with you if you do not stop, no hesitation and in a fit of anger

- he would probably be a little upset about the breakup because he did love you but he will quickly soothe his heartbreak with some bliss in the form of a drug

✩ so if you want a relationship with andreas, you will just have to be okay with having a relationship with heroin too, even if not a direct relationship!

- i will not really go too deep into this but if you enjoy doing heroin too, that is just great! he loves you even more

✩ though i will go a bit deeper into smoking weed with him because that is a lot more casual and easier to talk about for me

- first of all, he absolutely loves rolling blunts on your ass!

✩ i mean, it is just perfect to him! he gets to make a perfect blunt for himself, and you if you want to get high too, and he gets the most amazing view of your gorgeous ass, packing and rolling the blunt much slower than usual just to eye up and fondle the fat of your ass for longer!

- if you tilt your head over your shoulder and raise an eyebrow at him, asking just what is taking so long, he will probably just throw you a bit of a cheeky smirk before sinking his teeth into your ass cheek and mumbling against the skin

“ nothing… just your ass, you have a great ass, you know that? fucking perfect ass… ” ( he is definitely an ass guy and no one can convince me otherwise )

✩ well he is an ass guy but to be honest, he is pretty feral for your body as a whole… this nasty little guy loves absolutely covering your body in bite marks, bruises and hickeys… maybe track marks too, if you are into doing heavy drugs with him…

- i am unsure if andreas ever did cocaine, he most likely did, he would obviously like love snorting lines off your ass too!

✩ or even snorting the snow white lines up from your nude upper back as he pounds into your soaking cunt from behind, his movement slowing just a little as to not let any of the powder go to waste on the cotton sheets below

- if you are english or even just speak much more english than him, he always asks you to teach him how to say very weird and obscure words, he really wants his english to be better

✩ he definitely lets out loud laughs at just how strange some words sound when translated to english, but he does not laugh for long before his face drops and gets really scarily serious, looking you dead in the eyes and starting a way too deep and philosophical conversation about why it sounds like that…

- that is just the kind of high person i see him as, flat in the middle of being overly comedic and overly serious about things

✩ you would probably get immensely irritated by his run ins with police and near regular time in jail but it is just another one of those things you would have to learn to deal with or just break up with him because he is not a man fond of change

- when andreas is in prison, all he really requests is letters and phone calls from you, the mix of not having drugs on the inside and not hearing your voice at nearly all times of the day is damn near enough to drive him absolutely crazy

✩ so just send him letters and call him whenever you can, he really does appreciate it and makes the most of them!

- would he maybe request you send him some risqué or fully nude photographs of yourself with your letters? and lean closer into the phone, further away from the prison guards, to whisper filthy things down the line to you? well, yes…

✩ like i said, he really will make the most of them so of course he will be wanting some spank bank material for the stay!

- when he sends letters back to you, he usually drags some words out for unknown reasons, it is just one of those things with him! he would probably somehow find a way to harm himself just a tiny bit to drip a small amount of blood onto the paper, sending a real, intimate piece of him back to you

✩ if you have never seen or read “ wir kinder vom bahnhof zoo ” be prepared for him to be absolutely shocked and stare at you blankly for a couple seconds after telling him, then he will be trying to find a way to show you the movie as soon as possible

- obviously, he already owns the book! he will probably read it to you himself since the copy he has is in german, he will either try to read it in one long go to you after taking some heroin but quickly gives up, his mouth drying up every sentence and irritating him

✩ so it probably becomes a ritual for him to instead read a chapter to you before bed, your head resting on his flat, pale chest as he reads in a gravely voice, one hand holding the book open as another fondles your ass under the blankets or plays with your hair

- andreas really likes making out with you and very risky public displays of affection! he has no care for people watching nor what they think and an indecent exposure charge? well, just add it to the hundreds of other charges on his record, he could care less

✩ sloppy, open mouthed make out sessions with you literally always lead to sex and he will be damned if he will not make out with you in public so i am sure you know what that means but if you do not? it just means a lot of public sex, against walls, on benches, laying in the grass and so on… you guys, especially andreas, do not even try to hide what you are doing… he is loud as hell and he has no shame! grunting and groaning deeply as his hips slam against yours, his cock driving even deeper inside of you as your hands slide under his shirt, your nails digging into the pale flesh of his back, much to his pleasure, of course…

“ awh, fuck! fuck fuck fuck! feels so good, so fucking tight… always so fucking wet… ” ( usually andreas will let out a string of curses and dirty talk in german too, slipping back into his native tongue in the midst of the deep pleasure he is receiving )

- when andreas is released from jail, every time all he wants to do is very simple!

✩ he just wants to get home, get naked, do some drugs, listen to some music, probably whiplash smile, it takes him way back, and fuck you… that is it…

- he is a very easy to please man, most of the time, anyways <3

[enchantedchocolatebars]

Ooh, you do silly stuff! In that case, I have a fic request. Philip Wittebane meets a tiny Reader and says "Oh, you're tiniest Reader I've ever seen! In my satchel you go!"

Or Slade from Teen Titans is the one that finds tiny Reader and puts them in one of his belt pouches.

Is it possible to do both? I like both ideas.

Hi, nonnie!👋

I do indeed do sillies! :D

ESPECIALLY SILLY STUFF WITH BEARDO PHILIP 🤎 💕

Thank you for the request!😊

I hope this is okay / fine / decent.👍

The Satchel

During his days in the deplorable Demon Realm, Philip Wittebane had never ONCE come across anything or anyone he would consider "cute".

Just not possible.

Until today.

The bearded man was walking through the forest, his satchel by his side as he happily wrote about the "accidental" death of his most recent companion.

Their demise was truly "heartbreaking".

He might be smiling as he's writing about them, but trust me, he was "crying" on the inside.

While walking, he hears a small, high-pitched voice scream "STOP!" to which he does mid-step, placing his right foot that he had lifted up down.

The sudden screech startled him greatly.

Looking around to see where the voice came from, Philip looks down to see you.

Yes, you! 🫵

You were a tiny being. About the size of a pea. Chibi-sized even.

A sigh of relief came when you saw that the giant man hadn't stepped on you.

That would have NOT been good.

Seeing you, Philip couldn't believe his blue eyes.

You were the cutest, tiniest wittle thing he's ever seen in this hellish place.

Lowering down to your level, he starts to speak, his face beaming with glee.

"My, my, aren't you just adorable?" He coos, hearts floating around him.

You give the guy a small glare. You didn't like him.

You were lucky Philip found you to be so interesting.

If he didn't, he'd take great pleasure in crushing you with his foot and scraping your remains off his shoe.

"You'll make for a marvelous specimen to study." He reaches out a hand to grab you, in which you gasp.

You then let out a growl.

No way were you letting this, admittingly attractive, stranger take you away with him.

That's kidnapping, which was an unlawful act. >:(

You had to do something.

Lifting up a finger, you send a mini blast of energy his way. When he's hit, he begins to... laugh? You're shocked by this. How is your magic not harming him? His laughter only makes you more mad as you grit your teeth. You try zapping him again and again and again, but he only continues to laugh.

"That tickles!" He chuckles as he grabs you. You try your best to get out of his grasp. He then uses a finger to lightly tap your head.

"Adorable and hilarious." You were definitely going into his satchel, no doubt about that. He needed a good laugh and you had given him just that.

As you're about to bite his finger CLEAR OFF his hand, he gently places you into his satchel and continues his walk.

As you silently sat in the brown bag, you slowly began to realize something. You actually liked being inside it. The gentle rocking with every step the man took, the items such as a dagger and a strange disc clinking around with each motion.

It was all so... soothing.

You huffed, crossing your arms.

Oh, fine.

You would accept this mistreatment.

For now.

[sloanecerity]

How To Win Your Senpai In 10 Days Chapter 4

Happy Odaiba Day!

Really wanted to get an update for my Jyoumi romcom fic out today, and I managed to do it! It's awesome to see so much Digimon love and I'm going to add onto it! I love Digimon, and I love this fic and I'm so happy to share the Jyoumi AND the Digimon love!

Chapter Summary: Hoping to get her idol to feel better, Yolei plans a night for her, Mimi, Sora, and Kari. Of course, being Yolei Inoue, she's got a lot more in store. Spurred on by the night's events, Mimi gets an idea in mind with what she wants to do with everything that's happened the past few days.

If you want to check out the whole fic, you can do so on AO3 here!

I hope you all enjoy!

---

She may have been able to hold back her tears on the car ride home with Joe and Manami yesterday, but she certainly couldn’t that night. She told her mother and father about her heartbreak the day before and how it had gotten even worse that afternoon. No matter what soothing words or hugs they gave her, though, it didn’t help. Mimi wasn’t sure what would help at that point.

Yolei had the big idea for a girl’s night the next night, reviving the DigiDestined Girls group text after a month and a half to present the idea. Her parents were gone visiting some family for a few days, which left the Inoue apartment the perfect place for them all to gather. As much as she was looking forward to more time with her friends, a part of her couldn’t help but wonder if they were trying to look after her and make sure she was doing alright. Still, the thought brought a smile to her face and she nearly immediately replied that she was in.

But even the excitement of girl’s night couldn’t get Mimi up bright and early, instead holding onto Palmon as she laid in bed, feeling the slightest hint of relief at having her Digimon there with her. If it was up to her, she would’ve stayed in bed and lazed about in her pajamas, and at most she would’ve gone out to watch some dramas with her mother and cry her heart out some more.

Both her mother and Palmon insisted that she take a long bath, put on a face mask, and then get dressed up in something cute and fun for girl’s night. She went along with it with a weak smile, not entirely feeling it as she sat in the bath on her phone, checking with Yolei to see if there was anything she wanted her to bring.

“Just your beautiful, perfect, stunning self!” was the text she received back.

“But also, an overnight bag! I’ve got everything else covered!”

So there wouldn’t be any fancy cookies from her, she was sure the others would understand given the circumstances.

She allowed herself to soak for just a few extra minutes, half tempted to fall asleep in the warm water, but once the alarm on her phone went off, she got out to get ready.

“Are you feeling any better, Mimi?” Palmon asked as Mimi looked through her drawers to find some cute pajamas.

“…Not entirely,” she admitted with a long sigh, shaking her head after. It was the easiest way to tell Palmon without breaking her poor Digimon’s heart. She knew she had to be honest, but there was no point in making her partner feel worse about Mimi not feeling great.

Palmon let out a quiet whine before she popped off the bed, throwing her fronds into the air.

“You know, I bet whatever Yolei has planned will help!”

Mimi sucked in a quiet breath and put on a smile as she turned to look at her partner, hoping to seem brighter than she felt.

“Definitely!” she chirped, before taking the pink tank top she was holding and shoving it into her duffel bag. After that she tossed in some nice pink pajama pants and hoisted the bag over her shoulder, giving Palmon a thumbs up.

“You ready to go?” Mimi asked.

“Yeah!”

With a quick goodbye to her parents and the promise to text as soon as she got there, Mimi and Palmon made their way to the Inoue apartment. It felt strange to be out with Palmon as normal, but with how so much of the world had been exposed to Digimon over the past couple of years, she was glad she didn’t have to hide her partner or pretend she was just a stuffed toy anymore. It was especially heartwarming to see all the kids who seemed so fascinated by Palmon and asked them about Digimon.

It was these little things that made her heart feel so much bigger despite all the pain that dwelt just underneath the surface. And it was enough to help distract Palmon from needing to worry about her on the rest of the trip to Yolei’s. As she got ready to take the elevator up, she started to feel excited. Excited and, honestly, a bit anxious. Were they going to fret over her constantly? Were they going to look at her all sad because of Joe and Manami? Were they—

“Hey! Mimi! Palmon!”

Mimi’s head whipped around in an instant, and she blinked a few times before her eyes trained on Kari and Gatomon.

“Oh, Kari, it’s great to see you!” Mimi cooed as the younger girl jogged over to her to catch up to the two of them. Kari wasted no time in wrapping Mimi in a hug, and while Palmon joined in, Gatomon gracefully jumped off Kari’s shoulder and onto the ground.

“You just saw me yesterday! You saw both of us!” Kari laughed.

“I know, I know,” Mimi said, the two finally letting go of each other, “I guess I’m still not used to being back yet.”

“I’m sure you’ll adjust soon enough. I imagine your internal schedule must still be pretty off, huh?” Kari asked.

“Oh, you have no idea,” Mimi sighed, “I’ve been making sure to stay up at normal hours, but it isn’t easy.”

Granted, part of that was because of how low she felt and how nice lying in bed in the dark was.

“If it was me I’d definitely be taking plenty of cat naps,” Gatomon added, before jumping up to hit the elevator button with a claw.

“It’s been tempting,” Mimi said between giggles.

“Well, hopefully Yolei doesn’t put you through the wringer tonight,” Kari said.

“I’m sure she’s planning on going all out,” Mimi said.

Knowing Yolei, anything could happen tonight. As much as she was looking forward to it, she only hoped it would be something fun and relaxing, since she didn't have the energy for anything too wild. Still, she needed to be prepared for anything.

The elevator finally dinged and its doors opened, and after letting Kari and Gatomon go first, Mimi sucked in a deep breath as she and Palmon followed.

***

As soon as they got there, they saw Sora waiting at the door, and the sight of yet another friend left Mimi’s heart feeling just a touch lighter.

Biyomon flapped her arms happily as the girls and their partners came over, and before any greetings could be exchanged, the door swung open and Yolei greeted them all with a wide smile.

“My favorite ladies!” she said, gesturing for them all to walk in, and following up with a hug as each of them passed by.

Hawkmon was in the kitchen pouring himself a mug of tea, letting out a sigh of relief as he walked out.

“Hey Hawkmon, are you here to chaperone us tonight?” Sora asked.

“Well, we never know what Yolei might drag you all into, so I imagine my presence tonight might be useful in case she decides to go too far,” Hawkmon said. He let out a quiet hum after and then took a drink of his tea. He gave Yolei an almost knowing look before walking off to the living room.

Kari quirked an eyebrow before she slowly looked at Yolei.

“Should we be worried?” she asked. Yolei waved a hand to dismiss her concerns.

“Nooooo, no no no! I just want us all to have a fun, chill night!” she insisted, though the unspoken “for Mimi” lingered in the air. “Don’t you trust me?”

Sora fixed Yolei with a hard stare, hoping that it would help reveal any secrets that her junior might be keeping. Despite the awkward, almost anxious grin on her face in response, she remained silent. Mimi clapped her hands together after a moment to break the silence.

“Well I can’t wait! Thanks for inviting us over, Yolei,” Mimi smiled.

“Now all of you, go into the living room! I’m gonna get a few things from the kitchen,” she winked before padding off. The remaining three girls shared confused looks as they heard Yolei rifling around. Kari started to walk ahead of Sora and Mimi, at which Sora turned to look at Mimi.

“Hey… are you doing ok? After yesterday?” she whispered.

Mimi looked down, unable to help the frown on her face. “I’m… managing,” she said, voice quiet and shaking, before she sucked in a sharp breath. It was a lie she hoped to convince Sora of, but it was dashed once tears started to well up in her eyes. Sora grimaced.

“Mimi…”

Mimi wiped her eyes with the back of her hand and shook her head, “No no, I’m fine, really. Honest,” she said, doing her best to force a smile. Both Palmon and Biyomon looked up with clear worry on their faces.

Palmon reached a frond up to Mimi’s hand to hold gently in hopes of soothing her partner even a bit. It helped a bit, but Mimi still felt her heart ache as each little moment from yesterday’s picnic played over and over in her head.

Mimi held on tight to Palmon’s frond as they made their way into the living room, and Mimi wasted no time as she curled up onto one end of the couch, tucking her feet under her as she looked at the small TV. It was off right now, and her dim reflection looking back at her.

