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throttleheart · 3 days ago

Text

⸻ ⸻ ⸻

Hiding

Pairing: Lando Norris x fem!Reader

Genre: angst with a happy ending

Word Count: ~9.2k

Summary: You & Lando have a big fight before a race. He crashes and you are left to figure out how can your relationship survive.

Masterlist

⸻

It started the night before the race.

Saturday. A day that should’ve ended in celebration. Or, at the very least, quiet comfort.

Lando had been on for pole.

Until the final corner of Q3 — just a slip of concentration, a tire off into the gravel. He lost the lap. Lost pole. Lost the mood.

Max locked in P1. Russell snagged second. Oscar, somehow, took third.

And Lando?

Fourth.

He hadn’t spoken much after quali. Just mumbled through the media pen, kept his head down in the garage. He didn’t even glance your way when you passed him his water bottle at the motorhome. The frustration hung over him like heat off tarmac.

So you tried to do what you always did.

Be the soft place.

Back at his apartment, you made dinner — roasted chicken with lemon and garlic, rosemary potatoes, grilled vegetables just how he liked them. You even pulled out those little candlesticks from the drawer. Set the table. Cleaned the counter. Let music play low in the background. Tried to make it feel like home. Like peace.

He walked in late, nearly eight-thirty, still in his team hoodie, hair flattened from his cap. He dropped his keys and bag by the door without a word.

You turned from the kitchen.

“Hey,” you offered gently. “Dinner’s ready.”

He barely looked at you. Walked straight to the fridge. Cracked open a bottle of water like you hadn’t spoken.

“I made your favorite,” you added.

He took a long drink, eyes on the fridge door. “I’m not hungry.”

Your heart sank a little. “You haven’t eaten since before quali.”

“I said I’m not hungry.”

There wasn’t anger in his voice. Just that flat, thin-edged coldness that cut sharper than a shout.

You tried again anyway. “I just thought you might want to sit. Unwind. Talk.”

That made him turn. Slowly. His jaw clenched.

“Talk?” he echoed. “About what? About how I fucked it today? About how Oscar outqualified me again?”

You blinked. “No, Lando. About anything. Or nothing. I just wanted to have a moment with you.”

He shook his head. “Why is that never enough for you? Why do I always come home to this pressure to perform for you too?”

The words hit like gravel under tires. Messy. Unexpected. Painful.

Your throat tightened. “I’m not asking you to perform. I just… I miss you. I tried to make tonight easier. Nicer.”

“Well, don’t,” he snapped. “Don’t try to fix everything all the time. It just makes me feel worse.”

You stood there, still holding the serving spoon. “I made dinner because I love you. Because I knew you’d be hurting.”

He scoffed and looked away. “Yeah, well. Love shouldn’t feel this heavy all the time.”

You opened your mouth to respond — then closed it.

He didn’t mean it. Not really. But he said it. And worse, he didn’t take it back.

He rubbed his eyes, tired and fraying at the seams. “I need to sleep. Big day tomorrow.”

Then he walked into the bedroom.

The door didn’t slam.

He just… shut it behind him.

And left you standing there, in the kitchen of his apartment, the dinner table glowing with candles no one would sit at.

⸻

You didn’t move for a while. You just stood there, eyes locked on the plates.

Steam still curled from the food.

Music still played softly in the background — a slow song, too delicate for this kind of ache.

Eventually, your body moved on autopilot. Blew out the candles. Covered the chicken. Put the potatoes in the fridge. Cleaned the knife you used to chop garlic. Wiped down the counter.

You only realized you’d left your car keys on the hallway table after you’d already put on your shoes and slipped into your jacket.

You stared at the table.

At the dark hallway that led to the closed bedroom door.

Your keys were just ten feet away. But he was behind that door — silent. Asleep, maybe. Or pretending to be. You weren’t sure which would hurt more.

You couldn’t go back in there.

So you left them.

And you walked.

⸻

The night air clung to your skin. Summer fading into fall — crisp enough to sting.

The streets were mostly empty, aside from the hum of far-off traffic and a couple walking their dog on the opposite sidewalk. You walked fast, arms wrapped around your ribs, every step sharp and brittle.

You told yourself not to cry.

You told yourself you were being dramatic. Sensitive.

You told yourself he was just tired. Stressed. Frustrated.

But none of those excuses softened the ache in your chest or stopped the sting in your eyes.

The tears didn’t come in sobs. They came slowly. Silently.

Hot streaks down your cheeks that chilled in the wind.

You sniffed once. Bit the inside of your cheek to keep your lip from trembling. Kept walking.

Block after block.

You passed a bus stop. A florist shop with its shutters down. A traffic light blinking yellow into the night.

And still the tears came.

Because you hadn’t asked for much. Just dinner. Just time. Just to be seen.

But he didn’t even notice when you walked out the door.

Didn’t text. Didn’t call.

And maybe that hurt more than the words he’d said.

Maybe that silence was the answer.

⸻

The walk felt longer than it should have.

Maybe because your feet ached in the shoes you’d rushed to pull on. Maybe because every time you thought you were almost there, another corner waited. Another stretch of street. Another minute in the dark.

Or maybe it was just the weight of what you were carrying. The quiet grief of it all.

Your hands were cold, fists buried in your coat pockets, keys to your own place slipping between your fingers with every step. The silence had turned into noise — your own breathing, the shuffle of your shoes, the occasional car in the distance. It all seemed louder than usual. Harsher.

You crossed the last big intersection. The red signal blinked on the pedestrian sign, but you didn’t stop. You didn’t care.

It wasn’t until your building came into view — familiar, a little run-down, but safe — that the trembling really started. A deep, sinking thing in your chest.

You sniffed again and wiped your cheek with the back of your hand.

Still wet.

Still crying.

You hadn’t stopped.

The keypad stuck for a second when you typed in your entry code. Your fingers fumbled. You let out a quiet, strangled sound of frustration — the first noise you’d made since the door closed behind you back at his apartment.

When it finally clicked open, you pushed into the stairwell.

It smelled like dust and someone’s burnt microwave popcorn. It always did.

The climb up to your floor felt like dragging yourself uphill through mud. Your legs were sore. From walking. From standing too long in his kitchen trying to make the night perfect. From holding yourself together.

You fished for your apartment keys, hands still shaking a little. Your breath fogged the hallway air. You didn’t bother wiping your cheeks anymore.

By the time the door swung open, you felt like a ghost. Not even angry anymore — just hollow.

The apartment was dark, quiet, still. You didn’t turn on the overhead lights, just the small lamp on the side table. Its warm yellow glow lit the living room in soft, sleepy gold.

You toed off your shoes, nearly tripping. Shrugged out of your coat and let it fall to the floor.

Everything inside you wanted to scream. Or crawl under a blanket. Or get in the shower and let the water burn until you felt something else.

But instead, you sat.

On the edge of your bed. In your clothes. In the quiet.

You stared at your hands in your lap.

Your palms still smelled faintly like garlic and rosemary. From the dinner he didn’t touch.

You closed your eyes.

And the tears came again — slow, steady, like the rain that hadn’t started falling yet but probably would. You didn’t sob. You didn’t shake. Just let them roll down your cheeks, soaking the collar of your shirt.

You’d tried so hard. To show up for him. To carry the weight when he couldn’t. To make the night soft when the world was sharp.

But he’d shut you out like it didn’t matter.

Like you didn’t matter.

And worst of all — you didn’t even slam the door when you left.

⸻

The bedroom door didn’t slam.

It clicked shut—soft, careful, like a secret.

But it still echoed like a gunshot in Lando’s ears.

He stood frozen just inside the threshold, back against the wood, jaw tight. The room was dark, moonlight painting long lines across the sheets. He didn’t sit down. Couldn’t.

His fists uncurled slowly. There was nothing to fight but himself now.

He felt like he’d been spinning all day. From the moment he hit the gravel in Q3, everything had spiraled. P1 was right there—his—until it wasn’t. George P2. Oscar P3. Max on pole, of course. And him? Fourth. Again.

The margin for error in the championship was razor-thin now. He knew what the press would say. What his critics would whisper.

Too inconsistent. Too emotional. Not a closer.

And maybe—maybe they were right.

He exhaled harshly and leaned forward, dragging his palms over his face. He hadn’t even touched the food she made. He could still smell it—rosemary, butter, garlic. Her attempt at making the evening better. Easier.

She’d tried to make things nice.

He remembered the way she looked when he walked in earlier—eyes soft, trying to be calm, to hold space for him even when he wasn’t making any for her.

“Will you have time after the race tomorrow?” she had asked him gently. “Just… a night? Just us?”

And that should’ve been a lifeline.

But instead, he snapped it in half.

“Maybe if you weren’t so damn needy all the time, I’d actually have the energy to come home wanting to see you.”

He felt sick now. The words echoed louder than any engine ever had.

She hadn’t fought back. She hadn’t cried in front of him. Just went quiet. Something behind her eyes shuttered. And then she started cleaning.

That should’ve told him everything.

But he hadn’t followed her. He’d just walked into the bedroom like a coward, like someone who didn’t deserve her. He told himself she’d cool off. Sit on the couch. Maybe throw on some movie she wasn’t watching. He’d apologize in twenty minutes. Or thirty. Or after his shower.

But the silence stretched on. Thicker. Heavier.

And eventually, guilt forced him up.

He cracked the door open quietly.

“Y/N?” His voice barely carried. He stepped into the hallway. “Love?”

Nothing.

The apartment was dim, only the kitchen light left on—warm, flickering, lonely.

He turned the corner and saw the table had been cleared. Plates washed, counters wiped. The napkins she’d folded for dinner had been neatly stacked again. The wine glasses rinsed, drying on the rack.

The food was untouched.

The effort she’d made—wiped away like it hadn’t mattered.

His chest went tight.

He glanced toward the couch. Empty. No pillows out of place. Her coat no longer hanging on the hook. Her bag gone.

Then his eyes flicked to the key bowl by the front door.

Her keys. Still there.

His heart stopped.

She walked.

She left on foot.

No coat thick enough for this cold turn in the weather. No shoes that could carry her far—she was wearing those soft flats, the ones she always said hurt if she walked more than a block.

And she left anyway.

He whipped out his phone, hands fumbling, breath catching.

He’d written a message already—I’m sorry. You were right. I was cruel. Please come back.—but hadn’t sent it.

He pressed send now. Waited.

The bubble stayed gray.

Not Delivered.

No signal. Or no phone.

He tried calling. Voicemail.

She’d turned it off.

She never turned it off.

His throat tightened as he sank down by the door, staring at her keys like they might vanish. Her charger was still by the couch. Her favorite hoodie—the one she always threw on after dinner—still draped over the back of the chair.

She didn’t even take the things that made her feel safe.

Just walked out.

Into the night.

He imagined her shoulders hunched against the wind, clutching her thin coat closed with both hands, hair whipping across her face, her shoes scuffing against the pavement. Quiet tears running down her cheeks—not the loud, cathartic kind. The quiet ones. The kind she let fall without wiping them away. The kind that hurt worse.

And she didn’t turn back.

She didn’t even wait for him to come out and fix it.

Because he didn’t.

He could’ve caught her if he hadn’t waited. Could’ve chased after her. But instead, he sat in the dark, too ashamed to move, and now she was out there—cold, alone, hurt.

Because of him.

Because he couldn’t hold space for the one person who always held it for him.

He rested his head back against the wall, staring up at the ceiling like maybe the answer was written there.

His voice cracked in the quiet.

“Please come back.”

⸻

Sunday Morning

You wake up with the kind of stiffness that doesn’t come from a bad night’s sleep — it comes from crying too long in one position, from curling in on yourself like a shield and staying that way because it hurt too much to move.

The couch cushion beneath you is warm, the blanket you grabbed at some point halfway through the night barely covering your legs. The thin cotton of your t-shirt clings to your skin, cold and wrinkled, and your limbs feel too heavy to lift all at once.

For a second, you don’t move.

You just listen.

The morning traffic outside. The soft creak of your apartment settling. The dull ache behind your eyes.

You sit up slowly, your neck protesting the movement. One hand drags across your face automatically, fingers catching on dried tears you didn’t even realize had fallen after you’d finally drifted off.

And then it hits you again — not in a sharp, jarring way, but like a bruise you forgot was there until something pressed against it.

The fight.

The look on his face.

The way he disappeared into the bedroom and didn’t come back out.

The dinner you made.

The plate you cleared.

The keys you forgot.

The cold, late-summer night air seeping into your too-thin coat.

The walk home, shoes biting into your heels, silence pressing on your chest like a weight.

You reach for your phone, lying face-down on the coffee table.

Still off.

You hesitate before turning it on. Part of you doesn’t want to know. Doesn’t want to see if he even noticed. If he cared.

The screen lights up.

A few missed calls. Two messages. One of them timestamped after 3 a.m.

Please just let me know you’re home safe. Please.

The lump in your throat returns instantly.

You press your lips together, hard. Staring at the screen like it might say something else if you look long enough. But it doesn’t. It just sits there, glowing faintly in your hand.

He noticed.

But not until after you were already gone. After your shoes were soaked from the pavement and your hands were numb and your tears had dried halfway down your cheeks. Not until you were already curled up here, in the quiet dark, trying to convince yourself you hadn’t made a mistake by walking out.

You stand slowly, barefoot on the hardwood, legs stiff and aching.

Your shoes are still sitting by the door, kicked off in a pile. The thin coat you wore is draped over a chair — not warm enough, not meant for the bite in the air that comes when summer starts giving way to fall.

You make it to the kitchen and stare at the coffee maker for a long moment, then decide it’s not worth it. Everything feels off. Like your apartment has too much space this morning. Like even your own breath echoes.

You wonder where he is now. If he slept. If he’s at the track already.

It’s race day.

And you’re not there.

He’s probably surrounded by noise and people and pressure. He’s probably putting on that same press smile he always wears — the one that doesn’t quite reach his eyes when something’s wrong.

You wonder if he’ll think about you when he walks to the grid. If he’ll remember your hand in his when you usually wish him luck. The way you always say, “Drive smart,” instead of “Drive fast,” because he already knows how to be fast.

You sit on the edge of the kitchen chair and let your head drop into your hands.

Because you don’t want to be angry anymore. You just want to feel like you matter to him the way he matters to you.

And right now, you’re not sure.

Not after last night.

⸻

You sit there for a long while, the quiet thick around you. Your phone buzzes again — a message from Lando. You don’t open it.

Instead, you glance toward the window, where the sky is a soft, pale gray. Late summer clouds drifting lazily, hinting at the crispness of fall yet to come. You pull your knees up to your chest and rest your head against them.

You feel like you’re split in two.

Half of you wants to throw on your shoes, drive to the track, and be there for him. To fix this — to remind him, and yourself, that what you have is bigger than a bad day or a heated fight.

The other half just wants to crawl back under the covers and hide from everything, from the tension, from the pressure, from the gnawing feeling that maybe you don’t belong in his world after all.

Your phone buzzes again. Another call.

You finally open the messages.

“I’m sorry. I was wrong. Please talk to me when you’re ready.”

Your heart stutters. You want to believe him. You want to text back, to say it’s okay, that you forgive him, that you want him to win today — for both of you.

But the silence feels too heavy. The hurt too fresh.

You take a deep breath and stand. Your bare feet meet the cold floor, and you shiver, realizing just how thin your coat was last night. You wrap your arms around yourself.

You know what you have to do.

You grab your coat, slip on your shoes — the same ones that hurt your feet on the walk home — and head for the door.

You need to see him.

Not just because of the race.

But because after last night, you both need a reminder that even when things get messy, you’re still there for each other.

And sometimes, that’s the hardest thing to say out loud.

⸻

You grab your coat, slip on your shoes — the same ones that rubbed raw against your heels the night before — and head for the door.

But you don’t open it.

Your fingers hover above the knob, and something in your chest folds in on itself. Not anger. Not even heartbreak.

Just… tiredness. The kind that settles into your bones when you’ve been trying too hard for too long.

You press your forehead gently against the door.

Because isn’t that what it’s always been?

You, rushing to forgive. You, swallowing the sting of words he didn’t mean but said anyway. You, stitching up the torn fabric of something he keeps pulling at.

You’ve stood in the paddock before with your heart quietly breaking. Smiled at cameras. Held his hand after podiums he didn’t think were good enough. Stayed quiet when his world demanded more of him than it ever asked from you.

But today — today you don’t want to go.

Not because you don’t care. God, if only it were that easy. If only indifference could replace the ache in your chest.

You care so much it hurts. That’s the problem.

You slowly peel the coat off your shoulders and hang it back on the hook. Kick off your shoes. Pad back into the living room on sore, quiet feet.

The morning light filters in, cool and colorless. You curl into the couch with a blanket wrapped around you like armor.

The TV remote feels heavier than it should.

But your hands know what to do — muscle memory from a hundred race days before this one. You find the broadcast, volume low. Familiar voices. Tire strategies. Grid positions.

P4. He’s starting P4.

You bite the inside of your cheek.

You should be there. Should’ve kissed his cheek before he pulled on his helmet. Should’ve smiled, told him “You’ve got this,” even if part of you wasn’t sure he did.

But you’re not.

And that silence is its own kind of message.

You don’t watch the pre-race interviews. You don’t want to see the way his eyes flick around, searching the crowd. You already know he’ll look for you.

You hope it stings a little.

Not out of spite — never that. But maybe a small part of you hopes that this time, he feels what it’s like to reach and find nothing waiting for him.

The race lights go out.

You pull the blanket tighter around yourself and whisper something he’ll never hear:

“Good luck.”

And then, you watch.

Alone.

⸻

The helmet feels tighter today.

Not physically — he knows it’s the same fit, same setup, same everything — but it presses down harder, like it’s holding more than just his head now. Like it’s holding in everything he hasn’t said, hasn’t let himself feel.

He blinks hard as he watches the crew swarm around his car. Everyone’s moving with sharp, practiced purpose, voices crackling through radios, tyres being warmed, wing angles being checked. He should be doing the same — syncing up mentally, running scenarios through his head.

Instead, it all just blurs.

His eyes keep sliding back to the edge of the garage, toward the place she usually stood. Arms folded. Soft smile. Quiet presence.

She’s not there.

His throat closes up for half a second. He shakes it off, flexes his fingers inside the gloves, breathes through it. He’s done this race-day ritual a hundred times. He can do it again. With or without her.

But his mind’s splintered.

P4 is doable. He’s overtaken from worse. But it doesn’t feel doable today. Not with the static in his head. Not with the echo of last night playing on loop — her voice, that silence that followed it, the way she didn’t look back when she left.

The engineer taps his shoulder. Strategy brief.

Lando nods, but the words don’t land.

They bounce off him like radio signals with no receiver.

He’s nodding at all the right moments. He knows that. He knows how to fake it. But inside he’s somewhere else. Still standing at the kitchen doorway. Still watching her back as she walked out.

Still wondering why the hell he didn’t go after her.

The pit lane starts buzzing louder now — engines coming alive. The grid forming. He steps out, suit zipped up, helmet under his arm, and everything outside his body clicks into motion. But inside? It’s just noise.

He straps in.

The car tightens around him.

Radio check. Tyre temps. Formation lap countdown.

He hears all of it — but feels none of it.

Because all he can think is:

She’s not here.

She’s always here.

And now she’s not.

And somehow, that’s what makes it feel like he’s already lost something today — and the lights haven’t even gone out yet.

⸻

The engine hum vibrated through his chest like a second heartbeat as he pulled into P4 on the grid.

Max on pole. George just ahead. Oscar to his right.

He kept his visor down longer than usual on the formation lap, trying to drown out everything but the car — the steering weight, the balance through corners, the cold bite of tyre temperature. But it wasn’t just the car he was fighting.

It was the static in his head.

The words he couldn’t unsay. The cold echo of a slammed door — not hers, but his, walking away from someone who needed him to stay.

You hadn’t answered this morning. Not his calls. Not his texts.

He told himself it didn’t matter — not now. But his gut burned hotter than the engine map he switched to just before lights out.

Lights out.

He got George off the line. Took the inside on Turn 2, swept into P3 clean. Then P2 by Lap 19 when Max ran wide. It should’ve felt good.

It didn’t.

Every corner was a loop of white noise and focus sharp enough to cut. The team radio crackled, relaying Oscar’s times — “Gap to Piastri, 2.1 seconds. Good pace. Let’s go get him.”

By Lap 47, the adrenaline was fire in his chest.

He was gaining.

Oscar ahead, less than a second. DRS open. Lando’s hands were steady on the wheel, jaw tight.

One move. One chance.

And then—

Oversteer.