Kari and Sora looked at each other, neither of them quite sure what to say to Mimi in those moments. The silence was soon gone in favor of drawers being opened and slammed shut at a rapid rate. Kari cringed as she could only begin to imagine what could be happening back there.

“Almost…! Ready…!” Yolei called out from the kitchen, and Hawkmon sighed from behind his cup. Sora looked over at Kari.

“So… how’re you, Kari?”

“Oh! I’m good. Not entirely looking forward to school starting…” she sighed, “I’m glad that we’ve all had so much time to hang out.”

That was enough to bring a slight smile to Mimi’s face as she continued to stare off into the distance. It was small, but between the airport, tonight, and even the picnic, she had been able to see her friends more than she had throughout most of the time she lived in New York.

“Oooookaaaaaay! We’re gonna have a killer night!” Yolei whooped. The three girls and their Digimon partners all turned to see Yolei walking over with two wine bottles in one hand and a mess of wine glasses in the other. Sora’s eyes went wide instantly, and she shot up from the other end of the couch.

“Yolei, no!” she shouted, though she didn’t seem deterred in the slightest.

“Yessss!” she shot back with a wide grin.

“Yolei,” Kari sighed, shaking her head.

“Come on! It’ll be fun!” Yolei insisted. “There’s no parents here, it’s just us girls, no harm done!” Yolei shrugged as she walked over to set what she had so far on the coffee table, before she padded back to the kitchen without so much as pausing for a breath.

Sora sighed and started to massage her temples.

“I had a feeling she had something planned,” Hawkmon mumbled.

“We should have expected it,” Kari deadpanned.

“I can hear you guys, you know!”

The freezer slammed shut, and moments later Yolei walked back with some pints of ice cream and spoons.

Mimi blinked as she took it all in. Her friends, wine, and ice cream… right now, with how low she was feeling, she couldn’t have asked for anything else.

Without a word, Mimi reached forward, flipped open the lid of one— chocolate chocolate chip— and jabbed a spoon into it.

“See, Mimi is up for it!” Yolei said with a wild gesture towards her.

“Mimi…” Sora said with a frown.

It dawned on Mimi in those moments that Yolei had probably planned this what with how prepared she seemed to be. As much as she appreciated her junior’s consideration, she also felt bad that things seemed bad enough that Yolei felt the need to go all out for this.

At the same time, wine sounded so good right that she couldn’t complain too badly. As she waited for the ice cream to thaw a little bit more, she leaned forward and grabbed the glass. She saw the look Sora gave her and offered her a weak smile.

“I think I’ve earned a little wine by now, right?” she said. Sora’s look softened a bit and she sighed.

“You aren’t wrong. Let’s just… be responsible with it, ok?”

“We will!” Yolei insisted, popping a corkscrew into one of the wine bottles.

“Sora, are you sure about this?” Kari asked, looking over at her pleadingly.

“No, not entirely, but I know that there’s no use in trying to stop Yolei when she has her mind set to something,” Sora said as she gestured to Yolei, who pulled the cork out and started to pour the first glass for Mimi.

Kari sighed again and shook her head before she took a seat on one of the nearby chairs.

“Look, that’s why it’s a girl’s night sleepover!” Yolei said, now working on pouring a third glass, “We drink, have ice cream, bitch about everything that’s bothering us, and then we sleep it off! Everyone wins!”

“Well what about us?” Gatomon asked.

“I have a bunch of snacks in the kitchen. Especially those fish crackers you like so much, Gatomon,” Yolei offered with a wink.

Gatomon looked from Kari, to Yolei, then back to Kari. After a moment she hopped off of Kari’s lap and started walking to the kitchen without a word.

“Just one glass of wine, Yolei!” Kari insisted. Yolei grinned.

“Ok, ok! Just one glass for you!” Yolei said, pleased by her victory.

At that point, Mimi grabbed her glass and took a long drink, letting out a sigh of contentment after.

“I needed that so much, thank you Yolei,” she said, voice wavering and eyes watering. Palmon pulled Mimi into a hug, nearly causing some of the dark red liquid to spill onto the couch.

“Mimi, I’m so sorry about how sad you’ve been feeling!” Palmon cried.

“Me, too… I know things weren’t great yesterday,” Sora said.

Mimi stared off at her reflection on the TV again. She didn’t want to think about that picnic, yet it was all she could keep her mind on, even now.

“Well, I still think he’s an idiot for choosing someone else over you,” Yolei said, with a shrug, before grabbing her glass to take a drink, “I know I said it yesterday, but like, I would be lucky if I could date Mimi.”

“…He really should have told you. I know he doesn’t owe us that, but it just doesn’t make sense that he wouldn’t say anything,” Kari frowned.

“I didn’t even realize he never said anything,” Sora said, pinching the bridge of her nose, “If I had known I would’ve let you know, Mimi.”

“No, it’s ok Sora, really. Like you said, you didn’t know,” Mimi insisted, before taking another long drink. Once she finally pulled it from her lips, it was nearly empty, and Yolei wasted no time in filling it back up, nearly to the rim. Sora cleared her throat loudly, causing Yolei to duck her head, flushing from embarrassment as an awkward laugh bubbled from her throat.

“If it’s anyone’s fault, it’s Joe! Stupid Joe,” Yolei grumbled as she took her glass again, swirling the liquid in it before she took another sip.

“He’s not stupid,” Mimi said, swallowing down some nausea as an image of him and Minami flashed in her mind.

“You don’t need to defend him,” Yolei said, “He hurt you! You’re allowed to be mad at him! Right?” she asked, looking over her shoulder at Kari, who glanced away.

“Right?” Yolei asked again, this time looking over at Sora, who, too, remained silent. Yolei let out a long, frustrated sigh, then looked down at Hawkmon, “Right!?”

Hawkmon folded his arms, then after a moment, nodded sagely, “Though I don’t believe it would be right to take it out on Joe, I believe Yolei is right in her general point.”

Yolei’s jaw dropped in shock, “Wait, you’re agreeing with me?”

“To an extent, yes. I believe Mimi is allowed to be frustrated if that’s how she feels, though, like I said, I don’t believe it would be right to take it out on him. Nor is it right for you to try and egg Mimi on to be mad at him.”

“I’m not!” Yolei shouted.

“I would never take it out on him,” Mimi said, taking another sip, “I’m not sure if I do feel mad at him…”

“How are you feeling about it all?” Kari asked, “If you want to talk about it of course.”

“Yeah! Come on, have some ice cream, too!” Yolei said, before lowering herself on the ground next to the chair Kari was sitting in, taking another drink as she looked up at her senior on the couch.

Mimi pursed her lips, trying to focus on looking at the wine as opposed to any of her friends or the Digimon.

“I know that he doesn’t owe me a relationship or anything, but I still feel heartbroken,” Mimi finally spoke up, feeling herself grow closer and closer to crying.

“Mimi…” Palmon whined sadly, still holding onto her partner.

Mimi set her wine glass after taking another sip, then folded her hands together in her lap.

“I just thought after all this time I’d come back and it would be this incredible moment and it just… wasn’t.” She began to wring her hands together anxiously, “I poured my heart out to him about how I’ve loved him for so long and how I was so ready for us to start going out now that I was back.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” Kari said. Mimi sniffled, barely holding back tears.

“I-It’s ok,” Mimi said, voice shaking, swallowing down a lump in her throat. It was getting harder and harder to resist breaking down the more she talked about it, but at the same time, all she wanted was to talk about this. A part of her wanted to cry about it, especially after yesterday. Even if she said it was ok, it wasn’t. Not with how much her heart had been aching since then, and especially now.

Mimi was quiet for a moment, then reached forward to grab the ice cream container she had stabbed a spoon into earlier, now soft enough to eat, and took a big scoop to eat.

“Oh this is sooooooo goooood,” she groaned, sinking into the couch a bit more as she took another spoonful to eat.

“Well, what are the rest of us waiting for? Girl’s night! Girl’s night!” Yolei shouted, following it up with a loud whoop.

As opposed to the wine, Kari was quick to grab one of the containers of ice cream, wasting no time digging in. Sora eyed the wine, and when Yolei caught sight of it, a large grin grew on her face.

“C’moooooon Sora, it’ll be fuuuuuuun!” Yolei said in a sing-song voice, waiting with bated breath to see if her senior would indulge with her and Mimi. Sora closed her eyes, silently contemplating for a few moments, then grabbed a glass and took a sip.

The sight left Yolei and Mimi surprised, and the loud cheer Yolei made left Mimi unable to help but burst into giggles.

Yolei dropped down onto the middle of the couch, wine nearly flying out from her glass from the suddenness of it, and took a long drink as she, too, sank into the cushions.

“Girl’s night is already so fun,” Yolei grinned.

***

The group had changed into their pajamas a while ago, just after they had first started the “festivities,” but despite the comfy, bright pajamas Mimi had on, her mood was anything but. All she wanted was to cry and languish.

One bottle of wine just had a last few drops while the other had maybe a glass left in it. Three pints of ice cream were decimated, with Mimi cradling one in her arms and Yolei and Kari sharing one more. A few bags of chips had been broken out, with Sora reaching for another handful from inside a crumpled bag that was nearly empty.

Kari’s single glass of wine was nearly finished, and she had slunk onto the floor, face bright red from the alcohol, unable to stop the giggles she burst into every so often.

Sora had managed to finish her glass, and though she was more collected than Tai’s younger sister, she was still feeling a little woozy, trying to do all she could to try and (fruitlessly) soak up the alcohol.

“If we’re being honest,” Yolei said, swirling the wine in her glass a little too hard, nearly causing it to fly out, “What’s so great about him anyways?”

“Nooo, he’s wonderful!” Mimi cried, putting a hand to her heart.

That didn’t deter Yolei, though. “I’m just saying, he’s not even that handsome. You could do waaaaaaay better!”

“Yolei!” Kari shouted. Yolei whipped around to face her.

“He is handsome, though! He’s so tall and adorable and he’s got that awkward charm and his glasses are cute and oh my GOD when he had long hair!” Mimi gushed, the words messily spilling from her tongue as the tears welled up in her eyes again.

“Oh, Mimi…” Sora frowned. She shot Yolei a look, and Yolei ducked her head.

“I was just trying to help! Mimi should know she’s the ultimate catch! She could get anyone she wants!”

“But I just want Jooooooe!” Mimi sobbed as the waterworks began and the tears broke through, unable to be held back any longer. “He’s so perfect and I love him and I don’t want anyone else!”

“But you could do so much better and he needs to realize what he missed out on!” Yolei said.

“Yolei, I really don’t think this is going to work,” Kari whispered.

“I’m just trying to help her feel better!” Yolei whisper-shouted. However, Mimi was back to sniffling.

“But he’s p-p-perfect for me…” Mimi said, voice tight, before more tears began to spill.

She truly believed it. Sure, she was young, but she wanted to believe in true love. In the idea that she and Joe were meant to be. It made it all the harder to accept that this was how it turned out.

The room fell silent as Mimi started to cry again. After a minute, she grabbed her glass again.

“I mean I just don’t think it’s fair!” Mimi cried out suddenly, her words starting to slur together as she took another gulp of wine.

“No, no, you’re totally right!” Yolei said, hiccuping when she paused for a breath, “It’s not fair and you’re sooooooo right to say it!”

“I mean, just, it’s us, right?” she asked loudly. “It’s always been us! Ever since we went to the Digital World! He was always there for me, and— and I was there for him, and—”

“…You’re not wrong,” Sora said as she crunched on some chips.

“See!”

Yolei leaned over to grab a spoonful from the pint her and Kari were sharing, letting the spoon rest in her mouth.

“That’s why I’m saying you need to fight for him!” Yolei shouted. Kari cringed at the sudden increase in volume.

“Yolei! You said you wouldn’t encourage Mimi to get between them!” Kari chided. Yolei’s exaggerated shrug nearly knocked the spoon from Kari’s hand.

“But wouldn’t you want someone to fight for you? I would! Just think about how romantic that would be!” Yolei insisted. Sora shook her head, clenching her eyes shut as she suddenly felt a wave of dizziness hit her.

“I mean…” Kari mumbled.

“Just imagine! TK and Davis and that guy you talked about who’s in your math class fighting for your affection! Wouldn’t you love that?”

Kari let out a squeak as she covered her mouth, her face reddening even more, if such a thing were possible.

Sora’s eyes widened and she couldn’t help the teasing smile that quickly grew on her features.

“A boy in your math class? Does Tai know about this?” she asked.

“No!” she shouted, the word muffled by her hands. Yolei was cracking up, and even Mimi couldn’t help but feel the slightest bit better (and distracted) by the way they were teasing Kari.

“It shouldn’t be a surprise to anyone that you have everyone fawning over you,” Yolei shrugged.

“She’s right! You’re so adorable, Kari! You’re going to be a real heartbreaker soon,” Mimi said with a wink. She was still teary, still ping-ponging between feeling good and feeling miserable, and even though she knew the alcohol wasn’t helping, she couldn’t help but want to drink. Partly to feel better, but mostly to try and push down those bad feelings by any means possible.

Kari let out a groan as she buried her face in her hands, mortified to a degree which she never had been before.

“Well, clearly Kari likes that idea, no matter what she says,” Yolei grinned, taking a spoonful of ice cream for herself. She washed it down with a gulp of wine, before turning her attention to Sora.

“And Sora, wouldn’t you just loooove for Matt to fight for you?” Yolei asked. Sora rolled her eyes.

“That’s different and you know it,” Sora sighed.

“How so?”

“Because we’re dating! That’s completely different! He would be fighting for his girlfriend! Not fighting for someone who he isn’t in a relationship with!”

The reminder that she wasn’t in a relationship with Joe caused her face to crumple again, and she fell into another bout of sobs, finding solace in another large spoonful of ice cream.

“Mimi, don’t cry,” Sora frowned, “It’ll get better soon.”

“I don’t want it to get better soon,” she said between sniffles, “I want it to get better now!”

She wanted her heart to stop aching constantly.

She didn’t want the thought of seeing Joe to be the most awkward thing in the world.

And she wanted her time back in Japan to actually be happy, and not completely miserable.

Her spoon hit the bottom of the pint with a dull thud, the sound only compounding her sorrow.

Sora crawled along the couch and wrapped her arms around Mimi in a tight hug.

Mimi’s body continued to shake as she sobbed, and both Kari and Yolei stumbled over to the couch to join in.

“I just…!” she sniffled, “I just wanna hold his hand, and-and give him kisses when we meet after school, and hold him, and…!”

Mimi burst into another loud sob, body shaking as those images flashed in her mind, so close, but just out of reach.

“Can I have one more glass, please?” Mimi asked as her friends finally pulled away.

“Mimi, I don’t know if that’s a good idea…” Sora said.

“It’s Mimi’s night! I mean, it’s all of our night but it’s also Mimi’s night! If she wants more wine she gets more wine!” Yolei said. She took the bottle and poured the last of it out into Mimi’s glass. Mimi shifted up in her seat and took a sip.

“Thanks.”

“Look, all I’m saying is I just think Mimi would be in the right if she wanted to get Joe back,” Yolei said.

“It’s not getting him back though, Yolei,” Sora said, “Don’t encourage it!”

Yolei folded her arms, “Well, we know Mimi, but we don’t know Manami! Don’t you want to root for Mimi? Don’t you guys want her to win?”

“It’s not about winning or losing…” Kari told her.

“Yolei, I appreciate it, but…” Mimi trailed off, looking down at the little bit of liquid remaining in her glass.

“Maybe I just… lost my chance,” she finally said, tears running down her cheeks. She continued to look down at her wine as the other girls looked at her with rapt attention. “Maybe I should’ve told him sooner and seen if he wanted to try to date long distance, or… or something.”

No matter how much both Yolei’s voice and her own rang in the back of her mind that she should “fight for her man,” Sora and Kari were right.

“I could never try and tear them apart or get in the middle of it. I want him to be happy.”

But that still didn’t stop the voice. Even if she insisted that yesterday, too, it couldn’t stop that feeling from lingering deep inside.

Sora set a gentle hand on Mimi’s shoulder, “I’m proud of you, Mimi,” she said. Mimi mustered up a weak smile in response.

“Thanks…”

The way her stomach churned unsettled her, and she downed the last gulp of wine, setting the glass down with a shaky hand.

All she had left was some ice cream that was slowly starting to melt.

Kari started to talk to Yolei about her insistence she would want guys to fight for her, unable to help but burst into giggles again partway through, and Mimi fell silent, slowly sipping away at her glass.

She deserved to be happy, too. She deserved to have that chance with Joe. If it didn’t work out, then that was one thing, but she never— they never had a chance to see. As her friends talked and the night crept along more and more, the thought remained at the forefront of her mind.

When there was a lull in the conversation, Mimi managed to place the finally finished quart on the coffee table and shifted on the couch, now resting her head on the arm.

“Would you guys hate me if I did fight for him?” she asked.

“What?” Sora asked.

“Of course not! I’m totally here to cheer you on!” Yolei shouted.

That brought a small smile to Mimi’s face.

“Mimi, I thought you just said you wouldn’t,” Kari said.

“I know! I know, and I’m not saying I would, but like…” she trailed off. Her mind was spinning and it was getting harder to find the words she was looking for.

“What if, is all,” she said.

“…I wouldn’t hate you if you did that, but I would be upset that you decided to do it, especially after you said you wouldn’t,” Sora told her.

“I don’t think any of us could ever hate you, Mimi,” Kari nodded, “But… I would probably feel the same as Sora,” she cringed.

“O-Ok…” she said slowly.

It hurt, but it wasn’t like she could blame them for feeling that way. Maybe she would feel the same way if she actually did try and fight for him and win him over. But at the same time, she just wasn’t sure if she could sit and wait and possibly never get her chance.

Mimi forced out a laugh and rubbed the back of her neck, “It’s probably just the alcohol talking!” she blurted out suddenly, “I’ve had so much to drink tonight.”

Sora shot a look at Yolei, who immediately looked away.

She didn’t exactly feel that way, though. No, she was starting to get stuck on the idea that fighting for Joe was the right thing. She couldn’t help it, she didn’t want to hurt anyone, but she couldn’t stop that idealist nature leading her to think about something so happy and idyllic. For now, she was able to keep the thoughts of Joe being angry at her, hurting him and Manami, and how this could ruin her most valued friendships just out of mind.

“Maybe we should get some sleep. I can go grab some pillows and blankets in the closet,” Yolei said as she managed to push herself to her feet, teetering in place before she managed to get her balance.

“Just don’t wake the Digimon!” Kari said.

“I won’t, I’ll be right back!” Yolei said before she stumbled off to the hallway.

“I’ll go with her just in case she’s too drunk,” Sora said, before getting up and slowly following Yolei down the hall.

Mimi looked over to Kari, unable to help but smile gently.

“How are you holding up for your first time drinking?” she asked.

“Well the room is still kind of spinning so… maybe ok? I could probably be doing a lot worse, I think.”

“Don’t worry, it’ll be worse in the morning,” Mimi chuckled, “I remember my first time drinking. And my first hangover, ugh,” she groaned.

“I’m not looking forward to it,” Kari said, closing her eyes to try and stop the room from moving around so much.

“We’ll get you something in the morning to eat to help. Don’t worry, I won’t leave my girls out to dry.”

“Thanks, Mimi.”

“Of course, sweetie. Oh, and the number one piece of advice I always hear: don’t text while drinking or drunk. Especially not someone you like.”

“I-I think I can do my best to manage that, I mean I don’t have anyone who would even fit that!” Kari said, letting out an awkward laugh as her eyes darted anywhere but at Mimi.

“Don’t worry, my lips are sealed.”

It wasn’t long until Yolei and Sora came stumbling back in, arms so full of pillows and blankets they could barely see past them. Yolei tossed the blankets on the floor and put her hands on her hips.

“Our partners are somehow sleeping soundly, so I think that’s a sign we should, too,” Sora said, craning her neck over to see the clock, seeing it was well after midnight.

“That’s a good idea. I could really use it,” Yolei sighed, as she moved the coffee table out of the way.

Even with the combined effort of the four girls, it took over fifteen minutes to get the blankets and pillows spread out.

“Thanks for tonight, Yolei, this was great,” Mimi said as she pulled a blanket over her, snuggling against her pillow.

“Anytime,” Yolei said, “We need to do another one of these soon.”

“Yeah,” Sora agreed, letting out a gentle hum as she closed her eyes, “Hopefully with less wine, though.”

The girls tittered for a moment, and Mimi rolled over on her side, pawing for her phone which fell between the couch cushions. When she finally grabbed it, she hid it under her blanket to make sure no one would see, and began slowly tapping away a text.

[Tachikawa Mimi]: Heyyyy!

[Tachikawa Mimi]: Hope yuo had a good day!

[Tachikawa Mimi]: Wana hang soon?

[Tachikawa Mimi]: Txt me whenevr!

[Tachikawa Mimi]: Its late tho sry good nihgt! lol

Mimi gently set the phone back on the couch, and as she closed her eyes and began to slowly fade off to sleep, she couldn’t help but feel a little bit better. Maybe sober her in the morning would feel different, but for now, she had a plan, and she was ready.

[clementine-side-blog]

Vera Lee - E.N

Summary: Upon the suicide of a former GCPD employee, Edward mourns her loss. It throws him into a spiral.

Content warning: Mentions of suicide, thoughts of suicide, guilt, heartbreak, ED mention, depression, angst, this is honestly extremely sad :(

Word count: 1.8k

Song for Inspo:

Vera Lee - Insane Clown Posse

"Now it's too late, and every night I hear her in my head."

'I was never nothing popular and neither was she.'

'She was kind though, always had a smile for me.'

Edward walked into the GCPD, hair gelled back as per usual. The rain outside trickled down the gothic windows of the building, the sound becoming a soothing background noise. His shoes clicked against the floor, weaving through the hustle and bustle of the bullpen. Edward waved at some detectives, getting nothing but a side glance from them. He put his hand away, feeling sheepish. He walked down the hallway quickly, wanting to get out of the bullpen as fast as possible.

'I never thought much about her, didn't see her that way.'

'And she was always out sick, missin' every other day.'

"Hi, Ed..." A voice said.

Edward turned around, looking at the person behind him. He looked down at the frail young woman in front of him. A soft pink barrette pined a small bit of her bangs back. It was Y/n L/n. It was very rare for them to show up to work, always doing paperwork from home and sending it via proxy. No one truly knew why.

'Now that I think about it, we was always sayin' "Hello".'

'I always figured cause we were both people alone.'

"Hello." He replied.

The woman smiled softly, looking back to the ground as she walked past him and into the Records Annex. He continued back onto his path to the forensics lab, getting ready to dive straight into work.

'I hardly knew her at all, she sat behind me in some classes.'

'What was really going on behind those glasses?'

~

'When I heard she passed away, I must admit I was sad.'

''Cause of all the mean faces, hers was sweet and always glad.'

The next day at work, Edward walked in once again, going on his usual route. However, when he walked in, he felt an uneasy feeling. Looking around, he noticed a lot of detectives, cops, and records workers talking with each other. The air felt somber and dreadful. Jim looked away from Harvey, gesturing to Ed. The both of them walked over, glancing at each other.

"Morning detectives, what's the matter? Did something happen?" He asked.

"Um, yeah. Y/n from records...committed suicide. She stayed late last night, used some rope from evidence. We found her in the stairwell..." He mumbled.

Edward's eyes widened, he felt a chill go up his spine. Swallowing a lump in his throat, he glanced at the door to the stairs. He looked away, clearing his throat.

"That's a-awful...you just found her?" He asked.

"Yeah, she's still in there. Some men are cutting her down right now." Harvey sighed.

"Did you know her well?" Jim asked.

'I hardly knew her for nothin', I only knew she was cool.'

'A quiet soul, fragile, slipping through the hallways at work.'

"Um, n-no. We only said hi a few times." He replied.

"That's strange then, everyone said you were the only one she talked to. I guess she wasn't that talkative." Jim said.

Edward shook his head, walking towards the stairwell. He gulped, opening it up slowly. He peeked in, eyes widening and gut churning as he saw her body being put into a body bag. The rope still hung from the ceiling. Out of the corner of his eye, he swore he saw her standing. He closed the door quickly, shivering as he felt a breeze against his neck. Edward thought he heard his name being called by her, causing him to walk quickly to the forensics lab.

'And now that she's gone, I can hear her crying my name.'

'Although it doesn't make sense to think about, it's insane.'

He swallowed a lump in his throat, shakily running a hand through his hair. Edward sat down at his desk, propping his elbows up as his breathing quickened in pace. Goosebumps prickled all over his body, even with his warm winter coat on. Once his breathing calmed down, he slumped back in his chair, looking up towards the ceiling.

"Oh God..." He mumbled.

Standing back up, he walked over to the examination table. He was still shaken up from seeing her body. Edward had no idea why he insisted on seeing her, he knew that it would make him uneasy. But, he still did it anyways. He groaned, gripping the ends of the table. Glancing to his desk again, a glint caught his eyes. Walking back over, he looked at the source, an object on his desk. His eyes widened when he saw it, a pit forming in his stomach.

"Her barrette..." He trailed, picking up the pink hair clip.

'But what if I was something special to her 'cause I said "Hi"?'

'What if she would always dream about if I was her guy?'

Edward felt his knees give out, gripping onto the desk. He felt his throat close. His eyes twitched, anxiety filling his body. Quickly, he walked out of the room, carrying the barrette with him. He frantically looked around for Jim Gordon. His breathing had picked up again, his face flushed as he passed the stairwell again. Once his eyes landed on the detective, he rushed over. Jim raised an eyebrow, looking up and down at Ed.

"D-Detective. I found this on my desk..." He panted.

Jim looked at the barrette and looked back at Ed, obviously confused. Harvey stood up from his seat, walking over to join the two of them.

"I-It's y/n's barrette. I th-think she left it on my desk..." He said.

"Why would she do that?" Harvey asked.

'And what if those "Hello"s that we shared went a long way?'

'What if she felt for me, like, in a strong way?'

'What if she was ill but always tried to make it in?'

'Just to see me in the halls and share our "Hello"s again?'

Jim looked at Ed, his face falling as he thought about it. Edward dropped the barrette, his hands running through is hair. Jim picked up the hair clip, handing it back to Edward. He shakily took it, sliding it into the pocket of his jacket. Jim placed a hand on Edward's shoulder, which made Harvey catch on to what was going on. He sighed deeply, shaking his head and sitting back down.

"You don't think she...did she?" Edward choked out.

Jim looked to the ground, shrugging.

"I-I'm not sure, Ed. I can't think of another reason she would leave it on your desk..." He said.

"Oh God..." Edward mumbled.

"Hey, don't blame yourself for this, Ed. You are not to blame." Jim ordered sternly.

"Yeah, Ed. Don't do that to yourself." Harvey added.

'Why is Y/n L/n, haunting me, here with me?'

'Y/n L/n watching me carefully...'

'Why?'

'Is she callin' out to me?'

'To me!'

Edward shook his head, turning around quickly and walking through the bullpen. He felt like everyone was looking at him, guilt flooding his body. He felt cold and uneasy. His eyes widened as he saw a gurney pull out of the stairwell, carrying y/n's lifeless body. His vision got blurry, seeing y/n walk out of the doorway of the stairs. He gasped, rubbing his eyes roughly and blinking hard.

For the rest of the day, Edward worked, albeit distractedly. He was eager for the day to end, wanting to go home as soon as possible. Once his shift ended, he left the GCPD without saying anything to anyone. He got in his car and drove home, immediately getting ready for bed. His head hit his pillow as he stared at the ceiling and held the barrette in his hand. He lifted it up, looking at it.

'She was pale, and looked so ill and so frail.'

Edward remembered how she looked, skinny and tired all of the time. Y/n always had bags under her eyes, dark circles against pale skin. He began to think about why she looked like that. He groaned, holding his head in his hands as he thought of her having an eating disorder. Sitting up from bed, he tugged at his hair.

'Maybe she looked at my life, and how it's so stale.'

'And thought "We're both outcast, maybe we could have each other?"'

'It flew right over my head, I never even bothered.'

Edward rocked back and forth, barrette gripped tightly in his hand. His knuckles turned white as he mumbled to himself. His hair was rustled, messy and knotted from tugging and messing with it all day. He breathed shakily, groaning once again.

"Oh God, what if she wanted me to say something to her? I never even thought about it. What if she was hoping I would talk to her more?" He cried softly.

'Now it's too late, and every night I hear her in my head.'

'Begging me to join her with the dead, man.'

'To think about it's so strange, I hear her singin' my name!'

'Y/n L/n is hauntin' my brain! I hear her in the rain!'

Edward shook his head, getting up out of bed and closing the curtains of his bedroom. He sobbed, mumbling to himself over and over again. His body prickled with goosebumps again, his entire body shivering.

'Edward, I love you...'

He cried out, holding the barrette close to his heart. He fell down to his knees, his tears falling down and staining his white shirt. His glasses were sliding down his nose, causing him to push them back up. He pulled his knees to his chest, burying his face in his legs.

"I didn't know! Wh-why did you do this?!" He asked between sobs.

'I love you, Edward...'

"I know that now! But, I didn't then! And I'm sorry!" He cried out, tears streaming down his face.

'Y/n L/n haunting me, here with me.'

'Y/n L/n watching me carefully.'

Edward sobbed into his legs, the rain trickling down his windows. Each drop sounded like y/n crying his name. He could feel his brain get fuzzy, his sobs making his head hurt even more. Groaning, he covered his ears with his hands.

"I'm s-sorry, I wish I would have know. I w-would have done something. Please, leave me alone! I would have loved you too, but I didn't know! Please!" He pleaded.

He rocked back and forth, mumbling 'I'm sorry' over and over again to himself. The rain continued to pour down and turned into a depressing white noise. It was like a static in his brain that made him numb. His eyes were cloudy with tears and the barrette in his hand had left an indent in his skin from clenching it so tightly. Y/n's voice left eventually, but Edward's guilt did not. He would continue to feel like this for a while, keeping her barrette for the rest of his life. Over time, his guilt melted away. But, his love for y/n grew stronger every day. Deep down, he hoped that she was happier where she was now. And, he would do his best to keep her memory alive in his heart always.

[tamesg]

Friday Night

I’d been watching the swell and crash of the waves for what felt like hours. They moved with an almost mechanical precision - too regular, almost, like the breathing of someone deeply asleep. Foam gathered at their edges, neither quite white nor yellow, but a colour that seemed to resist definition. My eyes had begun to ache from the watching, and I couldn’t remember blinking. It was then that I was pulled back to reality by the sound of my friend’s voice: ‘I’m going to do it,’ he said. 

‘Sorry?’ I asked, and narrowed my eyes at him.

‘I’m going to turn someone into a chicken,’ he said, and gave a slight shrug. ‘I just this second decided to.'

The words sounded like a joke, like something someone would say to get a laugh, or for shock value. But something about the way he said them made me wonder whether he was serious; there was a cool nonchalance about him, as though this - turning people into chickens - were something obvious, routine. 