Rear snapped wide. Correction too fast. Tyres locked. Car drifting. Gravel screaming beneath him.

Impact.

The barrier slammed back. A sickening crunch, the kind that vibrated up through his spine and stayed lodged in his throat.

His race was over.

And all he could think — before the radio even crackled to life — was that she wasn’t there.

⸻

The commentary was a blur in your ears — familiar voices you used to find comfort in, now muffled by the pounding of your heart.

You’d been watching the whole time.

Curled on the end of the sofa in his old hoodie, your phone face-down on the cushion next to you. You hadn’t touched it. Couldn’t. Not after everything that happened last night.

But you still watched. Of course you did.

You watched him climb to P2 with that ferocity he got when he was hurting — when the world got too loud and the only thing that made sense was speed and silence.

And you knew.

You knew the way he drove today — all risk, all edge — it wasn’t just about the race.

It was about you.

About what went unsaid. About all the things he didn’t have time for, didn’t know how to hold without squeezing too tight.

And then Lap 47 happened.

Your breath hitched the moment the camera cut to the onboard.

A twitch of the rear. A flash of gravel. That helpless slide.

And then the wall.

You flinched, hands flying to your mouth. “No, no, no—”

He was okay. The commentators said so. He got out on his own. Gave the thumbs up. The crowd even clapped.

But it didn’t matter.

Because you saw his helmet drop forward before he climbed out. Saw the slump of his shoulders. Not pain — not physical. But something heavier. Something cracked.

Your chest ached.

You should’ve gone.

But you couldn’t be the one always fixing it. Always running after the pieces he scattered when things got hard.

So you stayed.

And now, all you could do was sit there — staring at the screen, heart splintering — and wish that being in love with him didn’t hurt so damn much.

⸻

The race ends without him.

You mute the TV long before the podium ceremony. You don’t need to see Oscar spraying champagne or hear commentators dissecting the crash like it was just another technical error. It wasn’t just a mistake on Lap 47. It was a pressure cooker, and you could feel it long before the lights even went out.

You spend the next hour pacing.

Not because you’re waiting on him.

You tell yourself that again and again.

But every time your phone buzzes, you whip around like it might be him at your door.

It isn’t.

You open the window when the apartment feels too small, the hoodie you’re wearing swallowing your frame, sleeves soaked from where your fingertips keep nervously twisting at the cuffs.

Outside, the city glows like nothing’s broken. But inside, everything feels cracked open.

You should message him. You should ask if he’s okay — physically, at least.

But you don’t.

Because you’re tired of being the first to reach for something that feels like it’s always slipping through your fingers.

You light a candle just to have something warm in the room. Sit at the kitchen table — the one you never really use unless it’s the two of you. There’s still a tiny scratch on the edge of it from when he got too enthusiastic slicing sourdough. You almost smile.

Almost.

You stare at your phone for what feels like forever.

Then—

A soft knock.

You freeze.

It’s nearly 9 p.m.

The knock comes again — tentative, like whoever’s on the other side isn’t sure they should even be there.

You open the door slowly.

Lando’s standing there.

Hair slightly flattened like he’s run his hand through it a thousand times. Jacket zipped up to his chin. One hand in his pocket, the other holding nothing — no flowers, no apology, no shield. Just him.

He looks…tired.

But not from the crash.

From everything else.

“Hi,” he says, voice low and frayed. Like he almost didn’t trust it to come out.

You don’t speak. You just look at him. He looks at you.

And for a long moment, it’s just that.

Silence stretched between the doorframe and the guilt on his face.

“I shouldn’t have walked away last night,” he finally says. “I didn’t know you walked home. I didn’t know you left your keys. I—”

You swallow. The ache in your throat sharp.

“I watched the race.”

His shoulders fall. “Yeah.”

“You were chasing Oscar.”

“I was trying to outrun everything.”

You nod once, slow. “Did it work?”

He shakes his head.

“No,” he says. “It made it worse.”

You finally step back, opening the door a little wider. Just enough.

He doesn’t move immediately. He looks at you like he doesn’t deserve to come in.

Maybe he doesn’t.

But you also know what it took for him to show up.

So you let him in.

Not with words.

Not yet.

Just with a step. A breath.

And the tiniest tilt of your head toward the quiet inside.

He walks in like someone who’s been holding his breath for forty-seven laps.

And you — you shut the door behind him, not sure what comes next.

But for now, you’re both in the same room.

And maybe that’s where the healing starts. In the same way pain grows.

⸻

You lead him in without touching him. He toes off his shoes automatically, as if he’s been here a thousand times (he has), but tonight the movement looks unsure, like he expects you to say don’t.

You don’t.

He glances at the candle on your table. Vanilla and cedar. Soft. Safe. Wrong, maybe — because tonight doesn’t feel soft. But you left it lit anyway.

“Sit,” you say, nodding toward the chair across from yours.

He does. Carefully. Like sitting too hard might crack the air.

Up close you see the day on him: light graze across one wrist where the steering wheel snapped back in the hit, red pressure lines on his neck from belts, shadows under his eyes. He keeps his hands flat on the table so you can see them. You realize that’s deliberate.

He swallows. “I brought your keys.”

Your gaze flicks to his palm. He slides them across the table — the familiar ring, chipped orange tag, your car fob. The sight knocks something loose in your chest.

“I noticed them in the bowl after you left,” he says. “Didn’t…didn’t realize you’d walked until—” He stops, jaw locking. “Until I checked the hall cam and saw you go. No coat. Well—thin one. Not warm. And those stupid shoes.”

You huff out a humorless sound. “Didn’t feel the cold ‘til halfway home.”

“I should’ve gone after you.” His voice cracks. “I should’ve stopped you before you got to the door.”

You stare at him. “You should’ve eaten dinner.”

His eyes close. Slow. Painful. “Yeah.”

Silence stretches. You pick at the edge of the napkin you’d dropped there earlier. He watches your fingers like they’re the most important thing in the room.

Finally you say, “You texted.”

“I did.” He nods. “All bounced. Phone off?”

“Yeah.”

“Were you…were you done? With me?” The question is small. Terrified.

“No.” Your answer is immediate, quiet. “But I was done running after you when you shut the door.”

He sits with that. Doesn’t argue. Doesn’t defend.

“I get that,” he says at last. “You always come find me when I close up. I think I got used to it. Counted on it. That’s…awful.” He shakes his head. “You shouldn’t have to drag me back to us every time I spiral.”

Your throat tightens. “It’s not that I mind supporting you. I mind being treated like pressure when I’m trying to be a place to land.”

He looks up fast. “You are. You are that. I was just—” He exhales hard. “I was angry at myself and I threw it at you. And I hate that I did that, and now I crashed a car and nearly put it in the wall for good because my head was not where it needed to be, and all I could think mid-spin was you’re not here and that’s on me.”

You don’t realize you’ve stood until you’re moving. You grab a clean dish towel, dampen it, circle back and hold out your hand. “Let me see your wrist.”

He offers it without a word. Trust, quiet and unearned, but there.

You dab at the reddened skin. He flinches once. Doesn’t pull away.

“Hurts?” you murmur.

“Not as much as last night.”

You roll your eyes, but your thumb softens against his pulse. His shoulders drop an inch.

“I need a rule,” he says. “We do. No walking off. No doors shut until we say what’s real.”

You look up. “And no calling me needy when I ask for time.”

His answer is immediate. “Never again.”

You study him—searching for deflection, for race-face, for anything false. You don’t see it.

“Okay,” you say.

He lets out a breath he’s been holding since Lap 47.

⸻

Not Fixed. Starting.

You heat water for tea. He stands and helps without asking, moving around your kitchen like he’s trying to relearn a language he once spoke fluently. He opens the wrong cupboard first. You point. He smiles—brief, tired, real.

When the mugs are on the table, he curls his fingers around his like he needs the heat.

“I’ve got a car debrief tomorrow,” he says, eyes still on the steam. “And media. But after that…can I come back? Properly? No helmet. No excuses. We talk until we’re done.”

You don’t make it easy. “You showing up doesn’t erase the pattern.”

“I know.” He finally looks at you. “I’m asking for the chance to change it.”

You sit with that. Let him feel the wait.

“Come after,” you say at last. “Bring food. And apologize twice.”

He huffs out a wet laugh. “Deal.”

You slide his keys back across the table. “You’re driving.”

“For dinner?”

“For us time,” you correct.

His shoulders square, like the words put him back on a grid he wants to be on.

“Copy,” he says softly. “Us time.”

⸻

You both sip in silence for a while. The kind that isn’t awkward, but not quite comfortable either. Like you’re sitting at the edge of something and neither of you is ready to step forward just yet. The tea helps. It gives your hands something to do, your lips a reason to move without needing to speak.

He watches the rim of his mug. Then, without looking up, he says:

“I’m sorry.”

It’s soft. Like if he says it too loud, it might shatter between you.

You don’t interrupt. You let him go on.

“I’m sorry for snapping. For saying things that weren’t fair. For making you feel like your care was a burden. That was never true. I was spiraling, and instead of letting you help, I dragged you down with me.”

He finally looks at you. His eyes are red-rimmed now — not from tears, exactly, but from the exhaustion that comes after them.

“I’m sorry for all of it. For needing you and pretending I didn’t.”

You press your mug to your lips, mostly to stop them from trembling. The words dig deep, but not in a painful way. More like pulling out a thorn that’s been buried too long.

You set the mug down.

“I know things are hard for you,” you say quietly. “But I can’t be the only one carrying both of us every time it gets messy. You shut me out. You made me feel like I was just noise. And I didn’t know how to keep fighting for someone who didn’t seem to want me in the room.”

His shoulders cave a little. But he nods.

“I did. I pushed you out. And I regret it. I… I don’t want to be someone who only reaches for you when I’m hurting. I want to reach for you when I’m okay too. I want to be better.”

You study him. This isn’t just guilt talking. It’s something quieter. Like a door cracked open — not begging you to step inside, but offering to finally show you what’s behind it.

You don’t say you forgive him yet. But you do reach across the table and slide your fingers over his.

He goes completely still. Then, slowly, his hand turns palm-up and curls around yours.

It’s not a resolution. Not fully. But it’s a choice — to try.

You sit like that for a while. Mugs forgotten. Fingers loosely tangled.

Eventually, he asks, voice rasping, “Can I stay?”

You glance at him.

“On the couch?” he adds quickly. “Or I’ll drive home. Whatever you want. Just— I don’t want to leave things like this again.”

You squeeze his hand.

“You can stay,” you say. “But I pick the blanket this time.”

That earns the first real smile from him all night.

“Deal.”

⸻

You hand him the blanket from the back of the couch — the soft one he always teases you about, saying it looks like something your grandmother would knit. He doesn’t say anything this time. Just takes it with a small, grateful nod.

He lowers himself onto the couch like every movement costs him. The crash, the press conferences, the silence between you — it’s all settled in his shoulders. You know that look. He won’t sleep much.

You hover awkwardly for a second, half-turning toward the hall, toward your bedroom. But something keeps your feet planted.

“I’ll get you a pillow,” you say, already moving toward the linen closet.

By the time you return, he’s kicked his shoes off and sunk low into the cushions, the blanket pulled up to his chest. His eyes are open, staring at the ceiling.

You place the pillow beside him and linger a second too long.

“Do you want me to leave a light on?” you ask.

He looks at you. Really looks at you. And for a moment, he seems younger. Smaller. Not the Lando that everyone expects to be okay all the time. Just him.

“No,” he murmurs. “Just… stay for a second?”

So you sit on the edge of the coffee table, knees nearly brushing his.

“You scared me today,” you admit, voice quiet. “When I saw the crash, I couldn’t breathe. And then you didn’t get out right away and…”

You trail off.

“I know,” he whispers. “I scared myself too.”

His hand emerges from under the blanket. Hesitantly. Like he doesn’t know if he’s allowed. You don’t think twice — you take it.

It’s warm, calloused from years of racing, trembling ever so slightly.

You sit like that for a long while — his hand in yours, the dark wrapping around you both like a safety net. Eventually, his eyes drift closed.

You ease your hand away slowly and stand. For a second, you just look at him — the slow rise and fall of his chest, the wrinkle between his brows that stays even when he sleeps.

You pull the blanket up higher over his shoulder and turn off the last light.

Before you leave the room, you pause.

“I’m still here,” you whisper. “Even when it’s hard.”

He doesn’t answer — already half asleep. But maybe that’s okay.

You meant it more for yourself anyway.

⸻

The Morning After

When you wake, the apartment is still. A gentle, grey-blue haze filters through the curtains — that hazy, reluctant morning light where everything feels softer than it should. Your limbs are heavy, the kind of tired that doesn’t go away with just sleep. The kind that lives in your chest.

You stay in bed for a while, letting your eyes adjust, listening.

Nothing.

Eventually, you throw on your robe and pad into the hallway. The silence makes your heart skip — that irrational fear he might’ve left again. That this whole thing was a fragile, too-late apology wrapped in tea and exhaustion and not something that would hold in daylight.

But when you round the corner into the living room, you stop.

Lando’s still there.

He’s sitting on the couch with the blanket draped over his lap, hair a mess, hoodie wrinkled, and your old mug cradled in both hands. It’s probably cold tea by now, but he’s holding it like it anchors him.

He looks up when he hears your footsteps. His eyes are puffy, exhausted, a little bloodshot — but they soften when they find yours.

“Hey,” he says, voice scratchy.

You offer a small nod and lean against the doorframe. “Hey.”

“I didn’t sleep much,” he adds. Like he owes you an explanation. Like he’s afraid you’ll read too much into the bags under his eyes.

You nod again, arms folding over your chest.

“I didn’t either,” you say.

He watches you for a moment, and then gestures to the space beside him. “You don’t have to… but, if you want…”

You hesitate. Not because you don’t want to — but because it still hurts. Because it’s still raw. But you cross the room anyway and sit beside him. Not too close, not pressed against him. Just enough.

The silence stretches between you again — but this time, it’s gentler. Like it’s holding space, not keeping score.

He glances down at the mug in his hands. “I was gonna make breakfast, but I couldn’t find anything I wouldn’t set on fire.”

That earns a soft laugh out of you — not big, not bright, but real.

“Good,” you murmur. “I wasn’t ready to lose the kitchen too.”

He huffs a laugh, then sobers. “I don’t want to mess this up.”

Your breath catches.

“I know I’ve been selfish. I know I make it hard sometimes. But I’m trying. I want to keep trying. Not just say sorry when I crash into things — people. You.”

You look at him then — really look. At the sincere lines in his face, the bruise blooming faintly on his jaw, the worry shadowed behind his eyes.

“I don’t need perfect, Lando,” you whisper. “But I need you to show up. Not just when it’s convenient or when you’re afraid I’ll leave. I need you… before it breaks.”

He nods, slowly, taking that in. “I can do that. I will.”

A long beat passes.

He turns slightly toward you. “Can I ask something stupid?”

You raise a brow. “You’re Lando Norris. That’s kind of your brand.”

That draws a quiet, thankful smile. His eyes flick down, then up again.

“Can I hug you?”

You pause — not because you’re unsure, but because the question hits you somewhere deep. The version of him that’s here right now — this careful, vulnerable, almost boyish one — is so different from the defensive storm from two nights ago.

So you nod. Slowly.

And when he pulls you into his arms, it’s gentle. No pressure. Just warmth. Just arms around you like they remember exactly how you fit.

You lean into it. Not fully. Not all the way yet.

But enough.

And for now… enough is everything.

⸻

You stay in his arms longer than you planned. It’s quiet, but not uncomfortable. Just your head against his shoulder, your hand resting lightly over his heart — like you’re checking to make sure it’s still beating, still steady, still his.

And it is. It always was.

“I missed you,” he murmurs, lips brushing your hair.

You close your eyes. “You had a funny way of showing it.”

He flinches a little — not from anger, but from truth. His arm tightens gently around you.

“I know,” he says, and it’s not just apology in his voice now — it’s grief. Grief for what he almost lost. “You didn’t deserve that. Any of it.”

You don’t answer. Not right away.

Because you’ve heard the apologies before — in quieter tones, after bad races, in hotel rooms between travel days, when exhaustion made both of you fray at the seams. But this feels different.

Not like a quick patch.

Like something slower. Something earned.

Eventually, you pull back just enough to see his face. His eyes are searching, like he’s waiting for a verdict. Like he’d let you decide if today is a beginning or just the end delayed.

You lift your hand and lightly brush your thumb along his jaw, careful of the healing scrape there from the crash.

“You scared me,” you admit, voice barely a breath.

“I scared myself,” he replies.

You nod. Let the weight of that settle.

“And I know,” he continues, eyes never leaving yours, “I’ve made it feel like you’re the one always chasing me. And I hate that. I don’t want to be someone you have to fix, Y/N. I want to meet you halfway. I want to show up before I give you reasons to leave.”

Your throat tightens. You want to believe him. Part of you already does.

But it’s hard to unlearn disappointment. To untangle all the little ways you’ve swallowed your needs just to keep things from crumbling.

“You don’t have to have it all figured out,” you whisper. “I just need to know I’m not alone in this.”

“You’re not,” he says immediately. “Not anymore. Not ever again.”

He says it like a promise.

And for the first time in a while, it actually feels like one.

You nod again, slowly. Then lean into him, pressing your forehead to his shoulder.

“I made you tea,” you murmur. “You didn’t even drink it.”

He lets out a breath — almost a laugh — and rubs your back lightly. “It was cold by the time I could even hold it without shaking.”

You pull back just enough to smirk at him. “Want me to make another?”

He tilts his head. “Only if you’re having one too.”

“Deal.”

You stand, padding toward the kitchen. He follows after a moment, slower this time — not rushing, not trying to fix things instantly. Just there. Present.

And that, more than anything, feels like progress.

The tea steams between you both on the table. There’s still a lot to say. Still quiet between the cracks. But this morning, he doesn’t walk away. He holds the mug in both hands, like it matters.

And you hold onto the hope that maybe this time, things will be different — not perfect, not easy, but real. Repairable. Rooted.

Because he’s here.

And so are you.

⸻

You blow gently on the surface of your tea, watching the way the steam curls up and disappears into the soft morning light. Across the table, Lando is doing the same — eyes on his mug, jaw tight in that way you know means he’s thinking too hard.

It’s still quiet.

But it’s not cold anymore.

You take a small sip, letting the warmth settle in your chest. And when you glance up, he’s already watching you. Not intense or demanding — just… there. Like he’s grounding himself in the sight of you.

“I didn’t sleep,” he says, voice rough.

You nod. “Me neither.”

“I kept thinking you’d show up at the track,” he continues, his eyes dropping to the table. “And when you didn’t… that’s when it hit me. How badly I’d screwed it all up.”

You don’t say anything, because part of you still aches — not out of anger, but out of exhaustion. Emotional exhaustion, the kind that builds over weeks of being sidelined, made small, asked to hold everything together without being asked how you’re doing.

So instead, you reach for your tea again and let him talk.

“I panicked,” he admits. “Before the race, during it. I couldn’t focus. I kept thinking about what I said, how I left things. I was chasing Oscar and all I could think about was how I couldn’t even hold onto the one person who actually gives a damn about me when it’s not about podiums or press conferences.”

His voice breaks a little near the end.

You look at him fully now. Not guarded. Just quiet.

“I’m tired, Lando,” you whisper. “I’m tired of always being the one who makes room. Of being the one who stays calm when you’re under pressure, who understands every cancellation, every late-night call. And I get it — I really do. But sometimes, I just need to be more than an afterthought.”

“I know,” he says immediately. “I know that now. And it kills me that you even felt that way.”

There’s a beat of silence.

Then:

“I don’t want to live a life that shuts you out,” he says. “Not anymore. I’ve been scared of messing up so badly that I forgot what I already have — someone who sees me even when I can’t win. Someone who waits. Someone who comes home cold and hurting and still gives me a second chance.”

You blink back the sudden sting in your eyes.

“I didn’t come home for you, Lando,” you say softly. “I came home for me.”

He nods. “I know. But I’m glad you let me in anyway.”

You stare at him for a long moment. And then — because the silence is soft again, because he finally looks like he means it, because you’re still allowed to care even when you’re hurting — you reach across the table and take his hand.

His thumb brushes over your knuckles, gentle. Grateful.

“I’m gonna be better,” he says. “Not perfect. But better. I want to be someone who meets you halfway. No more chasing. Just… choosing each other.”

And maybe that’s what you needed to hear all along.

Not a speech. Not promises laced in adrenaline.

Just him. Sitting across from you. Owning his part in what went wrong — and asking, softly, if there’s still a path forward.

You squeeze his hand.