‘What do you mean?’

He shrugged again. ‘It’s easy. I’ve been working as a hypnotist for a while. And people like to joke.’ He looked directly at me, or maybe through me. ‘You’ve even joked. “Ohh, don't make eye contact with me! I don’t wanna become a chicken or anything, haha!”’

‘It's an odd profession, that's all. Or, unusual.’

His lips crept into a smile at the word ‘odd’. He lit a cigarette, and watched the flame for several seconds longer than necessary. ‘What if I did it, though?’

‘But that’s crazy talk.’ From across the balcony, I could feel the heat of the cigarette reach me, though I knew this was impossible.

He took a drag on that same cigarette. ‘Is it?’

‘It is. Stage shows are just pretend. I think you even told me that, once. It’s just exhibitionism. An excuse for people to go stupid. They have permission, under the circumstances, so they do it.’

He stood with a stillness that made me wonder whether he was breathing. Finally, he flicked the ashes from his cigarette, and the wind, which had grown a little stronger, carried them out to sea. ‘Mmm. Still. You’ve seen my work. You know that extraordinary things are possible. A life-long affliction gone in moments. Healing someone’s heartbreak with a couple shifts in perspective.’ He stubbed out the cigarette, a movement that was sudden and precise, like footage spliced together with frames missing. ‘Even as we’ve been talking, you’ve found yourself growing a little more relaxed, haven’t you?’

‘Well, yes.’

‘All that from conversation.’ He traced a finger along the railing, leaving behind a faint smudge. I watched it, unable to look away. ‘We come out to the balcony, say a few words, and you begin to find comfort in that. It’s amazing how little it takes to induce a change in someone’s state. A change that…along with the rise and fall of your breathing…can begin to deepen, now.’ His voice was low, and not unpleasant. But he stopped, here, and said nothing else. The silence between us stretched until it felt physical, like a third presence on the balcony.

‘It’s a relaxing Friday night,’ I said, hoping to break the silence. ‘Of course I’m relaxed and comfortable.’ I looked down at the water, the waves folding into themselves with gentle precision, though there was something off-centre about them.

He tilted his head towards me. ‘That’s right. And I’m sure that as you hear the sound of my voice, and of the waves below…you might begin to notice how you’ve turned your attention inward…and it can be so easy, to wonder whether something crazy might be possible. After all, you already know what it's like to change…and the more you wonder, consciously, the more you might realize-‘

I stopped him. ‘Okay, I see what you’re doing. Very funny.’ 

Though I did wonder. And I was beginning to feel strange - hearing his voice, I felt, in a way, heavier, like my bones had stretched, or thickened. My fingers were swollen against the metal railing, its coolness somehow both soothing and invasive against my flesh. And there was a shift in my insides, as though my organs had become tiny rocks.

‘It's growing cold,’ he said, and I found myself nodding, though I couldn't feel the temperature anymore, only the weight of my head as it moved. The railing left indentations on my palms when I pulled away, little crescent moons pressed into the flesh.

He opened the sliding door with a whisper of glass against track. I followed, watching my feet carry me forward with methodical steps that felt both mine and not mine. Inside, the apartment seemed larger somehow, the furniture arranged at unfamiliar angles. He gestured to the couch, and I sat, sinking into cushions that yielded beneath me like wet sand.

'Are you comfortable?’ he asked, and I wondered if my mouth would still form words if I tried to answer.

[redxpranger]

1/15/2025 🦖

My fondness for animated films is something I don’t often share, especially since I rely on them to help me sleep. These shows comfort me, keeping nightmares at bay and making me feel less lonely. Alongside my trusty pillow barricade, they create a sense of safety that I’ve held onto since I was a child.

This habit of playing animated shows and leaving the TV on until I fall asleep began when I was eight years old. It seems to resurface only during times when I’m not feeling okay. The soothing sounds of the shows and the soft glow of the screen create a comforting and safe space, helping me feel a little less alone.

It all began one early morning on a school day when I was sick, lying alone on the living room couch. Around that time, I first fell in love with the early hours of 3 to 5 a.m., when Hey Arnold! and SpongeBob SquarePants aired on TV. Strangely enough, I actually hated Hey Arnold!—his football-shaped head drove me crazy. Yet, I watched it religiously, purely to amuse myself with how annoyed I got. Looking back, it still makes me laugh 😂

Lately, I’ve been reminiscing about life before streaming platforms existed. Back then, you had to memorize TV schedules and plan your day just to catch your favorite shows. I still remember the sadness of missing a new episode of WWE or the pure joy when my brother and I stayed home to watch the shows we both loved. I also remember the excitement of sleeping over at my grandparents’ house, especially after my parents decided to opt out of subscribing to TV channels at home. I would stubbornly refuse to sleep since all the best shows were aired late at night or early in the morning.

Today, with streaming platforms, we can watch anything, anywhere, anytime. While I’m grateful for the convenience, I feel lucky to have experienced those simpler times, where the anticipation and excitement of “TV time” made it all the more special.

Even now, I stay up-to-date with new animated films, though there are some I can’t stand. For instance, I’ve never admitted this before, but I really dislike Bluey. HAHAHA! Her attitude drives me crazy, and I honestly find her worse than Peppa Pig.

At one point, I remember wanting to study how the shows my younger cousins watched influenced their character, speech, and thinking. I’ve always been intrigued by how media consumption shapes people—it’s a subtle yet powerful way to understand someone or even influence them. It fascinates me because art, in all its forms, holds immense power, yet it often goes unnoticed by most. Unfortunately, that research never happened, as I rarely get to spend time with the kids. Still, it’s fascinating to think about how much of ourselves is shaped by the art we consume. That’s why I find questions like "What films do you watch?" or "What’s your favorite film?" to be so personal—they feel like I’m exposing parts of myself, laying bare things I might not be ready to share.

It saddens me that many children today are missing out on healthy, meaningful animated shows like Go! Go! Cory Carson and Trash Truck on Netflix. These shows exemplify kindness, creativity, and the beauty of friendship and family. They model what it means to own your mistakes and make amends, while also celebrating the beauty of family and the joy of true friendship. I can’t help but wish more kids—and parents—knew about these gems.

I have to confess: I’m still heartbroken over Gravity Falls. When the series ended, it felt like a piece of my world had disappeared. It took me years to move on, and even now, seeing it on Disney+ stirs up old emotions. But with time, I’ve come to appreciate the writer’s brilliance in creating a fitting ending for such an incredible show. 👏🏼

I’m currently experiencing the same heartbreak with Go! Go! Cory Carson. Last year, I even emailed the creators, expressing how much the show means to me and asking if there were plans for another season. Unlike Gravity Falls, this show had no ending—it was just discontinued, and that feels so unfair! 🥺 I even found myself crying at random moments because I love the show so much. I wanted everyone to watch it, to support the talented team behind it, and to help bring it back.

Moments like these remind me how emotional and soft I am, but I think that’s okay. 😏 My love for Go! Go! Cory Carson and Trash Truck runs deep because these shows are truly special. They teach invaluable lessons about family, friendship, empathy, and creativity in ways that resonate with people of all ages. I just hope one day they’ll get the attention they deserve.

[pookacangetit]

A Series of Sumeru Mishaps [Double Trouble SAGAU]

A body double takes on the land of wisdom and dreams. Meanwhile, the ordinary and extraordinary folk alike are swept into the maelstorm of chaos that is their Creator's 'international ambassador'.

Aka the -Sumeru 3.0 update consumed me like fungi so here we are- special edition. Also known as -Tighnari didn't come home and threw a Jean at me so I'm venting- edition.

MASTERLIST

Sumeru was brimming with both life and death, which you came to learn when you stumbled onto a patch of land reeking of absolute corruption. It was a horrifying yet heartbreaking sight, where the vitality of nature was poisoned by the strange red plants, the air itself suffocated your lungs with the stench of death.

"This looks really terrifying realistically..." You murmured, about to bolt the other way when you noticed something peculiar and green dogging your footsteps, "Huh?"

Patches of fresh grass trailed behind you, like you had purified the very land you stepped on. It was quickly overtaken by the withering again but you had enough time to process what you just saw.

"... can I simply stomp out those withering tumors?"

✾~✾~✾

"Someone already dealt with the withering zone in the southeast?" Tighnari questioned, ears standing rigid in his confusion as he stared at the forest ranger.

"Huh, how strange... whoever our little helper is they are either unfortunate enough to stumble into the withering zone or foolish enough to deal with it on their own." Tighnari didn't mince his words.

In the back of Tighnari's mind, he wondered if this had any connection to the appearance of the Creator's sibling before he shook his head. While the sibling has proven themselves to be highly troublesome- the sibling's tendency to tackle and cuddle the wildlife instantly came to mind- they wouldn't be that reckless, right?

Right???

Somewhere, a sneeze sounded from amongst a cuddle pile consisting of Rishboland tigers and a tired body double.

The customers of Lambad's tavern have grown used to the sight of the Creator's international ambassador lounging around like a sun-tanning cat. What they haven't grown used to, however, was the utter strangeness of their actions.

Every evening, the ambassador would walk into the tavern and take the empty table in the far corner. Ordering only a drink and dessert, they would blankly stare at the wall for hours before they leave.

One day, Lambad decided to finally ask about his strange customer's behaviour- it wasn't because several concerned customers gave him an exorcist’s phone number, of course not-.

The answer Lambad received only unnerved him even further.

"Oh, the music for your tavern is quite soothing to listen to." The ambassador replied nonchalantly.

Somehow, Lambad felt cold amidst the warm atmosphere of his own tavern.

The tavern owner stumbled, confused and a little terrified, "But- the tavern doesn't play music?"

A cryptid smile was his final answer, and Lambad ran away under the guise of getting more food. The ambassador's humming haunted his retreating figure.

The gossip rushing through Sumeru that evening only strengthened the rumours of a 'mad foreigner' or 'the Creator hears the music of the winds, serenaded by the adoring Anemo Archon'.

Surprisingly enough, those two rumours never got connected to one another.

✾~✾~✾

"As the Creator's ambassador and body double you must be aware of the dangers the rainforest presents, correct?" Tighnari's ears twitched in irritation as you guiltily knelt dogeza-style before him.

"So why would you fool-hardily run to a ruin drake and let it attack you? Have you lost your sense of awareness? Did you perhaps eat one of those mushrooms I specifically told you not to?"

The forest ranger's calm voice took an underlining growl, stifling his instincts to lock you in his room and prevent you from running headfirst into danger.

Perhaps you won't notice if your injuries took you a little longer to heal?

"... OST."

Tighnari snapped out of his thoughts, "Pardon?"

You sheepishly avoided his stern gaze, "The battle OST was so good that I have the habit of... finding new enemies just to listen to it?"

"... so you did eat those hallucinogenic mushrooms."

✾~✾~✾

Port Ormos was no stranger to eccentric individuals, especially since it readily welcomes and houses Akademiya students who had to trade their genius minds for something- if you'd questioned the older folk around the docks, they would tell you of a strange Akademiya student who used to come around the evening to throw bags into the river while cackling. It was only after that student's expulsion did people realised those bags he threw were his failed experiments: dead mice, dead fungi, missing people, etc.-

It was quite normal to see a student from the Akademiya having an existential crisis or being arrested in public. But the person wildly dancing in the middle of the street was not from the Akademiya.

In fact, the madman strangely resembled the tiny memorial statues of the Creator.

"Mom, is that person alright?" A young boy innocently pointed at the twirling figure.

His mother quickly ushered him away, "Ignore them, sweetie, and pray to the Creator that their troubled soul is laid to rest."

"If fungi bad, why cute?" Arapaha had no idea how to deal with the Rainbow Not-Nara. The trees had welcomed the Not-Nara with wealthy growth, the winds joyously sang and the waters have turned a pure blue for the return of the Rainbow Not-Nara.

And yet-

"Release the bad shroom-kin, Rainbow Not-Nara! Shroom-kin bad, and not cute!" Aragana, their youngest, fumed, bouncing as they angrily waved their stick at the Rainbow Not-Nara.

This particular group of Aranara had stumbled upon their Rainbow Not-Nara by accident, having followed the sound of someone singing Arana's music off-key.

They expected to find the Golden Nara and Paimon, though the Golden Nara's singing was more harmonious and deeper than this particular voice.

The Rainbow Not-Nara choking cuddling a group of fungi in the middle of a cave was certainly not what they expected to find.

The Rainbow Not-Nara's aura turned gloomy, like blackened skies and red cubes descending, as their grasp around the unusually still fungi tightened, "Fungi is cute!"

"That's not true!" Aragana blustered, "Aragana is way more good than that bad shroom-kin! A-And way more cuter!"

Silence descended upon the clearing.

"Aragana, if you wanted me to hold you too you could've just say so..." Rainbow Not-Nara spoke gently, like dewdrops upon the fragile leaves in the midst of a rainstorm, loosening their grip to make room for the stuttering Aranara.

The fungus made its move at that very moment.

"AHHH BAD SHROOM-KIN!! RELEASE THE RAINBOW NOT-NARA'S FACE BAD SHROOM-"

You: it's an onion

Doppelgänger: for the last time it's a tree-

You: *waves at the Tree of Dreams* it's just a gigantic space onion, you can't change my mind

Doppelgänger: You- Traveler, tell them!

Traveler: ... Paimon thought it was a giant onion when we found it too

Paimon: You traitor! You asked that Aranara if the tree was edible!

[caspercryptid]

Hiii! This might be a weirdly specific ask but I loved the way you wrote timebomb on the overwatch au. Would you mind a drabble about timebomb with the hanahaki au? (If that's even how you spell it) and to make it extra interesting maybe jinx has the disease

That's actually the perfect level of specificity! textbook perfect ask, 10/10. TWs for Jinx's psychosis, blood, and choking in the usual hanahaki ways. Thank you for the timebomb ask, love them, don't write nearly enough of them. (Want my playlist for them?)

---

The hardest part is hiding it from Silco.

You’d think it would be the illness itself– the hacking cough that shakes her whole body and makes her feel like she’s going to snap in two, makes her want to reach inside her chest and tear her stupid traitorous heart out. Or maybe you’d think it would be the nasty way the flowers taste or the way they fuck her aim up when she has to stop and breathe through it, or maybe breathing. Maybe you’d think that breathing would be hard. Maybe you’d think heartbreak would be hard, but it isn’t, it’s easy, it’s so. So fucking easy. It’s the easiest thing in the whole world, she’s been handling it over a decade now, she’s loved him almost as long as she’s been alive and he’s hated her for half of it. It’s easy. Dying of it would be easy too. It would be the easiest thing in the world. She felt like she was killing her long before it actually started killing her.

So maybe if she could just lie down and let it kill her she would.

But Silco’s worried, so she’s been careful, in a way that it’s hard to be, so fucking hard to be, all the time, the screaming and shaking things in her head that always make her feel like she’s spiralling down some tunnel she won’t climb out of. It makes it hard to concentrate sometimes, to keep a clear goal and outline and plan in her head. So no one thinks she can. So that makes it easier. She can get away with things because she does them in the spaces between breaths and plans them out with the same attention she pays to the math of her engineering. She’d never make the mistakes she made as a kid again. Her machines would work. Her wiring would connect. Her shots would land. She’d learn the blueprints down to the line till she could draw them on walls in the dark. She did, sometimes. Sometimes just got through the first broad strokes till she was sure she remembered the angles before she switched to drawing a monkey. It was soothing, knowing exactly where her pen or her paint can was going. Vectors, velocities, other words that began with V. Verisimilitude.