“We’ll figure it out.”

He smiles. It’s tired. But it’s real.

It feels like the start of something worth rebuilding.

⸻

The tea sits forgotten on the table, cooling slowly. There’s something quieter now in the air — not tension, not regret, but something fragile and warm, like the moment after a storm when the air is still thick with the memory of it.

Lando shifts beside you on the couch, one arm stretched across the back, the other resting in his lap. You sit cross-legged, still curled into your robe, exhaustion tugging at your shoulders — not just from the night, but from the days before it, from the walking, from the weight of pretending you were fine when you weren’t.

He notices. Of course he does.

His gaze drops to your feet — bare now, marked faintly red around the ankles where your shoes had rubbed raw. His brows pinch.

“Your feet hurt?”

You glance at them, then give a tired little nod. “Yeah. I walked too far in the wrong shoes. Rookie mistake.”

Without a word, he reaches over and gently lifts your legs, guiding your feet into his lap. It’s so casual, so easy, like he’s done it a thousand times before — but it still makes your chest go tight.

You watch him silently as he settles in. He wraps both hands around one foot, thumbs pressing in slow, careful circles into your arch. His touch is steady, grounding — not romantic, not performative, just a quiet offering. Just care.

“You should’ve called me,” he murmurs, not looking up. “I would’ve come.”

“I didn’t think you wanted me to,” you say quietly. “Not after everything.”

He swallows hard, fingers pausing briefly. “I always want you to. Even when I’m an idiot. Especially then.”

You don’t reply. You just let your head tip back against the cushion, eyes fluttering closed, breathing out slow and even as his fingers move with purpose and precision.

After a few moments, he switches to your other foot. His thumbs move a little deeper now, easing into the sore muscles there, and you let out a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding.

“I forgot how bad you are at this,” you mumble, but your voice is soft, teasing.

He snorts. “Liar. I’m amazing. You’re just stubborn.”

You smile. The ache in your feet fades, replaced by something warm and safe. Something you haven’t felt in a while.

Then his hands slow.

He shifts again, this time drawing you closer, gently tugging at your legs until you’re half-curled into his side. Your cheek finds his shoulder, his arm around your back. It’s not dramatic, not even a question — it’s instinct, the way he pulls you close like he needs to hold you there, like he needs you to feel it.

The safety. The apology. The truth of it.

You melt into him, your legs still draped across his lap, his hand now resting on your thigh, thumb tracing idle lines through the fabric of your robe.

He dips his chin slightly, letting it rest atop your head. His breath is warm against your temple.

“I don’t deserve this,” he whispers.

“Maybe not,” you reply, voice barely audible. “But I still want you here.”

His arms tighten just enough, like that sentence alone could be enough to hold him together.

And for a long time, you don’t speak. You just sit like that — legs tangled, head on his shoulder, heartbeats slowly syncing — the world quiet for the first time in what feels like days.

Not fixed.

Not perfect.

But, for once, safe.

And in the quiet, that’s enough.

⸻

Masterlist

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screambirdscreaming · 2 days ago

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Perhaps the most peeving thing here is the way people keep jumping up to say, "you dont understand! I just want comforting narratives where people like me are embraced by society, as a break from reading stuff where I have to think about implications - you just don't understand the appeal of reading cozy mindless things to relax!"

And I'm like. Actually I really do! I often enjoy stories that are comforting and not emotionally challenging! I just dont find narratives of assimilation comforting. I don't find it reassuring or mindless to be shown a world where certain people have been moved from the "marginalized" box to the "normalized" box, and proceed to have a totally standard normal-guy low-stakes narrative from the lap of societal acceptance! I dont find it at all a balm or comfort to the struggles of marginalization. I find it grating and exhausting, and it makes me feel *more* aware of the forces of oppression and how they exist as the necessary inverse process of the forces of normalization.

There's a lot of political baggage here, obviously. Without digging too deep into that: if the type of story that gives you the least cognitive dissonance is one where you are - without changing in any way - allowed back into realms of "socially normal", what that means is basically that you consider your expulsion from normalcy an aberration, rather than a sign of deep flaws in the concept of social acceptance. You have not integrated your own experience of marginalization into a perspective on what marginalization says about society. You have not sought solidarity with other perspectives on marginalization, or if you have, it's still with the back-pocket loophole that you think you might, personally, be allowed back in. And that you're not sure you wouldn't take it, if you were.

And I get that for queer people right now, a lot of this is hazy. Maybe you would be allowed back in! Maybe you are! There's been a big swing in social acceptance, even if it's really unstable. Maybe the idea of a world where you, personally, can go back to being unmarginalized is a possibility that feels genuinely comforting.

But if you, or your friends, are a little farther out of reach of that edge. If the nature of society is so fundamentally hostile to you that simply being "accepted back in" would not meaningfully alleviate what hurts you about society - if the bare minimum for a world that isn't hostile to you requires deeper than a surface-level change - than playing pretend with that surface level change provides no comfort. If anything, it makes the cognitive dissonance worse - and makes you feel like your supposed allies are fairweather friends who would ditch you in the struggle if they were offered a bargain of acceptance. Which is very lonely and upsetting.

Or, regardless of how personal it is to you, if you've read and thought deeply enough into history or social theory to see how arbitrarily constructed the whole concept of social acceptance is - if you're a bit aware of the implications and underpinnings of things like family structures and divisions of labor and the like - the kinds of slight-of-hand shortcuts that are used to put those problems out of sight become very frustrating. Again it's a matter of cognitive dissonance: whether the typical fiction/fantasy "stock answers" to various concerns reassure your sense of how things normally work, or whether they raise red flags of horrors shoved out of sight.

Some people will act like you're "overthinking everything" and "actively looking for problems" if you talk about your emotional reaction to those red flags. But no: it's as direct and thoughtless as the reaction of finding them a comforting reassurance of business going on as usual. (You could say, the curtains are red at home. Comfort is a matter of perspective!)

Anyway, it comes back to a baseline of: what ways of conceptualizing the world feel easy, comfortable, and thoughtless to you? They may not be the same as the concepts you would consciously acknowledge, or agree with on a cognitive level! There are a lot of layers to integrating ideas into your worldview. It can take a lot of time and reflection for things to reach deeply, to the level of your intuitive reactions.

When people say, "I know it doesn't really hold up to scrutiny, but it's just really mindless and relaxing" - what that indicates, I think, is a certain particular position on that curve of conceptual integration. Where your deep emotional relationship to the idea of normalcy and assimilation is in a different place than the concept you consciously hold. And I can see where people get really upset when you push on this, because it feels like you're invalidating the things they truly and actively believe, by pointing out that the things they emotionally resonate with are in fundamental contradiction to those beliefs.

But it's also really annoying when people insist that you "just don't understand the appeal of mindless comfort fiction", when what you are actually trying to say is that you think it would be nice if people wrote more fiction that was comforting to people who find the idea of assimilation uncomfortable.

#I'm not saying that the last sentence IS what people in this discussion have been saying in most cases #But I think it's an interesting subset case!#What is comforting when normalization is uncomfortable? It's a trickier question than just shoving the idea of marginalization under a rug!#Something this does not get into because I don't entirely have my head around it #Is that the section on 'society would have to change deeply to alleviate harms to you' i think actually applies to anyone #who bears children.#Really robust access to birth control and abortion might just about slide that back from including anyone who hypothetically could #bear children. Although the social stigma and barriers around reproductive autonomy mean we really aren't there #But also SO much about the process of actually physically bearing children and the lack of support in childrearing #especially in the earliest stages -#It is all kinds of bad.#But! Many many people are in extreme levels of denial about this even if it does apply to them!#Which complications the cognitive dissonance curve quite a bit in all sorts of ways.#Which I bring up here because the way fiction relates to the idea of birth control / abortion / reproductive autonomy #Is some of the most consistently extremely fucked up implications stuff across genres.#damn near nobody is doing a good job with that in my opinion!!#Even works that explicitly include mention of birth control portray societies that are clearly shaped by lack of reproductive autonomy #In basically all cases I have seen.#I don't knowwww man I also find utopias exhausting as a genre I'm not saying we should all be out here writing utopias #I don't think a story has to solve all problems with society to be comforting!#I just find a story which leans really hard on social acceptance as a primary provider of comfort to be really offputting!#And most efforts to erase a problem by slight of hand to put it out of sight end up having WAY worse implications than admitting it exists.#Sorry this is not coherent my brain is soup today.#Might be replaced by a better essay in future.#And apologies for my sloppy reiteration of that james baldwin quote about white gays. As always he says it best.

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birdofwildness · 2 days ago

Text

⋆☀︎｡Dreambound part 10

⋆☀︎︎｡Morpheus x underworld princess!reader

Summary::You beg your parents to save your husband.

Warnings::Smut,18+,piv

“You're going where?” he argued.

You crossed your arms, jaw set. “You heard me. I’m going to the Underworld. To speak to my parents.”

Morpheus stilled. “You would beg the King and Queen of the Dead to spare me from a fate decreed by beings older than time?”

You lifted a brow. “If that’s what it takes. Then yes.”

“No.” His answer was immediate. “You mustn’t.”

You scoffed. “Don’t tell me what I must or mustn’t do. They’re my parents.”

“They are gods,” he said.

“I’m doing this to save you,” you continued. “I’m your wife. I refuse to just stand here, smile, and watch the kindly ones rip you apart like a goddamn prophecy puppet.”

“You cannot interfere.”

“I already am.”

“What if they say no?”

You looked at him, and for the first time in days, let the fear crack through your voice.“Then at least I tried.”

...

The Underworld hadn’t changed.Still dark, still cold, still dripping with power.

Home. Sweet...or in this case,rotten home.

You walked the obsidian corridors with purpose, not just blood. Guards didn’t stop you,no one in their right mind stopped the daughter of Hades and Persephone when she moved like that.

There is no other monster, no other fire, like an unadorned woman.

You reached the throne room without a word, pushing open the massive doors.Your mother was seated, graceful as ever, dressed in silks the color of rotting pomegranates. Your father beside her,sharp angles and silence carved into bone.

You slowed as you approached, squaring your shoulders before dropping into a short, respectful bow,just enough to show you remembered who they were. And who you were.“Mother. Father.”

Persephone gave a slight smile. “Y/N,” she said, her voice soft but not warm. “It’s been some time.”

“I didn’t come for pleasantries.”

“Then what?” he said, voice still low. “Did your husband raise a hand to you?”

You blinked.“What—? No!”

“Because if he did,” Hades continued, calm as death, “he’ll never dream again. I’ll make sure of it. Limb by limb. Thought by thought. Until there’s nothing left.”

Persephone sighed beside him, unbothered.“Not everything is solved with dismemberment.”

“Most things are,” he muttered.

You raised a hand, pinching the bridge of your nose.“Gods, no. He didn’t hit me. I’m trying to save him.”

“Pity,” Hades murmured.

You steadied your voice.“I came because the Furies want him dead.”

Persephone’s expression didn’t change. Not even a blink. Hades simply looked at you.“So?” your father said at last.

You frowned. “So? So?! I—”

Persephone cut in. “He is not our concern.”

“He’s my husband.”

“He’s also one of the Endless,” Hades replied, folding his hands together. “Not a child in need of parental rescue. If his actions have led him to the Furies, then let him answer for them.”

You clenched your jaw. “You think I haven’t tried everything else?”

Persephone finally stood.Her beauty was quiet and terrifying.“You chose to love a god who trades in dreams and consequences. It is not our fault.”

“You're judging me?” you snapped.

Hades leaned back on his throne, his gaze impassive.“You ask us to interfere with forces even we respect,” he said. “You ask us to risk our realm for love. That’s not strategy. That’s foolish.”

You swallowed hard.“It’s not just love,” you said quietly. “It’s mine.”

Persephone and Hades fell silent.You didn’t lower your gaze.

“If you won’t help me,” you said evenly, “then I’ll face the Furies myself. Alone, if I have to.”

Hades laughed. Cold. Dry. Hollow.“You? Alone? Against the Kindly Ones?”

He shook his head.“You’d jeopardize the balance of the realms for your husband?”

“I’d do worse,” you replied.“If it meant keeping him alive.”

Persephone’s eyes flashed.“You’d risk everything we’ve built. The peace we’ve held. The respect we’ve earned.”

You shrugged.“Then maybe it’s not worth as much as you think.”

Hades’ eyes darkened.His voice, when it came, echoed through the hall like thunder.“Enough.”

It nearly made you flinch,but you didn’t. You stood your ground, defiant, chin held high.

“If you choose to stand against the Furies,” he said, his tone dangerously calm, “then do not expect our protection.”

“Leave. Before I forget you’re my daughter.”

...

The air shifted the moment you stepped back into the Dreaming.Gone was the choking heaviness of the Underworld — replaced by the quiet hum of dreams, soft and alive, threaded with starlight. But even that could not quiet the storm still churning in your chest.

You didn’t teleport directly to Morpheus. You couldn’t. Not yet.So instead, you landed in one of the palace halls.

Your shoes echoed faintly as you moved, each step louder.Anger clung to you.Shame, too, but buried deep. You had stood before the gods who raised you, and they had turned their backs.

Your hands clenched at your sides as you walked, breath tight in your throat. Part of you wanted to scream. Another part just wanted to see him,just to make sure he was still here, still real, still breathing.

“Back so soon?” came a voice. You turned to see Lucienne.

You didn’t look at her right away.“It went about as well as you'd expect when you tell the King and Queen of the Dead to help save your emo husband from three cosmic harpies.”

“So. Badly...shall I prepare tea?”.

“Not today. Thank you.”

You barely made it halfway down the corridor when the air shifted.Three shadows stepped into your path. Three sets of eyes, ageless, merciless,fixed on you like you were already guilty.

The Maiden tilted her head. “You walk with heavy steps, daughter of the Underworld.”

The Mother’s voice slithered around you. “Did you go to them? Did they give you what you came for?”

The Crone’s lips twisted into something close to a grin. “Or did they send you crawling back with empty hands?”

You exhaled through your nose. “You always show up when I’m about to seduce my husband. You think that’s symbolic?”

“Answer the question,” the Mother said.

You folded your arms. “No. They didn’t help me.”

“And you?” the Crone asked. “Have you chosen sides, little goddess?”

You didn’t blink.“I’ve chosen him.”

“Then it is war,” the Maiden whispered.

And just like that, they vanished.

War.

You stood there a moment longer, shoulders tense, before finally pushing open the door his chambers. His chambers, that turned to be yours aswell.

The door shut behind you with a soft click.He was there, as always, seated on the edge of the bed. His back was to you, shoulders hunched, head slightly bowed,but he looked up the moment you stepped inside.

“Dearest.” he said softly. “You’re back.”

You nodded, slower than usual.You walked to him, your movements more careful than they needed to be, and sat beside him without a word.

“They said I was reckless,” you murmured finally, staring down at your hands. “That I was foolish for even asking. That siding with you would mean risking the balance of the Underworld.”

Morpheus didn’t answer at first. His gaze lowered, unreadable and still.“You came back to end it, didn’t you?”

You blinked, caught off guard. “What?”

“Our marriage,” he said, still not looking at you. “It’s the logical conclusion. Your parents have disowned you, the Kindly Ones seek my end, and now you stand to lose everything for staying by my side.”

“My love—”

He stood up slowly.“I would not blame you,” he said, voice barely above a whisper. “You owe me nothing.”

You stared at him for a long moment. Then you stood too.No distance between you.

“That’s not why I came back,” you said. “I didn’t walk into the Underworld just to crawl back out and abandon you.”

His eyes met yours. He looked scared.

“I came back to you.” you said.

His lips parted like he might say something,but the words never came. Instead, he reached for your hand, fingers brushing over your knuckles with a care that made your chest ache.

“If you back down now,perhaps the kindly one's will have mercy on you.”

“I do not wish to.”

You leaned in first.Your lips met his softly.He kissed you back with equal tenderness, no urgency, no weight of kingship or doom.Just him, and just you.

When you finally pulled back, he didn’t say anything. Just rested his forehead against yours, eyes closed, hands still holding yours like they were the only thing keeping him steady.

“I missed you,” he whispered.

“I wasn’t gone long.”

“I still missed you.”

Morpheus’s fingers traced lightly along your wrist, his gaze diving deeper into you than ever before.

“I can’t lose you,” he whispered, gently brushing a stray lock of hair behind your ear. “Not now. Not like this.”

You stepped closer, the heat of his body against yours both tender and burning. Your fingers curled around his neck while his hands settled on your waist.

Your kiss deepened slowly with the quiet desperation of someone who had written a thousand stories but was afraid of the ending to this one. His thumbs found the edge of your jaw, tilting your face just so, as if trying to see every expression, every flicker of want in your eyes.

You helped him shed the layers.The robe slipped from his shoulders, and your hands followed, brushing over pale skin.He trembled under your touch.

The bed behind him met the backs of his knees, and he sat, looking up at you like you were some miracle conjured from starlight. You crawled onto his lap, straddling him slowly, your hands braced against his chest.

He leaned into your touch, his lips ghosting along your throat, your collarbone, reverent, never rushed. “Why did you come back?” he breathed against your skin.

You held his face in your hands. “Because I love you.”

That broke something in him.His eyes darken, a flicker of something possessive sparking behind the stars in his gaze.

His hands roamed now, slower but needier, mapping your body.Your thighs bracketed his hips, your bodies pressing closer, breath and skin and need all tangled together. Every shift of movement sparked heat, and still, neither of you rushed it. This was worship.

You kissed him again, slower this time, savoring the way his lips parted under yours, the low sound he made in the back of his throat when your hips shifted against his.

He undressed you like you were something sacred, like he’d been waiting lifetimes to touch you like this. And when his fingers brushed bare skin, he stilled in awe.

“You’re divine,” he said softly, like it wasn’t nearly enough.

When he slid inside you, it was careful.His forehead pressed to yours, and you both froze for a breath, for the unbearable sweetness of being one.

You gasped, and he kissed the sound from your mouth.You rocked against him slowly, letting every shift of your hips, every breath and moan and whispered promise, build something sacred between you.

“You're perfect,” he whispered, voice cracking like a prayer. “You were made for me.”

“Yes” you breathed. “I’m yours.”

His hands gripped your hips tighter, his mouth finding the curve of your shoulder, your neck, your collarbone. Kissing, tasting, worshiping.

And when it finally crested, when your body trembled against his and his name broke free from your lips, he followed you into it, burying his face in your shoulder, breath shuddering as he let go with you.

For a long time, neither of you moved. His arms around your back, your fingers curled into his hair.

He pulled you close, voice hoarse. “I love—love.Love you.”

You kissed his temple., “I figured,beloved.”

And in that moment, tangled together in warmth and starlight, you both believed in a happy ending.

#morpheus x reader #dream of the endless x reader #dream of the endless #the sandman x reader #the sandman #the sandman season 2

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maudie-duan · 3 days ago

Text

Summary: "And that’s when the tears came. The kind that stole your words and left you in silence, defeated as they slipped down your cheeks in hushed streams, and you forced yourself to turn, to face the mirror that you had allowed to become the enemy."

A/N: Based on this request<- LH!Harry x Plus-sized!Reader Thanks so much for this request @vikiii07 It's finally done. Thank you for your lovely patience!!!! 💓

Word Count: 5.8K

Warnings: Angsty self-hate with a happy ending, and a mild sweet smut scene at the end that you can skip if that's not your cup of tea. (Heavy themes centered around hatred of body-image/body shaming. All self-induced)

“Babe! I think those swimsuits you ordered finally came in the mail.” Harry announced, calling from down the hallway.

This wasn’t what you wanted to hear. You had spent the morning in bed, dreading the idea of getting dressed after your shower. You were in one of those moods, you know, the self-depracating kind where nothing you did, or anything anyone said, was satisfying. You wanted to blame it on your period, knowing it was only days away from starting, but you knew that wasn’t truly the issue, even if you could feel it in your mood, and most of all your body.

“Which ones did you end up buying, love? Any that I picked out?” He asked, placing the package next to you on the bed.

There it was, a daunting, bland box you knew would only make your day worse. You didn’t want to face it, and you weren’t ready to see what the extra weight from your recent vacation did to your body. It’s not like you didn’t know it was there, that you didn’t feel it in the already snug waist of your yoga pants, which you had been squeezing yourself into, hoping that the high waistband would be tight enough to hold everything back.

And of course it did, but only while standing.

When your eyes met Harry’s, he had that hopeful look in his eye, the one you were trying to avoid. It was too positive, too reassuring in this silent moment of self-crisis.