Off track again. She’d planned waste disposal like she was building another bomb. She’d carried napkins on her, coughed only when there were other sounds and she was out of sightline. Thankfully, the flowers were pretty common. Ghost pipe grew out of the gutters, had complex systems with their stems from the strange chemical mud by the rivers and down the alleys. They were beautiful. She thought about it sometimes. That they were beautiful. As bleached out as his hair. At least she could die to something beautiful. Whenever she thought about it too much she could hear Mylo in her head laughing at her, so she tried not to. That’s stupid. She just needed to focus on getting rid of them. She dumped them back into the gutters, never the trash cans inside. She didn’t cough in front of him. She didn’t cough in front of him. She didn’t cough in front of anyone, except Mylo, who knew all her dark secrets anyway and anyway he wasn’t real it didn’t matter if he saw her it didn’t matter if he was laughing at her he wasn’t real.

And that would have been fine, except she’d messed up.

In front of Sevika.

They were fighting– she’d fucked something up, she didn’t remember what, and Sevika was getting that particularly brutal set jaw she got sometimes when she was really thinking that Jinx had put Silco in danger, and it wasn’t fair, it wasn’t fair that they both loved him and they both wanted the same thing and that they couldn’t get along they fought all the time. And something slips sideways in Jinx’s head and she’s thinking about something else, she’s thinking about people who want the same thing and can’t seem to talk and maybe if they just talked they could figure it out maybe if stupid boys would stop looking at her like she’s a ghost–

It seizes in her throat, and she doubles over. She tries to pretend like she’s laughing, tries to piss Sevika off enough to get her to stomp off, but the blood comes up faster than she can stop it and splashes through her fingers, hitting the wooden floor of the storeroom the same time her knees do.

“–Jinx–”

Jinx doesn’t think she’s ever heard Sevika use that tone on her before, or she half thinks it, because really she’s thinking fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck and it hurts, fuck it hurts, it’s hard to get it out of her throat and she can’t breathe and she’s wheezing, and then she’s hacking blood and flower petals up onto Sevika’s legs, because Sevika is kneeling in front of her, and she has just enough time to process that before Sevika hits her in the back and knocks the last of the stem out of her throat. They stay there in silence for a bit, broken only by Jinx desperately stealing back her breath, trying to piston the air back into her lungs in rough and seizing breaths.

“Fuck.” Sevika says, and Jinx just nods.

“How long?” She asks, and Jinx wipes her mouth.

“Months.” She mumbles. “Might, uh. Be longer than months. I don’t remember when I got the first ones.”

“You haven’t told Silco.” It’s not a question, though it begs the question. Jinx shakes her head no anyway, and then asks, tentative–

“What would he... do?”

Sevika snorts, once. “No idea. But you gotta tell him.”

“Why. I’m– dying anyway.”

Sevika sighs. “Well, one. Because if you don’t, I will.”

Jinx can’t even really be angry about that. She’d do the exact same thing if Sevika was sick. They understood each other.

“–and two,” Sevika continues, “Because if you just up and die on him, no warning, nothing? He wouldn’t be able to handle it. He’d break. You know that.”

Jinx does know that, but didn’t want to think about it. She looks down at the flowers across the floor, across both of their legs.

“–Can you give me a day?” She asks, finally. “Give me a day. I’ll handle it.”

Sevika eyes her. “You’re not gonna do something stupid, are you?”

“You think everything I do is stupid.” Jinx says, as she starts to climb up on unsteady legs. To her surprise, Sevika stands first and offers her a hand, pulling her up.

“Twenty four hours.” Sevika says. “And you’d better look better, kid. Your aim’s been deteriorating. Don’t think you can say it’s fixed and lie.”

“I won’t.” Jinx says, meaning it, and then sticks out her tongue and blows a raspberry before she ducks around Sevika and darts out the door. “Clock starts now!” she calls.

“Clock already started!” Sevika yells after her, but Jinx is already gone.

___

It’s not hard to find Ekko’s base, but she doesn’t go in. She figures the best way to draw him out is to do something loud a few blocks away and wait.

Or, at least, she was going to do something loud. But she’d forgotten to bring her guns, because this was a peaceful mission, or whatever. So she doesn’t quite know how to get his attention, but there is a really miserably white stretch of undisturbed wall down the alley, and well–

The mural’s gotten fairly elaborate by the time she hears the footsteps down the alley. They’re tentative, not quite at the pace of someone incoming with a gun, and not quite the right weight either. They sound like his, but Jinx hears things sometimes, all sorts of things, and Ekko’s footsteps would absolutely be something she’d hear if she let herself zone out long enough, left her mind alone to run like a hamster on a wheel, so it’s not until he calls out that she looks over.

“What are you– doing, exactly?”

“Painting.” She says. “Duh.”

“Why?” He asks, guarded, and Jinx looks at him.

“–you came alone.” She realizes. It shouldn’t affect her. It shouldn’t matter. That was stupid of him, though, he shouldn’t come fight her alone, he should be trying to protect himself from her.

“So did you.” He says.

“Yeah, but I—” She can feel the tickle in her throat, and she swallows, realizing she doesn’t have a plan. Ekko frowns.

“You’re kinda freaking me out.” He says, sticking his hands in his pockets. “What are you doing here?”

Jinx wants to answer, she really does, but actually looking at him gets her in the chest, and before she can she doubles over, coughing hard, and in her peripheral vision Ekko lunges forward, catches her before she hits the ground as it rips through her. She thinks about fungal root systems– the way love is always there under the surface and growing and she thinks about it because every little tendril and filament burns as she lets out a hacking cough, and it’s warm, she’s warm as she’s lowered to the ground in Ekko’s arms, which makes it worse, and she can feel her eyes stinging as she shakes, she must be sobbing, the force of trying to hack the flowers up is ripping through her, and there’s blood and warmth and pain and then there’s—

Ekko’s mouth on hers.

She reels for a second, but he doesn’t pull away when she freezes, just reaches up to hold her cheek in his hand, pressing closer. Assuring her this is real, making himself solid and close and comfortable, and she remembers to kiss him back, throws her arms around his neck and hold on, and it aches, still, but it’s a good ache. It’s like the sting of her hands when she let go of the bat she’d played with as a kid, the ache of her arm after the pitch, her legs when they were playing. His thumb reaches up to wipe away the corner of her eye, the tears still falling, and he pulls away.

“We’re even.” he mutters.

“Even?” she asks, quietly.

He snorts, once, and then pulls a handkerchief out of his pocket and snaps it open. Freesias fall out of it, all colors, the kind she’d scouted out of Piltover’s trash out of a kid, dumped off from old displays. She picks one up as she presses her cheek into his shoulder, settled into his lap, cupping it in her hands.

“–these are the freshest I've ever seen them.” She says.

“You loved them. Knew it had to be you.”

She doesn’t ask why he didn’t come find her. She presses her face into his shoulder.

“–I’m glad I got to save you too.” She murmurs. “For once.”

He presses her cheek to her hair.

“...same to you.”

[seriouslysnape]

Hi!❣️ Your writing is pretty cool, and I love the way you portray Sev, especially!

If it isn't a bother, of course... Could I make a request? Where Snape and the Reader are expecting, and go through all the nine months (like, through things like cravings, mood swings Snaddy has to endure, buying the child's stuff and decorating the room, all of that), till delivery? Only if you'd like the 'prompt', of course.

Wish you a nice day☺️

I LOVE THISSSSSS. YES DAD SEV >>>

__

Paternal Figure

Severus Snape x Fem. Reader

Warnings: Language, Emetephobia, Sexual implications.

Word Count: 5,161

“We’re going to be one happy family.”

__

“How much longer?” Severus questioned, eyeing the pregnancy test that was lying face down on the bathroom counter.

You looked at your wrist watch that was secured on your trembling hand. You saw that it had been more than enough time for the pregnancy test to do its job. A quivering sigh flowed from your chest as you reached for the test with trembling fingers.

“It should be ready.” You replied.

Severus sat up straighter from where he sat on the bathroom floor, his blood pumping with eagerness and nervousness. You held the test to your chest for a second with your eyes closed and head lulled towards the ceiling.

You and Severus wanted a baby badly. After being married for a few years, the baby fever was becoming harder to resist between the two of you combined. It started out as a casual thing. Severus first briefly mentioned how there was still an empty room in the house that needed to be occupied. You assumed that he meant as an office space or maybe even a large walk in closet.

But when Severus suggested that the two of you turn that space into a nursery, you knew what he was implying. You had always wanted to have kids with Sev. In the beginning, Severus wasn’t totally sure how he felt about having a baby. He wasn’t great with younger people, and he was always afraid he wouldn’t be a good dad.

However, the longer the two of you were together and the more life you shared together, the more he wanted nothing more than to put a baby in you. He wanted to raise a child and teach it all the wonders of the wizarding world. He wanted your baby to be perfect.

The two of you sat and chatted for a long time about it, not wanting to rush into things. It was a huge deal after all; bringing a human into the world was a life changing ordeal. You talked it over, and you both happily agreed that you would start trying for a baby.

You admittedly became a little obsessed with getting pregnant in the first few months. You tracked your menstrual and ovulation cycles much more than usual, eventually memorizing everything down to the minute. You tried any wizard (and even a few Muggle) tricks in the book to increase your chances of conceiving, including basically pouncing on Severus any chance he was around.

If you had a free minute to spare, you were shoving him into bed and having sex with him. At first, Severus found it rather endearing that you were so excited to have a kid, but he became concerned as time went on. Getting pregnant isn’t always a quick process. Some women can so much as look at their husband and get results while some spend a better half of their life trying to even get a positive pregnancy test.

You were proving to be one of the harder cases.

With each negative pregnancy test, the more frantic you became. You felt like your fertility window was closing in on you rapidly, and if you didn’t get pregnant soon, it’d be too late. The first few negatives didn’t phase you much, but by the fifth or sixth, you were feeling discouraged. Severus was much more patient than you during all of this, holding you flush to him when you burst into tears of frustration.

It had become a monotonous and vicious cycle. You’d try to get pregnant, buy a pregnancy test, get a negative result, and fall into a weeping heap onto the bathroom floor. After one particularly hard let down, Severus stepped in. He was rocking your sobbing frame in his arms, hushing you and comforting you as best he could.

He suggested that the two of you take a break for a while, and that maybe you were trying too hard. The stress couldn’t have been good for you as a whole, and maybe taking a more casual approach would be best.

“Here’s what I’m thinking, my love. You and I take this step by step. We continue life as normal,” He said softly; “If you get pregnant then that’s good, and if you don’t, then we remain calm and try again. If much longer goes by, then we can go see your doctor.”

You nodded into his chest with heartbreaking sobs, agreeing that this had taken a huge toll on your body. You apologized for your crazy behavior, but Severus only gave a light laugh and kissed your head.

“No, no, my dear. Don’t be sorry. I want this just as much as you do.” He consoled, sweeping you off of the floor.

You were a bit apprehensive about Severus’ approach to this, but you were willing to try anything. Fast forward a few weeks later, and this was the first test you had taken since taking Severus’ advice.

“Sev...” You croaked out; “What if it’s negative?”

You were sitting against the door in your tiny bathroom, Severus sitting on the wall across from you. Your knees were almost touching one another’s as he replied.

“Then we accept it, take a few days, and try again. It’ll be alright, [Y/N].” He reassured, resting a hand on your knee in a loving way.

You exhaled deeply, already half expecting to be disappointed. You nodded, and quickly flipped the test so you could read it. Your heart hit your feet and bounced back into your ribcage at the sight. You were stoically silent as you stared in silence at the test.

Severus was watching with a clenched jaw, prepared to comfort you in case it wasn’t what you wanted to see. You kept looking at it for a few more seconds to make sure you weren’t dreaming. The double pink lines were as clear as day.

You were pregnant.

Tears filled your eyes, but they were tears of happiness. You turned the test so he could see it.

“It’s positive,” You said, smiling through the tears streaming your face; “We’re going to have a baby.”

Severus’ jaw fell open and stars of delight shot over his eyes. He himself gazed down at the test as if it would explode right in his hands.

“You’re pregnant...” He breathed out.

You nodded, wiping away at the tears with a genuine laugh. A blinding smile appeared on Severus’ face as he moved to pull you into a tight embrace. A few tears leaked from his eyes as well, the two of you mumbling “I love yous” to each other as you cried out the adrenaline and undeniably glee that you were feeling. It had almost been a year since you started trying, and now it seemed that it had paid off.

You were going to be parents.

__

The first trimester of your pregnancy was less than pleasant. While you were eternally grateful to be carrying your first child, you weren’t too thrilled about the symptoms that came with it. You were violently sick for the first few weeks, basically bringing back up anything you tried to hold down. Even something as mild as pumpkin juice was enough to make you sick just from the smell.

As disgusting as it was, Severus was by your side any time you fell ill.

“It’s okay, darling. Let it all out.” He soothed, rubbing circles onto your back as you let out another hurl.

You seemingly puked up everything you had eaten in the last ten years into the toilet bowl, a new groan escaping your chest every time you had a chance to take a breath. Severus kept your hair out of your face as best as he could, trying not to visibly grimace every time you threw up.

You closed the lid of the toilet for a minute, draping your arm over the top of it and resting your forehead on the heated skin of your forearm.

“Don’t look at me. I don’t want you to see me like this.” You grumbled miserably.

He gave a chuckle, and even though you couldn’t see it, he raised his left hand to reveal his silver wedding ring.

“In sickness and in health.” He said, wrapping his long legs around your from behind, resting his head on your back.

“I think this is an exception to that vow.” You joked, hoping that the relief you were feeling was to signal the end of today’s sickness.

Severus hummed.

“I think that this is exactly what it was referring to,” He corrected, his heart fluttering when you lifted your head with a weak smile; “Just as beautiful as ever.”

You snorted at that, but you were heartwarmed.

“How did I ever deserve you?” You asked, falling into his open arms.

“I could ask you the same thing.”

When you were actually able to have an appetite, you wanted any and every food imaginable. The pregnancy cravings were insanely hard to ignore, and it was even harder to ignore the weird things you craved.

“What...is that?” Severus questioned cautiously as he entered the kitchen, catching you in the middle of biting something he couldn’t even discern.

You looked at him with wide eyes and stopped mid-chomp. You didn’t respond, not even sure how to explain this to him. His gaze averted to the open pantry, and saw that mostly everything had been raided and placed on the kitchen counter. He had noticed that satisfying your cravings had proven to be the most difficult thus far. He inspected the food item in your hand and his stomach lurched when he realized what it was.

“Is that a treacle tart with...” He trailed off, barely able to finish the thought.

You finished his sentence, rather ashamed.

“...pickles.” You confessed.

Severus was sure that his face had turned a nasty shade of green at the thought of your concoction. He shuddered and made you put it down. You had always been creative and experimental in the kitchen, but this was too far.

“Okay, I’ve been supportive of every strange food combination you’ve come up with, but I draw the line at treacle pickle tarts.” He said with a voice full of amusement.

You whined.

“I know it’s weird, but I can’t help it. Everything we have sounds good.”

He scratched the back of his head. He never liked to tell you how to live your life, but there was no way that this was good for you or the baby.

“I don’t think Little One is going to appreciate pickles and desserts.” He noted, placing a hand on your very small baby bump.

“Little One” was the nickname that he had coined for your developing child. You and Severus had decided early on that you wanted to keep the baby’s gender a surprise up until delivery. Severus hated to keep referring to the baby as...well, “the baby”. So he had instinctively come up with all kinds of nicknames along the way.

“Well, I’m pretty sure that Little One is the only reason I want pickles.” You snapped back.

“It’s not the pickles. It’s the pickles with the tart that I can’t stomach.” Severus explained.

You sneered at him, but Severus continued before you could snark back at him.

“I’ll tell you what, princess. How about we whip up a bunch of your favorite foods, and we’ll have a nice dinner together?” He offered.