“What are the chances of me getting a little fashion show?” he asked, leaning in to press a kiss to your forehead. “You know that’s my favorite love.”

When he pulls back to stare into your eyes, that look of positivity morphs into something searching. His eyes roam over your face, a sly smirk now playing at the corner of his mouth. You knew what he wanted; you could see it in his gaze. That need arising—you’ve seen it for days now, that want knocking at the door of your thin composure.

Yet you’ve avoided this very moment at all costs.

“Maybe I’ll try them on later. I’m not really feeling it right now.” You tell him, hoping that will be enough, but then he gives you that “come on, babe” look. The one where he cocks his head and smiles, his wordless plea louder than any words he could say, and it’s so gentle, so fucking genuine, that you have to turn away and throw the blankets over your head, so you didn’t get sucked in.

The box hits the floor from your sudden stir, and the loud thud echoes in the room. You listen as Harry picks it up, opens the side table next to the bed, and the next thing you hear is the sound of tape tearing, and you rip the blankets off your head like the gremlin you’re trying to become, narrowing your eyes at him, as you take in his joyful curiosity.

“Harry…”

“What, babe? I just want to see…”

You roll your eyes and turn to face him, “There’s nothing to see, they’re just swimsuits.” You tried, but then he was pulling them out one by one, excitement etched into his features like a kid in a candy store.

“These are great, love. So sexy—oh, baby, you did get the one I liked most…that one’s going to be—“

“Hideous.” You say, cutting him off, “disgusting…”

You watch as his cheerful expression falters, “Well, those wouldn’t be my describing words, darling.”

“Harry just put them back in the box. I don’t even want to look at them… I’m not in the mood.” You push, sitting up in bed, gathering your robe closed at the neck, not a single inch of flesh showing.

“Come on, love. We could have a beach day—“ And your head falls against the headboard at the mention of sun and what that would entail, yeah, right… You thought, go to the beach… like this, and chance anyone’s eyes on you… yeah right.

“Babe, that’s actually the exact opposite of what I want right now.” You answer, eyes falling to the box.

He laughs, holding up a basic black one-piece, and his face lights up, like it’s the sexiest thing he’s ever seen, “black is always classic, I bet this would look really cute on you…although it seems like it would cover all the good stuff…”

Then he grabs another, the bottoms to the two piece bikini with high waisted bottoms, except it was just the bottoms, and he held them up puzzled, a curious pull between his brows, and you sat there mortified, thinking they looked like the biggest pair of granny panties you had ever seen, thinking wow, there was nothing cute about them whatsoever, and when he held them up to his body, trying to figure out their function you held your breath, wondering why the hell they looked even bigger held against his body.

“Oh, they’re bottoms…are they supposed to be high or something?” He asks, genuinely confused. The thing was. There was no tone, no hint of mockery, the guy was asking a simple question, but something in you felt defensive, felt the need to dumb him down, because how dare he not know exactly what they were the second he held them up, exposing their size, unknowingly projecting back the exact reason you bought them in the first place, and somehow him holding them up to his thin frame only stirred that feeling further.

“Yes, Harry, they’re high-waisted bottoms…” You say, yanking them out of his hand and onto the bed.

“I’m sorry, I guess I didn’t know they made them. It seems like they would cover your tummy—”

“Well—yeah. That’s the point. Not every swimsuit has to be a string of floss to be sexy…” You huffed out watching him grab a V-cut shaped pair of bottoms that would have your ass hanging out on full display, and you knew instantly that this was the one he picked out.

“Ahhh… This is the one I chose…Remember…” and of course you remember how could you forget? You had been scrolling for thirty minutes, endless options right at the tips of your fingers, but nothing looked amazing, and every couple of seconds, you would catch yourself sighing every time you thought of the idea of purchasing a single one.

That’s when Harry decided to help, your sigh calling him like a siren for help. “That one’s cute. The way it goes up higher on the sides. Sexy even.” Harry told you, pointing at a thong high-rise bikini with thick sides.

You had already had three other suits in the cart, none that you were entirely thrilled about, but you were going to buy them anyway, because if you were going to suffer, you might as well have options.

“Can you add that one to the cart? Just for fun, maybe you can try it on for me when it comes in?” He asked, nuzzling his nose into your neck.

You hit add, already dreading the idea, and when you checked out, and got the confirmation email for your purchase, you let Harry have his way with you, feeding into his apparent want, and as he pressed you to the bed, your mind was already wandering to the prison it would hold you in for weeks to come every time his hand gripped a handful of ass or dug into the meat at your sides.

And now, here was that full circle moment, you looking up into Harry’s eyes, staring back at you with that same look of want, and how could you deny him something so small and trivial… but this is what you were telling yourself, your mind already out to please, because was it really a small and trivial idea? Because the idea of stretching that elastic material to form around your body felt cruel, this body, in which you had been growing to hate.

Because it wasn’t small? In fact, it was big, depleting even. A kind courtesy, yes, but at your expense, just to make someone else happy. Especially when everything in you already felt like shit… but you wanted to make him happy, make his day, do the kind favor of trying on a silly swimsuit. Could it really be that bad?

“Fine,” you hear yourself say, the word escaping on a sigh of defeat. Your fingers reach for the high-waisted set first, and you snatch it off the bed, as you rise, the fabric soft between your fingertips, betraying nothing of the misery it would soon inflict.

You watch as Harry’s expression changes, that boyish grin spreading across his face as he settles back against the pillows, ready for a show. “Brilliant, love. You’ll look absolutely stunning. All of these were great choices. I’m excited.”

His kind words were sharp against your mind as you gathered the pieces into your arms, along with the others, and headed toward the bathroom. It wasn’t until your hand touched the doorknob that his voice caught you.

“You’re not gonna change out here, love?” And his question is gentle, curious rather than accusatory. His head tilts slightly, and you can feel those green eyes studying you, trying to decipher this new puzzle, because it isn’t like you not to change in front of him.

“Umm.. It’s just... The bathroom has better lighting,” you force, not meeting his gaze, and the lie is bitter, but you turn the knob before you can second-guess yourself.

“Alright then,” he says simply, and you hear the rustle of sheets as he makes himself comfortable. No push, no pressure. Just Harry being Harry, and somehow that made the guilt settle even heavier in your chest.

When the bathroom door clicks shut behind you, suddenly you’re alone with your reflection and a handful of torment that feels more like a death sentence than swimwear. Because here they were, those high-waisted bottoms out to mock you from where they dangled in your grip, and you remember clicking “X-Large” with such confidence weeks ago. Back when denial was easier, when the numbers on the scale were just numbers, not a fucking verdict ready to lock you away for life.

Of course, you avoid the mirror’s accusatory stare at all costs, stripping down and stepping into the bottoms. That’s when the elastic catches at your thighs, requiring an ungraceful shimmy and tug that was leaving you breathless with shame. When they finally settle at your waist—or what should be your waist—the fabric bites into your soft flesh like teeth.

This was a fucking joke, you thought, the high-waisted design had promised to smooth and flatter, but instead it seemed to create a strange new map of bulges: one above the band where your skin was escaping like dough from a too-tight pan, and another below where the material was supposed to be compressing a stomach in which it couldn’t contain.

The top was worse.

You had ordered it in the same size as always, but “always” was apparently a different body ago. It was confusing… How could the cups gap and overflow at the same time? It was completely unflattering the way it was creating four breasts where there should only be two, and the underwire, fuck, it was already digging trenches into your ribcage while the straps strained against your shoulders, leaving angry red marks that would linger long after you had torn this torture device off your body.

There was hesitation as you turned sideways, and the mirror delivered its cruelest blow yet. It didn’t make sense that fucking roll created by the bottoms had somehow made its own shadow, forming its own presence in the room. Your hands move to adjust, to tuck, to try and trick physics into working in your favor, but there was no hiding what couldn’t be hidden.

And that was the cruelest reality of them all.

That’s when you felt the tears, but you swallowed them down; you knew Harry was waiting just beyond that door, probably scrolling through his phone, completely oblivious to the war being waged in this tiny, tiled battlefield.

So you force yourself to walk out, each step a small act of courage or stupidity—you couldn’t decide which, and you held your breath as Harry’s eyes snapped up from his phone, and just like you predicted, they lit up. But his expression was unreadable through the fog of your own self-loathing, because in that moment you couldn’t see past yourself long enough to truly care. Was it desire that you saw in his eyes? Surprise? Or worse, was it horror masked as polite indifference?

And you stood there, sucking in and lengthening your body like a fucking, side show character, some kind of contortionist, holding your breath, waiting for him to say anything, and all he said was:

“Let me see the one I picked out, yeah?” But his voice was steady, casual, as if you weren’t standing there looking like a sausage casing about to split at the seams.

His words were like a grip around your neck, hanging there like judgment you weren’t ready to face, yet you were already moving, already retreating, ready to be back in the safety of the bathroom before your face could give what his silence had confirmed. He hadn’t said a word—not one fucking word—as you stood there exposed with all your many flaws on full display, and as the quiet stretched between you, it felt like a vicious confirmation, and now he wanted to see more?

For what?

To catalog the disappointments you were sure to bring?

“Right,” You forced, throat already tight. “The one you picked.” You couldn’t even look at him as the words left your mouth, couldn’t bear to see whatever expression he was trying to mask on his face, and as the bathroom door closed behind you, you felt your fate looming over you, like you were sealing yourself into a tomb of your own making.

As you peeled the high-waisted tragedy from your body, it shed like a skin you never wanted, leaving sore red grooves in its wake. More evidence of your delusion, thinking fabric could contain what refused to be tamed, and as your eyes landed on Harry’s selection, a thick triangle that taunted the very concept of coverage, you let out a dry laugh, knowing the bottoms were exactly what you feared: a high-cut “V” that would frame everything wrong, showcase every new dimple and fold you had spent months trying to get used to.

But who were you kidding?

And you step into them with shaky hands and are immediately struck with the understanding that this is worse than before. The thick bands they called sides sat exactly where your body was softest, cutting into flesh that spilled over on either side, and let’s not even get started on the back, which disappeared entirely, swallowed by an ass that had expanded beyond what any amount of elastic could handle, and what killed your soul the most was the fucking front, now dipping low, framing a stomach that wouldn’t lie flat no matter how hard you sucked in, because your ribs could only take so much.

The top itself was a futile practice, completely hopeless.