Your belly grumbled at the sound of that. You nodded in agreement, and you and Severus prepared a heavenly meal.

On top of the all day morning sickness and the nauseating cravings, your hormones were going absolutely nuts. You had never experienced such frequent mood changes like this, and poor Severus was the victim of all your emotional outbursts. It seemed as if you were blowing up at the smallest of details.

“Damn it, Sev. How many times have I told you not to leave your socks on the floor?” You hissed, angrily picking up his dirty socks.

Severus poked his head out of the bathroom that was adjoined to your bedroom, a guilty look on his face.

“Oh, sweetheart, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize I left them there.” He said truthfully.

“Just like how you didn’t realize that you left the sink faucet dripping or how you forgot to put the pillows back on the bed when you got up at 10 in the morning?” You mocked, throwing his socks into his laundry basket.

He caught how aggravated you were, and exited the bathroom to talk things over. Severus didn’t want you to be upset with him, but he knew you were just going through a lot of changes and couldn’t really control your emotions well.

“I assure you that I didn’t do those things on purpose,” He said, not even an ounce of irritation in his voice; “I’ll pick up after myself.”

His light and friendly tone made you realize that you had overreacted once again. Severus had not once lost his temper with you, no matter how bad you had nagged him. Your shoulders slumped and you looked at your feet that were close to being covered by your steadily growing bump.

You felt bad for being on his ass about something 24/7. He was trying his best to help you and make your pregnancy as comfortable as possible. You yelling at him all the time wasn’t fair to him.

“I’m sorry, Sev. It’s not you.” You uttered for the hundredth time in the last three months.

He only smiled and pressed a kiss to your forehead.

“Not to worry, my dear,” He mewled; “I can handle being screamed at for as long as it takes.”

__

The second trimester was actually easier than the first as far as symptoms goes. Your morning sickness had subsided, you had adapted to your ever changing hormones, and you weren’t tempted to eat everything in sight. While the symptoms were still there, they didn’t completely dictate your life.

You and Severus were well into the finer intricacies of planning for the arrival of your baby boy or girl. You were in the process of converting your extra bedroom into a nursery, which was a challenge for Severus. He was a shitty interior decorator, which wouldn’t be an issue if he hadn’t insisted that he decorate the baby’s room.

Severus wanted to be as involved as possible, never wanting you to think that he wasn’t there for you. You were ecstatic with the idea of him taking charge of the nursery, but you soon realized that wasn’t a good idea.

“We are not painting the baby’s room BLACK, Severus.” You protested, eyeing the cans of black paint on the floor.

Severus had gone out and bought all kinds of paint supplies. Paintbrushes, paint rollers, stencils, tape, etc. He was adamant about doing it all by hand (as opposed to using magic; a suggestion that he was horribly offended at), and had taken it upon himself to buy everything.

You had forgotten that there wasn’t much color interest in the world of Severus Snape.

“And why not? There’s black in other parts of the house.” He argued.

You put your hands on your hips, your back beginning to arch from the weight of your five month swelling belly.

“Yes, but this is a baby’s room. I don’t think he or she is going to like it,” You retorted back; “It’ll be too dark and...scary. I want Little One to be comfortable in here.”

Severus looked around. Perhaps, black was too extreme for such a small human. He looked a tad defeated and disappointed in himself. He was trying his hardest. You caught his dejected look.

“Oh, honey. I know you want it to be perfect,” You said, taking his face into your hands; “We can do it together. Maybe we can sneak a bit of black in here somewhere.”

He nodded.

“So, what color should we paint the room?” He asked.

You looked around this time, biting your lower lip in thought. You wanted to have gender neutral colors, and something that would be cozy for the baby.

“How about we paint the walls white? That way we can add pops of color wherever we see fit.” You said after a moment of thought.

Severus agreed, but was holding to your promise to have at least some black in the room. The nursery was an ongoing project, lasting about a week and a half. The crib was the last item placed in the room, and it was complete. You and Severus stood in the middle, basking in the finished nursery.

“It looks great, S.” You said, looking at the black painted changing table and the mobile above the crib.

“It does. I’m glad you helped me.” He admitted, eyeing the moving pictures on the walls.

You wrapped your arms around your husband’s waist, his lips falling to your head in response.

“We’re going to be one happy family.” You announced.

Severus laughed into your hair, his heart beating with hope.

“We already are.”

You had officially made it past the halfway mark, and your due date was quickly approaching. There was still so much to do, and not a lot of time to do it. Your bump was already huge, and you still had another trimester to go. You were getting to the point where swollen feet and an aching lower back was crippling your ability to go out and do much.

You were laid out on the sofa with Severus rubbing your tired feet. You were fighting the aching pain in your back and legs from the unevenly distributed weight from your midsection.

“I really need to go out today.” You winced as another round of soreness flooded your body.

Severus’ careful hands continued to massage the aching muscles of your feet.

“Why, love? You can surely go on a day where you’re feeling in higher spirits.” He said.

While he wasn’t totally wrong, you were at the point where every day was the same as the last. You had a feeling that you wouldn’t have a “higher spirits” day for a while.

“I suppose I could. But I need to get baby clothes, pacifiers, bottles.” You grunted, exhaling heavily.

You really needed to do this, but you just weren’t feeling up to it. Then you had an idea. Since Severus didn’t get to put all his effort into the nursery, you thought you could give him a second chance.

“Severus, could you possibly go out and buy baby stuff today?” You suddenly asked.

You were honestly expecting him to say no, considering he knew nothing about baby fashion. Instead, his face brightened and he leapt up from the couch.

“Of course! Why didn’t you just ask?” He queried, giddy with joy.

You laughed at his anticipation, giving him a few instructions.

“Alright, Sev. Don’t buy anything ridiculous or anything that’s made of uncomfortable material,” You said; “And do NOT get anything Slytherin related. As much as you would like it, we have no clue what Little One is going to be sorted into when he or she is old enough.”

Severus groaned.

“Not even a-”

“No Slytherin stuff.”

“Well, what about a-”

“No, Severus.”

He groaned again, but accepted your request. As badly as he wanted his daughter or son to be a Slytherin, there was always the chance that they wouldn’t be. He’d love them regardless of what House they were in, but it would tickle him to death if they were a Slytherin.

So Severus went out into Diagon Alley with extra pep in his step, jittery as he went from store to store getting stuff for his little girl or boy. Severus had never paid much attention to baby clothes, and now that he was looking, his heart was swelling with excitement.

There were so many cute sweaters, onesies, socks, and pajama sets that absolutely made Severus burst with joy. He would pick out about a dozen outfits to start out with, knowing that you’d have to go buy more once the baby was older. But each time he thought he had enough, he’d spot two or three more outfits that he just had to buy.

He could not WAIT to see his baby in all of this stuff. It had obviously been a while since he was a child, and he was amazed at all of the new things that had been invented to make parenting easier and childhood more fun.

He bought a pacifier for every day of the week, and enough toys that would last your kid through kindergarten. He bought blankets and stuffed animals and anything else that a baby MIGHT want. Your baby was going to be spoiled to the max.

Truth be told, Severus went a little overboard with his purchases. He came back with no less than ten bags full of baby materials. You not-so-gracefully lifted yourself from the couch when he entered, several bags hooked onto each of his arms. He had a proud smile plastered on his face.

“Oh Merlin, Severus! What all did you buy??” You questioned, eyes bugging out at all the goodies in front of you.

“Clothes, pacifiers, bottles. Everything you asked for.” Severus stated innocently, you rifled through the bags at all the baby wonders.

“And toys, blankets, and stuffed animals.” You finished his list.

You looked at Severus with an entertained smile, his cheeks glowing red.

“I just want Little One to be happy.” He shrugged meekly.

You let out a soft “awh” and captured his soft lips in a sweet kiss. He already loved this baby so much that it melted your heart.

“With you as their dad, they absolutely will be.”

__

You had never been happier to enter your third and final trimester. You were in the home stretch, and you were so excited to meet your baby. You were about to pop like a balloon and, quite frankly, you had enough of it. Don’t make any mistake about it, you had cherished every moment of being pregnant, but you were ready to get some somewhat decent sleep without being kicked in the ribs every 5 minutes.

Although, with a newborn around, you weren’t sure how much sleep you would get.

Over the course of your pregnancy, Severus had become more and more protective the more your baby grew. Now that your due date was only a few days out, he jumped at any sudden movement or noise. He had eyes and ears like a hawk. He came barreling into the living room, completely naked and dripping with water from where he had just stepped into the shower.

“Darling, what was that? Are you alright?” He asked frantically as if he had just heard an airstrike.

You looked up from your book, readjusting the pillow that was underneath your massive belly to support the weight.

“Severus. I sneezed.” You declared.

Relief washed over him, and he ran a hand through his damp hair.

“Oh. Do you need anything?” He asked you for the millionth time that evening.

You laughed shortly, nodding your head.

“Yes. I’m fine,” You said; “Please try to enjoy your shower.”

Severus had been on your tail nonstop for the last three weeks. Even though most pregnancies go the full 40 weeks, your doctor said that labor could be expected once you hit 36. Sev didn’t want you out of his sights in case you went into labor early. He didn’t want to miss anything.

You had begged him to break away just for a minute, for his sake and yours. He padded back to the shower, ignoring the way his heart was thumping in his chest. You went back to your book, grinning to yourself at your anxious husband.

Once Severus was showered and somewhat calmer, you had grown tired and were ready to get in bed. Growing and carrying a baby had really tanked your energy levels, but Severus didn’t mind going to bed early. As long as he knew you and the baby were safe, he was content.

He laughed out loud when you slid into bed wearing only a pair of panties and a t-shirt that you had used a spell to stretch out. It was the only sleepwear that fit you due to your risen belly.

Getting comfortable was next to impossible, but you had gotten used to it over the last few months. You didn’t mind, because you knew it’d be back to normal soon. Severus was eyeing your tummy, looking to you with expectation once you were settled.

“Go ahead, Sev.” You giggled, knowing what he wanted.

Every single night since you had been pregnant, Severus would rub your belly and tell the human growing inside of you goodnight. Severus shimmied down to where his face was in front of your bump. He lifted the shirt up to reveal your bare belly. He left a kiss on the stretched skin, carefully placing both of his hands on you.

“Hello in there,” Severus said, smiling proudly when he felt the baby move at the sound of his voice; “Are you still kicking your mother?”

You even nodded at that, thinking about all the times that the baby had soccer kicked your ribcage or hit your bladder just right. You placed one hand over one of Severus’, and put your other in his hair as he spoke.

“I’m so ready to meet you. I love you so much already. Other than Mum, I never thought I could ever love someone this much,” Severus spoke gently; “You two are my whole world.”

You rubbed his hair as you listened. Severus had been nothing short of amazing during this process. He was more than you could ever ask for. This baby was going to be loved endlessly.

“I don’t know how great of a father I’ll be. I didn’t exactly have ideal parents. I admit that I don’t have a model to go off of. But I will love you no matter what,” He spoke; “I hope you sleep well, Little One. I can’t wait to see you.”

He pressed another kiss to the side of your belly, before returning to your side. You were misty eyed at his words, turning so you were facing him.

“Oh, Severus. You’re going to be a wonderful dad. I’ve seen the way you love this child,” You assured; “Little One is going to love you. And there’s no one else I’d rather bring a baby into this world with.”

Severus still had a modest amount of nerves, but it was drowned out with joy. He was so ready for this baby.

“I love you.” He whispered.

“I love you, Sev.” You whispered back.

You leaned to kiss him, but just as your lips touched, you felt a contraction and a massive gush of fluid flushed out between your legs, soaking both of your lower halves. A startled gasp fell from your mouth, and Severus eyes grew about three times their normal size. You both knew what that meant.

Little One was about to make his/her entrance into the world.

__

Getting to the hospital from the time that labor began was a blind rush. Severus was positively panicked, which didn’t help your attempts to remain relaxed. He had spent 9 months preparing for this moment, and he was still caught off guard.

The hospital was busy, but you had a team of nurses and doctors ready to go. You were wheeled into a delivery room, your doctor checking to see how dilated you were. He let you know that you had one of the fastest dilations he had ever seen, because you were already at 10 centimeters. There was no time for an epidural or a spell.

It was time to push.

The nurses got your legs into delivery position, Severus taking your hand as the doctor and nurses guided you through it. You gave a hard push, screaming bloody murder and squeezing the circulation out of Severus’ hand.

“You’re doing great, my love. Keep pushing.” He praised you.

Your head fell back onto the pillow with gruff, heavy breaths. You were filled with a pain you couldn’t describe. You needed this baby out. The doctor gave you a second to rest, before instructing you to push again. You took a deep breath, every muscle in your body tensing up as you pushed. Severus scrunched his nose at how badly you were hurting his hand, but he didn’t dare say anything.

The baby’s head and shoulders were out, ear splitting cries echoing through the room. It was the most beautiful sound you had ever heard. Severus peeked between your legs, and you saw the way his face filled with pure love as he saw your baby for the first time.

“Oh, [Y/N]. Little One is gorgeous...” He breathed, wanting you to push again so you could be able to see; “Push again, darling. You’re almost there.”

The nurses and Severus were encouraging you as you pushed hard a few more times, your baby finally entering into the world. Severus was a little too squeamish to cut the cord, but he watched every single movement as the doctors and nurses cut the umbilical cord and got them cleaned up. You were breathing heavily, your entire body shaking from the strenuous action. You whimpered out to Severus, who had a better viewpoint than you did.

“Is the baby okay? Please tell me the baby’s okay...” You whined out, desperate to see him/her.

Severus was close to crying, but it was the happiest he had been in his entire life.

“The baby is perfect. You did so well, my love.” He said, kissing your sweaty forehead.

The chaos in the room died down, and one of the nurses had swaddled the crying baby. She gave a huge, kind smile and set the baby in your arms.

“Say hello to your baby girl.” She cooed.

Tears fell from your eyes as she was placed into your arms. Her cries dwindled out at the feeling and sound of your and Severus’ voices. She was the most stunning baby you had ever seen. Severus felt something awaken in him. A side of him that had been itching to come out.

“A girl...oh, a girl.” You cried happily.

Severus sniffed, holding back tears.

“She’s beautiful. She’s perfect.” Sev croaked.

He placed a kiss on her forehead, her small baby whimpers making his heart explode. The two of you sat in silence, raking over your baby’s perfection. After a minute, you looked up at Severus with a smile.

“I just thought of something we have to do.” You said.

Panic flashed over his face again. You had done everything he thought. What could there possible be to do?

“What is that, darling?” He acquired.

You giggled, kissing Severus’ cheek.

“We’ve got to pick a name for her.”

[mercy-burning]

Cold Feet

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader Summary: After receiving a letter from an old flame just days away from her wedding, Reader wonders if she should call it all off. —Inspired by the song Cold Feet by Tenille Arts Category: Angst (happy ending) Content Warnings: An almost kiss that isn’t with Reader’s fiancé, and blink and you’ll miss it implied smut Word Count: 1.7k

MASTERLIST | Alternate Version/Ending of Cold Feet

NOTE: When @meganskane announced her 700 follower celebration I just knew this idea would be the perfect way to implement one of the prompts she gave! The one I chose is “quit looking at me like that” ❤

Also! Fun fact: this song opens with “they’re all set to go on the 18th of June”, and that’s today, so it’s festive 😊)

***

She should be happily wrapped in a dream, Dying to kiss him and put on his ring. So why is she walking alone after midnight, Down a small town street, with cold feet?

Y/N is currently finding it difficult to breathe.

It was easier a couple days ago when she knew exactly what she wanted. Her husband-to-be was more than excited to marry her, and she'd reciprocated that feeling entirely. Everything was ready to go. Truthfully, they could have gotten married right this second if that's what they wanted, that's how ready to go they were.

But now? She was questioning everything.

She still feels the thin paper in her hands, even with its folded body currently tucked away in an old book she knew was never going to be opened again— a gift from the man who'd written the letter in the first place.

The first time she read it, her heart sank. And by the third time she'd read it, her heart soared.

And then her fiancée walked in, asked her about what to make for dinner, and her heart sank all over again.

Honestly, damn him for choosing now to finally confess. Damn him for making her question everything, after she'd finally moved on and found someone who would always be around.

But then again, she'd ended up choosing to live in a house in their hometown, just blocks away from that creek he'd mentioned in his letter. So... Maybe she hadn't moved on entirely

She hated that she even had to think about it.

She hated that her thoughts were so consumed with this man she hadn't seen in years when the man she was about to marry slept next to her every night, unaware of the start to her inner turmoil. Each night since then, she dreamt of dances with both of them, alternating between the two until they made her choose which of them she wanted to spend the rest of her life with. And every morning she'd wake with an even bigger tear in her heart than when the old flame had burned it alive and left her alone in the aftermath to piece it back together.

Her fiancée helped her do that, though. Day by day he taught her to love again, to trust in somebody again, and he was truly a good man.

So why was it absolutely destroying her, thinking of getting married to him when there was someone else in the picture to think about? Someone who'd had a hold on her for well over fifteen years?

Again, she hated that she even had to think about it.

But she wasn't about to get married with all these conflicting thoughts, so whether she wanted to or not, her only real option was the one that would also be the hardest on her tattered heart.

She'd sent him a text message this morning that read, Midnight, and tucked her phone away for the rest of the day, drowning herself in mindless work and looking to keep time moving forward.

Now, she struggles to breathe as she makes her way down to the creek.

It's cold, having just rained fifteen minutes prior, and she wraps her fiancée's cardigan tightly over her her arms, searching for warmth and comfort. She would have settled for one of her own, heavier pieces, but in some strange way she thought maybe having something there that belonged to her fiancée would ground her, something to remind her of the gravity of the situation at hand.

Nothing could have grounded her upon seeing her ex boyfriend after all these years, though, especially when she finally shows up to their old spot and sees him perched on the big stump right next to the water, relief and joy flooding through his features at the sight of her. His smile is just as bright and familiar as she remembered, and it just about knocks the wind out from under her feet.

"Hi, Y/N," he greets softly, standing up and stretching his hands out over his legs. It's obvious that he's nervous to meet up with her after all these years apart, and she couldn't blame him in the slightest.

She's just as nervous as her feet take baby steps towards him. Meanwhile she's hugging her fiancée's cardigan around her body tighter than before. "Hi..."

"I... I can't believe you actually wanted to meet. Truthfully I thought I wouldn't hear back from you."

"Well... Your letter kind of rattled me... You rattled me. I guess I just had to know..."

There's a long pause before he takes a small step towards her and tilts his head. His words are hesitant, like he thinks she might say something he doesn't want to hear. "And... What do you know?"

"I know that I love my fiancée. After you, I didn't really think I'd ever love anyone the same way again, but... He makes me happier than I've ever been, and I... I can't just discard that feeling because you decided too late that you still love me. You know?"

"I do, Y/N, I really do," he answers earnestly, and this time his hand reaches out to grab hers. "But... I mean, you showed up here, didn't you? That has to count for something..."

She isn't really sure how to respond after that. It's true that seeing this man in front of her for the first time in years has brought back a wave of feelings that she'd repressed and even experienced with someone new.

But it's also true that with those feelings comes an inevitable aftertaste of bitterness. He'd left her, decided ultimately that his career was more important to him, and now that she has someone new he's asking her to leave behind this peace she's found. And for what? For him? What's to stop him from leaving again, or deciding years or months down the road that he'd made a mistake and gotten her to leave her one shot at happiness after him?

Nonetheless, she sits with him for hours, listening to him explain... Giving him a chance.

He apologizes for the past, he promises to do better in the future, and in between he makes her laugh. Their hands brush, their breaths mingle as they huddle from the cold, and with every passing minute, the cardigan on her shoulders becomes looser and more forgotten.

Slowly but surely, he's lowering her defenses and gaining her trust. He's showing her bits and pieces of the man she fell in love with until they're laughing at close to 3am.

And then, for a moment, it's quiet. Absolutely quiet, save for the crickets and the soft rolling of the creek behind them.

Y/N almost lets him kiss her then.

But then her heart hammers in her chest, and not in a good way. Suddenly, she's imagining the pure heartbreak that would surely manifest on her fiancée's face if he found out- if she really decided to leave him for this old flame that had barely started to kindle once again years later.

She has to be absolutely certain of her decision.

So she pulls back and wraps her fiancée's cardigan tightly around her arms. "I should go home."

There's disappointment in his eyes, and it twists her gut a little. "Right... Um... I-I can take you back, if you want."

"No, I, uh... I think I'm gonna walk. I have to think."

Y/N avoids his gaze just quickly enough that she doesn't see the disappointment in his eyes fizzle into a tiny sliver of hope.

Rain on the sidewalk, doubt in her mind. One thing's for sure, she's running out of time To decide what's right, And who's heart she's willing to break.

She climbs into bed some time later, the cardigan still wrapped tightly around her body, and she can't quite bring herself to face the man sleeping next to her. It feels wrong, like somehow she's betrayed him by even thinking of spending the rest of her life with another person. She doesn't feel worthy of his love.

When she wakes up the next morning, she'd somehow ended up facing him anyway. He's staring at her with adoring eyes, and under his gaze she can't help the guilt that washes over her.

"Quit looking at me like that..."

Her words are grumbly and soft because of having just woken up, and because her face is half hidden behind blankets and his cardigan, her fiancée doesn't know anything is wrong.

Instead, he laughs. "What, you're beautiful... And before you start arguing with me, yes, you're even beautiful when you wake up."

She only grumbles, feeling anything but.

It's quiet for a moment or two before he speaks again. "You're wearing my cardigan..."

Peeking her eyes out from the mountain of fabric, she can see the enchantment in his eyes and it makes her warm. "I was cold..."

While true, she mostly means I had cold feet.

"Come here."

Two simple words, two syllables, and yet it's the softest declaration of love she's ever heard. Her body instinctively nestles into his, face going straight into the crook of his neck while he wraps her up in his arms.

"There," he says, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. "You feel warmer yet?"

"Mhm..." She sighs into his skin and then takes in a deep breath.

He smells like home.

He feels like home.

And as he starts softly humming her favorite song, rubbing soothing circles into her back as he holds her close, Y/N wonders why she'd ever doubted her love for him.

He is home.

James never was.

Y/N burrows herself further into Spencer's body and plants a gentle kiss to his neck, shivering slightly at the way his curly locks tickle her temple.

He stops humming and laughs. "What are you feeling for breakfast?"

"Hmmm... You." She articulates her point by selfishly kissing his neck, reminiscent of Cookie Monster.

Pretty soon, the two of them are laughing together, limbs tangling and breaths mingling, and then an hour and a half later they're in the kitchen, sipping on coffee.

As its warmth radiates through her throat and chest, Y/N studies him from across the room. He flips through pages of a book as he drinks his coffee, and for a brief moment, his eyes flick up to see her staring.

The action brings a smile to both their faces, and Y/N has never felt happier.

She's never felt more loved.

***

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[juletheghoul]

Oblivius Chapter 7

This is a CHONKY BOI. THE BACHELOR 'PARTY' IS HERE PEOPLE.

This is by far my longest chapter and I had most of it written before I even posted the second chapter of this story. Makes me SOOO happy how pumped all of you are to read this, it has taken over my life. Keep messaging! Keep sending me asks! 💖

Would love to do little drabbles, memories - anything to do with these two (except spoilers of course)

Likes & reblogs are appreciated

Frankie Morales x F!Reader

Pairing: Frankie x F!Reader

Word Count: 5.4K

Warnings: TW: INFIDELITY 👀 Angst, yearning, kissing, **18+ [no minors] SMUT** p in v (sex wrap it up) Oral, F & M receiving, language (Please let me know if I forget anything)

Masterlist Series Masterlist Prev Part Playlist

---------------------

Age 28:

“I just love her, I love her so much and there’s nothing I can do.” He was drunk and in a bad way.

“I know Fish, it’s tough from here but maybe when you get back you can talk to her.” He knew Pope was trying to make him feel better, but when he’d spoken to his mom earlier in the week and he’d heard that she was seeing someone- it had broken his heart.

He didn’t know what he’d been expecting - she’d never promised anything but he had this hope that she’d wait for him. That she’d be there to greet him with the love he’d always craved from her.

“She’s with someone else, I just want her to want me.” If he kept going down this road he was going to cry. He couldn’t cry here. Not in this bar and not when it was crawling with other soldiers.

“I think you should just talk to her when you get home, Fish - things might change when you see her again. Or do the grown up thing, and move on.” He looked at him, regret and heartbreak on his face.

“There’s no one like her.” He said it more to himself than Pope but he heard it all the same.

There was a pretty girl walking over to him now, a shy smile on her face.

“Hi - I’m Claudia - can I buy you a drink?” She wasn’t Spills, but she was very pretty.

-------------------

**Present Day**

The week leading up to the wedding was a blur. It simultaneously flew and crawled by. Schrodinger's week.

The dinner was coming up and with it a curious feeling was settling itself in your stomach. A strange mixture of desperation and acceptance. The acceptance told you that if Francis wanted to get married then you should keep your mouth shut and let him get on with his life.

The desperate, possessive part of you reminded you that he was your perfect match, that you shouldn’t let Claudia have him when he so obviously belonged to you. How would you accomplish that though? How could that be done without him hating you for ruining his wedding?

When you were sitting in the restaurant surrounded by the wedding party both those thoughts plagued you. They kept you quiet and pensive, present, but secluded within your own mind as they fought for dominance.

Benny sat next to you like always and you got the sense he was gearing up to make a move and you didn’t exactly know how to feel about it. Your mind was battling over that too.

Do I go out with him and try to get over Francis? Or do I turn him away, and keep pining over a soon to be married man? Choices.

Claudia was almost trembling with excitement, everything she said, everything she did was grating. It all irritated you and you felt the need to dampen her spirits. A malicious little part of you wanted to bring her down a peg. Maybe it was her attitude at the Bridal store. Maybe it was just plain old mean-spirited jealousy. With the dinner almost up, with the bachelor party still to come you couldn’t help it.

It was like a compulsion. The words crawled up your throat and the possessive, angry part of you had to spit them out.

“Oh my God Francis, remember our pact?” Your face was a mask of innocence - just reminiscing with an old friend.

Frankie’s expression changed then, from the same tentative joy he’d been wearing all night to something forced and fake.

“Barely.” His eyes were boring into you, the intensity seemed to be demanding you to shut up about it. While everyone else was still relaxed and unaware of the land mine you’d stepped on, you saw the look Pope was giving you, he knew.

“What pact?” Claudia asked with a breezy laugh.

“It’s silly really-” Frankie cut you off.

“It’s nothing, just bullshit we talked about when we were kids.” He tried to smooth it over with her but she didn’t like that. She sensed his hesitation and when Pope tried to engage them in conversation she challenged him.

“If it’s nothing, then Spills can tell me.” It was said with a bitter sweetness, she had seen through his avoidance and she wasn’t interested.

“Well, when we were in our early twenties - Francis and I decided to make a marriage pact.” You were smiling as though it was nothing and Claudia laughed along with you but you heard the edge in it. She wasn’t amused, and neither was Frankie.

“See honey? It was dumb. Just something dumb kids do when they don’t know any better.” He pulled her close but you could see the stiffness in the way she held herself. You didn’t expect his words to hurt you like that, and all of a sudden you regretted bringing it up.

What seemed like a good way to rile Frankie up was just a cruel little jab at a relationship that you didn’t belong in. A relationship that would go on despite you; in spite of you. You got quiet after that and you saw that he couldn’t bear to look at you.

The battle in your mind was over, and acceptance had won.

You quietly excused yourself to grab some fresh air, the shame at your ploy to ruin Claudia's night sat in your gut and you felt horrible. This wasn’t how you were raised, despite your feelings about her or Francis it was cruel to do this to her on the night before her wedding.

Fuck, now he’ll leave with her for sure. What have I done?

“Hey - thought I’d find you out here. You okay?” Benny had come out looking for you and you smiled at him.

“I’m okay - just needed a minute away you know?” He sat beside you and you tried to focus on him. On his handsome face, how tall he was. If you’d met him a few years ago you would have been all over him.

“Yeah I get that.” He scooted closer to you, until your legs touched and smiled at you. “Look, I know you’re close to Fish, but I’d really like to take you out.” He blurted out the words and you couldn’t help but let out a surprised oh!

He was smiling and he took your hand in his, he was looking at you intently now, making his move.

He was closing in and for a moment you forgot about your shame, about everything except Benny’s mouth. The kiss was soft, tentative. He was testing the waters with you and it was nice. His hand came up and rested on your face softly. Feather light touches on your cheek with the very tips of his fingers.

Objectively speaking, it was a lovely kiss, but it did nothing for you and he felt it.

“I’m sorry.” You rested your forehead on his and he sighed, the air moving the hair framing your face slightly.

“Don’t be, it was worth a shot.” he smiled sadly and you kissed him on the cheek. You both had your answer. The door slammed, breaking you out of your moment with Benny and you saw the back of Francis’ head as he stalked back inside.

----

He wanted to get drunk. He wanted to punch Benny, he wanted to knock his teeth out. He wanted to walk out there, grab Spills by the back of the head and kiss her until she finally understood what she meant to him.

When they walked in together his guts twisted up with rage, it clawed its way up his throat and instead of lashing out he ordered three shots of liquor to burn it away. He drank them quickly, one after the other.

“You and me, outside. Now.” Pope was dragging him away and he wanted to fight but Claudia was asking him what was wrong and he didn’t have an answer for her. Not one she’d want to hear so he let Pope drag him outside. He could see Spills staring at him and he couldn’t look at her.

“What the fuck are you doing right now?” Pope spoke calmly, but his voice had an edge.

“Drinking. It’s my bachelor party, I’m supposed to get drunk aren’t I?” He was pacing, the rage making him restless.

“Why are you marrying Claudia?” Pope stared at him.

“What are you talking about?” The question stopped him in his tracks.

“Do you think that no one can see it? It’s painfully obvious that you’re nowhere near as in love with her as you should be. You’re hung up on Spills and she’s obviously hung up on you.” He was trying to speak calmly and Frankie was pissed off all over again.

“It doesn’t fucking matter how I feel about her - she’s out here with Benny and I’m getting married tomorrow.” He was spiraling.

How the fuck did I get here?

“She’s out here with Benny, because you’re supposed to be getting married tomorrow. If you want to continue with Claudia I’m not going to get in your way, but get your fucking shit together and control your emotions. Figure out what the fuck you want and remember that Benny isn’t your enemy.” He approached him and clapped his arms onto Frankies shoulders. “Fish, you have to figure out what you want here, make it work with Claudia or let her go - stop this living in between shit. It’s not fair to anyone.” Frankie shook out of his grip, too upset to see reason.

He knew he was wrong, he knew he had no right to react this way but it was too much for him. All the little moments he’d thought they’d shared - what had they meant?

What does it matter? You’re getting married, she isn’t.

He ignored her gaze when he approached their table, Claudia was approaching him.

“You okay babe?” She was approaching him with open arms and he embraced her. Eyes closed - trying to feel something other than anger. He focused on the smell of her hair, on the feeling of being buried into the crook of her neck. She sighed loudly and ran her fingers through his hair, soothing and smoothing it out. “It’s just pre-wedding jitters babe, tomorrow everything will be perfect and we’ll be married.” She was whispering into his ear and it was meant to be reassuring.

He felt nothing.

You’re not her. No matter what you do, you’ll never be her and I have to be okay with that.

“I’m okay babe - see you tomorrow.” He kissed her, really kissed her. Tried to muster up whatever he thought he felt for her before and she responded but it was useless. All he felt was anger; she pulled away smiling and said her goodbyes. He glanced at Spills and the look on her face made him feel ashamed.

“Let’s get fucked up.” He said it with a fake smile plastered on his face and everyone except Pope and Spills cheered.

---

His hostility was astounding. He barely looked at you the whole night and you had a feeling it had to do with Benny’s kiss. You had to talk to him about it, a part of you hoped he’d be jealous and realize that you belonged together but maybe that was all in your head. Maybe he didn’t like his friends dating you, or you dating them but that didn’t make sense. Why would that bother him?

You’re the one getting married to someone else here, you dick.

Will and Benny were keeping up with him but as the night wore on everyone came to the realization that tomorrow would be a very long day if they didn’t quit now but Frankie wanted to keep the party going. He wasn’t belligerent, but he was being more aggressive than you’d ever seen. He told the boys that he wanted to continue drinking when they all got back to his house and they agreed but when you all got there it was obvious that Benny and Will were down for the count.

“I’m going to get these two into bed, can you make sure he’s okay and that he doesn’t get too fucked up?” Pope was herding the brothers into the basement where they’d been staying. He gave you a curious look then, a narrowing of the eyes that screamed talk to him.

---

When you walked into his old bedroom he was sitting on his bed, bottle of alcohol to his lips and you’d had enough.

“Francis that’s enough, you’ve had too much and you’re going to be sick.” You were trying to take the bottle away from him but he was stronger than you and he was in a foul mood.

“You don’t get to do that, you don’t get to pull that shit and then baby me.” His tone was vicious and you pulled back.

“I’m not trying to baby you, you asshole- I'm trying to make sure you’re not hungover for your wedding tomorrow.” He scoffed loudly at your words. “You got something to say Francisco?” You were angry now, his attitude was pissing you off big time. Your question set him off and he unloaded onto you.

“Oh I got plenty to say.” He put the bottle down and towered over you. “You fucked up Spills, you knew how I felt about you this whole fucking time and YOU were the one who shut it down. Making this stupid pact so you would be guaranteed someone who was crazy about you while you went off and did whatever and whoever you wanted and then bring it up in front of everyone like it was a joke.” The anger was burning away the alcohol in his system and there was nothing but raw honesty left. “And now what, you’re going to date my friend? So is it anyone who shows you attention except me?”

The expression on his face was angry, but there was a raw hurt in his voice. An old wound that he was blaming you for opening up.

“I have loved you since I was fucking fourteen, and you never gave a shit. You used me and you kept me dangling on a string but guess what, I am not a last resort. I have found a woman who loves me and you’re going to have to live with that.” The words were knives to your heart because for the most part they were true.

You couldn’t stop the tears at his onslaught of painful truths but underneath the hurt his words caused, you were fucking angry.

“You want to tear into me because I’ve been a fucking idiot fine, have at it, but you do not get to shame me for having a moment with someone who likes me. You’re getting married! Am I supposed to stay celibate and alone for the rest of my life because you gave up on me? I was waiting at the airport to tell you that I love you. That I know I’ve wasted time and that I want you.”

“Gave up on you? Are you fucking kidding me right now? So when I call to see how everyone is doing and I find out that you’re seeing someone - I'm supposed to just know that you’ll figure it out? I have been putting off finding someone in hopes that you’ll finally see how devoted I’ve always been to you. I am so fucking pissed off at you and you want to know what the worst part of it is? The fact that I still fucking love you. Even though I’m hurt and so goddamn angry. Even though I have her and I know she’s head over heels for me, you’re the one in my head. I still love you and seeing you like this is breaking my fucking heart Spills. It should be you I’m marrying tomorrow. It should have always been you.” You could see the tears in his eyes now and that hurt even more.

Every single fibre of your being screamed at you to run to him, to wrap your arms around him. Instead you responded with your own truth.

“I wish it was me tomorrow. I know I couldn’t expect you to wait for me forever but I don’t want anyone else. Benny is sweet but he’s not you Francis.” You were well and truly crying now. Everything you’d been holding in came bubbling up, spilling out of you and there was nothing you could do to stop it, it had to come out.

“I should have kissed you back like I wanted to. I shouldn’t have been afraid, I should have seen it and dealt with my own feelings for you. I’m sorry Francis. I’m sorry it took so long for me to realize how perfect we are for each other. I’m sorry I was too late and I’m terrified that you’ll leave me behind and marry her, and that I’ll be here waiting for you forever.” Your voice was cracking and high, barely a whisper at certain points with how hard you were crying.

His legs brought themselves to you in three long strides and then his mouth was on yours. Your tears mixing where your faces touched; pure adrenaline coursing through your veins when his hands buried themselves into your hair. It was nothing compared to the inexperienced albeit enthusiastic kiss you’d shared as teenagers. This was all-consuming. His mouth trapping your bottom lip roughly and biting softly to draw out a whimper. His tongue using the sound as the invitation to plunder the inside of your mouth.

He tasted like honey and alcohol, like the gum he chewed and tiramisu. He tasted like all the things you loved in this world and you never wanted him to stop kissing you.

He trailed his kisses down to the line of your jaw, the long column of your neck and up to the place beneath your ear and all you could do was frantically clutch at his hair.

“We’ve been so stupid Spills, driving me crazy.” He was whispering the words into your neck, his hands a vice grip around your waist.

“I’m sorry Francis, I love you - I love you so much.” The both of you couldn’t get the words out fast enough, fervent breathes as you kissed; both trying to make up for lost time. His wedding in a few hours was forgotten, his fiancé didn’t exist. It was just the two of you in his old bedroom where his first kiss had been denied.

You were rewriting that now.

His hands lowered and grabbed at the flesh of your ass roughly and you moaned into his mouth. He brought his kisses to your neck as he decisively pulled your dress up.

“I’ve been wanting to fuck you for half my life Spills, it was you I thought about while I was away. I would fuck my fist every single fucking night thinking about you letting me taste your pussy.” His eyes were dark with want and you gasped at his words, the alcohol and the honesty making him braver; the words were shooting directly into your cunt, making you weep for him.

“It’s always been you, look at what you do to me, what you’ve always fucking done to me.” He grabbed at your hand roughly and pressed into the sizeable bulge at his crotch. It was hard to form words. It was hard to articulate how you felt now that this was finally happening.

“Will you let me baby? Will you let me bury my tongue in your cunt? I want you to cum all over my face.” He was rubbing at your clit through your panties and it was like you were suspended in amber. Dumbstruck at his words, his confidence - his need for you.

“Yes Francisco, please.” You were gripping his hair frantically as he pushed you onto his bed. His big strong hands pulling your underwear down and tossing it over his shoulder. The same hands pulling your thighs apart to find your slick seeping out of you, all glossy and wet. He moaned at the sight.

“Look at that- so fucking pretty for me.” He made himself comfortable between your legs, grinding into the mattress as he studied your body. He kissed your thighs as he brought his face closer and closer to your clenching core. His facial hair tickling you as he trailed them up up up. You watched him propped up on your elbows, your hands automatically reaching out to run through his hair.

“Bet you taste so fucking good, like peaches.” He ran his finger along your seam, smearing your slick all over your lower lips. He was going too slow. You tried to move your cunt closer to his face but he smiled almost cruelly and held your hips down.

“My greedy girl.” He spread your lips apart and spit into your clit, you felt it sliding down towards your opening but he dove in cat-quick to lap it up before it went further.

His tongue was heaven. You threw your head back as he licked from your opening up towards your clit, over and over. “Eyes on me, I want you to watch me.” It was too much and you whimpered as he let the saliva drip from his mouth and into your clit. Focusing his tongue there, moving it up and down over and over and over. The wet glide of it too much and the string holding your sanity together was too tight, it would surely snap and let you float away soon.

He groaned onto your skin, his eyes steady on you as he slid two thick fingers inside you. Curling them in a way that had you tensing up. He could feel your thighs clenching as he scissored them inside you, stretching you open while his tongue pushed you over the edge. It was too much and when he wrapped his lips around your clit and gave it a long steady suck, you shattered.

He held you down and licked you through it. Lapping up the waves of arousal, drinking you down deep while his fingers pistoned in and out of you with a wet squelch.

You had to push him away.

“You taste so good honey, I wanna eat you for days, until you’re a wet little puddle in my bed.” He crawled up towards your limp body and kissed you roughly, his facial hair irritating your skin but it didn’t matter. Not when you could taste yourself in his mouth, not when he’d made you cum harder than anyone had any right to.

His hands were a blur as he tried to get his jeans down and you helped him. You could see your slick on his fingers, then his jeans and your hip where he held onto you. A little trail of you wherever he touched.

You frantically pulled both his jeans and his boxers down, his cock freed and bobbing between your thighs. You could see the sticky tip of him, angry and red with how hard he was and your mouth watered. You had to taste.

He was surprised when you flipped him over, the startled look on his face quickly replaced with a hungry smile. You took off his jeans and his boxes fully to lay between his legs. You rested your head on the strong muscle of his thigh as you lazily stroked him, the velvety skin of his cock encasing the iron beneath. He watched you with a look of rapture and his breath hitched when you pulled away to scoop some of your own slick from between your legs to make your strokes more fluid.

“You can’t possibly know how many times I’ve imagined this - fuck - give me your mouth baby, please.” He was thrusting up into your hand. You licked a wide stripe from the base of his dick up to the tip, circling it with your tongue. He groaned at the sight of you and he grabbed at the hair at the base of your skull to guide your movements.

You took the tip into your mouth and hollowed your cheeks prettily while he watched you, taking a bit more each time you lowered your head. You were ravenous for him, the soft sounds he was making, the control you had at this moment was intoxicating and it pushed you to take him further.

You took him as far as you could, swallowing around him as your nose brushed up against his curls and the tears leaked out when you let go to take a breath.

“Holy fuck baby, yes - look so fucking hot with my dick in your throat. Let me see you do it again.” He guided you down and you held there as long as you could before you sputtered and coughed, spit and his precum connecting your mouth to his cock.

“Fuck baby - so fucking good, if you do it again I’ll cum…” he left it up to you, taking his hand away from your hair and as tempted as you were to watch him come apart in your mouth your cunt was achingly empty and you needed him inside you.

“Next time you can cum in my mouth or on my face, wherever you want, right now I need you to fuck me.” You crawled up and he kissed you, he was frantic and he licked the spit off your lips and it was so primal you moaned. You found yourself on your back again and he was holding your thighs open while he rubbed his length through your folds.

“I’m going to cum inside you. I’m going to pump you full of me, fuck it into you. I wanna see it dripping out of you when I’m done.” He was lining himself up and when he slid in all the way, everything was right in the world. This was how it was supposed to be, the thick stretch of him was perfect, you were so fucking full - your cunt, your heart - every part of you.

“God baby, you’re so tight and wet - feels so fucking good.” He was speaking into your mouth and all you could do was wrap your arms and legs around him. Incoherent whimpers and sounds spilling out of your mouth with his movements. Sweat was beading on his brow, his fingers traced your hairline almost tenderly. His movements are equal parts filthy and loving.

His thrusts were hard and fast, not being able to control himself. You heard the wet, obscene sound of them and it made you wetter. You raised your legs higher, bracketing his ribs while he snapped his hips.

“I’ve wanted this for so long, love you - let me love you.” His words were curt and he wasn’t going to last long so you yanked the straps of your dress down. He leaned onto one arm, reaching down to rub perfect circles onto your clit while he took your nipple into his mouth. Your orgasm crashed into you out of nowhere and he groaned when he felt you clenching.

He brought his hand back up to grab at your hip roughly for more leverage while he fucked into you two, three - four more times before he was spilling into you.

He made good on his promise. He fucked his cum into you. A couple more shallow thrusts even though he was too sensitive and he watched himself do it.

“Look so fucking pretty like that, all puffy and full of my cum.” He watched as it slid out of you and down your ass onto the bedding.

Is this what I’ve been missing out on? Francisco Morales; sex god.

You were too blissed out to move but he went to work, taking off the rest of his clothes and then stripping you of yours. It was difficult to articulate how you felt in that moment, on the one hand this was everything you had wanted. The sex had been amazing, he didn’t just fill your body - he filled every single ounce of you. Your heart swelled when he tucked you into his side and covered the two of you with his blanket.

On the other hand, the postcoital bliss was wearing off and the implications of what had transpired was a weight growing in the pit of your stomach.

Your body and heart wanted to soar; a kite flying higher and higher. Your conscience was the string, and it was being shortened fast. He loved you, he still loved you even though he was engaged and he’d been thinking of you the whole time. You wanted to cry with happiness; with guilt as well.

The guilt was present, reminding you consistently that this man was supposed to be getting a good night’s rest for his wedding tomorrow. Instead the two of you were laying in bed, curled around each other. His spend slowly seeping out of you.

It was hard to focus on it though, especially when his skin was so warm under your cheek. When his hand rubbed at your arm and your legs were a tangle underneath the blanket. You couldn’t help but reach up and run your fingers through the hair matted on his forehead and he made it even harder when he captured the same hand and pressed kisses to your fingers. He broke the silence before you could though.

“I’m still pissed off at you.” He had a dreamy look on his face despite his words.

“I know. I’m pissed off at me too.” You buried your face into the crook of his neck, breathing him in. The scent of his body-wash mixing with his own sweat. You couldn’t get enough and he curled himself into you as you ran your fingers through his hair. Your hands are constantly moving, touching every bit of each other you could.

“We’ve wasted so much fucking time Spills.” There was a deep sadness in his voice, it sliced into you because you knew he was right.

“I know Francis, I’m sorry it took me so long.” You were scratching at the wiry hairs on his cheek, trying to map out the face you loved so much. He sighed loudly. “What's going to happen tomorrow?”

“I don’t know - part of me thinks I should pack up the truck, throw you in the back and drive away. Another part of me wants to forget this whole thing happened and follow through on the commitment I made.” He wasn’t holding back with his words or feelings and although they hurt you couldn’t force him to do anything he didn’t want to do. You kept quiet, at the end of the day the decision was his. “I have to tell her the truth. I have to tell her that we did this, I cannot show up there tomorrow and pretend like I didn’t.”

You could see the guilt on his face now, the implications dawning on him a little later than they had for you. He scrubbed at his face with his hand and groaned.

“How can I just break her heart like this?” He was spiralling. “She doesn’t deserve this.” You felt like an intruder then, suddenly the closeness wasn’t there, he was pulling away from you emotionally if not yet physically.

“What do you want to do Francisco?” The use of his full name snapped him out of his train of thought and he looked at you then.

“What do you mean?” He looked at you in confusion, as you pulled away from him reluctantly.

“I know it took me way too long to get to this point, and you have every fucking right to hate me. If you tell me now that you want to make it work with her I’ll support your decision. I’ll keep my mouth shut and we can pretend this never happened. I would do that for you because I love you, and I will no matter what. You tell me what you want to do.” The tears were coming down your face as you said the words and as much as it hurt to get them out you meant them.

You couldn’t stay here - you wanted him to make his choice without influence and he said nothing as you quickly dressed and walked out of his room, instead you lay on the couch in the living room, crying softly to yourself. Sleep was nowhere in sight and in a few hours, you’d know for sure what would happen.

----

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