A thick band of fabric that might have once contained your breasts now strained against flesh that wanted to escape from the stitching. A tube top with no support, now creating new rolls where none existed before, like one big, fat tire, your breasts now becoming one stupid uniboob. And that’s when the tears came. The kind that stole your words and left you in silence, defeated as they slipped down your cheeks in hushed streams, and you forced yourself to turn, to face the mirror that you had allowed to become the enemy.

Who was this person standing before you? When did this happen? When had your body become a battleground for all your mournful thoughts, rather than a vessel inhabited with peace? Because lately, all that seemed to win were the shitty thoughts, arriving like thieves to steal all the joy in your life. Because there was so much joy and happiness, but it was hard for you to remember the not-so-distant past, when this was what you were. You knew deep down that you hadn’t always hated this body or the person you were becoming, but in these moments, it was hard to venture back to a point when you loved yourself, when this, what you saw now, was the version of yourself being reflected back at you.

That’s when your legs gave way, and you sank to the cold tile floor, pulling your knees to your chest in a desperate attempt to disappear, letting the tears fall faster, silent sobs shuddering through your body as you rocked slightly, trying to self-soothe in a moment that felt beyond the grasp of comfort. Time was meaningless, slipping away in an empty frame of mind. You could have been there minutes or hours; you didn’t know, but then you heard the soft knock that pulled you from your spiraling thoughts.

“Love? You alright in there?” Harry called out, his voice muffling through the wooden door, concern evident in his tone.

You don’t even try to answer. How could you when your throat had closed around all the words you’ve been dying to say, to scream out loud, to rid yourself of the pained torment that was holding you captive, because you knew more than anyone how hurtful words could be.

Another knock sounds, this time more insistent. “Babe, you’re worrying me. I’m coming in, okay?”

The door cracks open slowly, and there’s Harry, his face shifting from concern to panic when he takes in the scene unfolding before him, and when you look up your face falls, and you curl into yourself more, embarrassed at the sight of yourself on the floor in his chosen bikini, face streaked with tears you weren’t even trying to hide.

“Oh, baby…” he breathes, then falls to his knees on the ground before you, and he gathers you into his arms without a moment’s hesitation, even when you put up a weak protest. “No, no, darling…none of that. Come here, love, let me hold you for a second.”

“I can’t do this,” you sob into his shirt, breathing him in. “I look disgusting. Everything looks wrong. Everything about me is wrong right now.”

“Stop that nonsense. I’ll have none of that, my love.” And his voice is firm, yet gentle as he presses a kiss to the top of your head. “Let’s just take a second.” He tells you, pulling back enough to cup your face, forcing you to meet his eyes, holding you with that gaze that seemed to keep your whole world. “Come. Stand up with me, darling.”

“Harry, please—”

“Can you just trust me? I promise. I just need to show you something.”

And you give him a silent nod as tears spill over the rims of your eyes. He helps you to your feet and positions you in front of the mirror you’ve been trying to avoid, standing behind you, his chest pressed against your back, and when you try to look away, his gentle hands turn your shoulders to keep you steady.

“Look,” he says softly. “I want you to really look at yourself. Not just at what you think you see, but at what I see.”

“Harry, I am looking. That’s the problem.”

“No, love. You’re looking through cruel eyes. Here, let me show you… let me lend you mine so you can see what I see.” Then his hands slide down your arms as goosebumps rise in their wake.

“You see these arms?” He starts, “These strong, delicate arms. These are the arms that hold me every morning, that pull me closer when you think I’m asleep. Do you know how safe that makes me feel, knowing these are the arms I’ll always choose on any good or bad day.”

And then his hands move to your waist, and you tense, but he holds you there with a gentle grasp. “And, Darling. I don’t even know where to start with this body—” There it is, and like a knee-jerk reaction, you squirm at the mention of the word “body,” but he continues drawing you closer, while planting a kiss on the flesh of your shoulder.

“God, baby… This body—” He breathes into your skin, “This beautiful, soft, perfect body, that fits against mine like it was made just for me. Every curve you’re hating right now? That’s where my hands want to be every time you walk into a room… Every soft spot you’ve been trying to hide? That’s where my mouth is dying to be every time I see even the slightest sliver of skin…”

“Harry—” You whisper at the edge of a sob.

“Give me just a few more seconds, love, I’m not quite finished yet…” And then he’s spinning you gently, hands skimming over your tummy, grazing down to your hips with an adoration you were starting to feel too weak to endure, because how did you get so lucky? How did you deserve such kindness?

Harry doesn’t let your tears of self-pity deter him from his mission to build you up, because that’s what he was doing, and dammit if it wasn’t working, because you believed this man, believed every word falling from his beautiful mouth, even if everything in you wanted to fight it, wanted to crumble to pieces under his touch, and as he shot you a sexy smirk, the one he always gave you when he liked what he saw, he lets out a light laugh, eyes roaming down your body with a new hunger.

“You know… they say to save the best for last, and baby… This ass you’ve been hiding under oversized tees and cozy jumpers—” And you roll your eyes, shaking your head, “Don’t think I hadn’t noticed you hiding this perfect, lush ass. Baby, oh my god, do you even know what this does to me? Do you know how many times I’ve had to think about gravy and grandma toes anytime you bend over in those sexy yoga pants… I’m a fucking animal, I swear?”

Then Harry howls like a dog, making you jump, and playfully wraps his arms around your waist, nuzzling his mouth into your neck, and for the first time since he walked into the bathroom, a small laugh escapes. “You’re just saying that.”

“Am I?” He questions, turning you back to face the mirror, drawing your hips even closer, and you can feel the proof of his words pressing into your ass. “You see, love? This is what you do to me. This is what you’ve been doing to me since you walked out in that first suit.”

“Wait? What? Then why didn’t you say anything?” And the question slips out before you can bite your tongue. “When I came out, you just... stared. I couldn’t even tell what you were thinking…”

You study his reaction in the mirror, watching as a flush creeps into his cheeks, a pure sight, noticeable even from behind. “Honestly?” He asks.

And you turn to face him with a nod, gripping at his shirt to pull him into you, “Because, my love… I was really turned on, and I don’t know, I was trying to be polite, and I don’t know… not objectify you.” Then Harry walks you back until your ass hits the bathroom sink, and there’s absolutely no hiding his arousal now as he pushes his growing bulge into your body, and suddenly the air is shifting, thinning, as you draw in a slow breath, your eyes locking with his… and this was a look you both knew all too well.

“Was trying to fight the chub I was sporting…” He whispers, leaning in to push the words into the shell of your ear, and the words hum down your spine, sending a pulse between your thighs, and all at once, nothing else mattered.

It was like the flip of a switch, and he had you. “Was trying to remember that pawing at you like a greedy pup isn’t kind, when you were clearly uncomfortable, wouldn’t have been very gentlemanly…” He rasps, peppering kisses along your jaw, and you close your eyes with a soft smile, not a tear in sight, and you stood there wondering how this man could make you feel like the sexiest woman alive in only seconds.

As he reaches your mouth, lips parted, head falling back into the hand Harry had just wrapped around the back of your neck, and he breathes the words, “But fuck, baby…” at the edge of your mouth, and you spread your legs, opening up space for him to press in closer. “I nearly lost it…Still might...” He tells you, gently taking the swell of your bottom lip between his teeth, and pulling just enough to draw a dizzying moan from your throat.

That’s when you opened your eyes, watching that boyish grin spread on his face, and your hands found his ass, pulling him into your warm, pulsing center as the room began to buzz with the want that was unfolding between you—the need like a slow simmer, burning just under the surface, and the second his lips pressed to yours, you felt your body growing hot with it. “Harry?” You mumbled against his lips.

“Mmm…” He hums, not wanting to break the kiss, and your hands glide up his body to circle around his neck, fingers already tangling in his hair.

“Harry…” You try again, “I want you to—” But before you can finish the sentence, he pushes his lips to yours, the kiss needy and desperate. His lips move to your cheek, your neck, hands on your waist, greedy and gripping, your flesh plush under his touch, and your eyes are closing, getting lost in the sensation all over again.

“Tell me what you want?” He finally whispers, pressing himself into you, and you graze a hand over the length of him through his sweatpants, watching his pupils expand with a hunger that you, too, could barely contain.

Pleased, by his reaction, you do it again, this time more intentional, your own greed taking way, ready to make him feel as good as he was making you. “I want you to show me what I do to you…”

“Yeah?” he breathes, hands moving to the edge of the counter, gripping as he walls you in, your hand now slipping past the waist of his pants, taking a warm handful of him into your palm with a slow stroke.

“I want to take this to bed, and I don’t want to leave this flat until you’ve shown me all the many ways you love me?”

“God, baby, I love you so much…” He tells you, “If that’s what you need, then you can have whatever you want.”

“Can we start with this?” You ask, hand stroking up and down his shaft with a calm desperation.

It didn’t take long before Harry was moving you both to the bed, pinning you against the mattress. Harry’s body hovered above you, radiating enough heat to pull a bead of sweat from your collarbone within seconds. His eyes flickered over your skin as though memorizing every new line and curve, fingertips slowly following, feathering along the wet sheen that trailed down your sternum and pooled in the hollow valley between your breasts.

There was nothing frantic about the way he undressed you, even as your hands scrambled for leverage, pulling at the hem of his shirt until your knuckles grazed the heated underside of his jaw, making him laugh, the sound softer than a whisper against your ear, and he let you strip him down with shaky hands while his own moved slow, slower than the veil of twilight settling after a storm.

You hadn’t realized how much you missed this—being stripped of all the camouflage, and sinking into the mattress with your legs parted, hips arched and open, so greedy for touch that you didn’t care how desperate it made you seem.

But Harry wore your desperation with a sense of pride—your growing need, your aching want—as he dipped between your legs, leaving a pathway of open-mouthed kisses up the insides of your thighs, pausing only for a moment to breathe you in, shamelessly basking in your scent, and his warm breath fanned over the soft sensitive skin burning for more as he let his tongue trail promises into the crease of your hip. You couldn’t fight the shudder of anticipation, soaking in the affection of his touch with every passing second. That’s when your hands gripped the back of his head, fingers curving through matted curls until he hummed for you, pressing his velvet-wet tongue to that slick place that had been aching for him.

His gaze stayed locked to yours, determined—your body his focal point, his focus fixed on drawing pleasure as you became the axis upon which his whole world spun.

Every flick of his tongue felt like an apology for every mean thing you had ever whispered to yourself, and god it was so good, what you got when you allowed yourself to let go, because you felt it in the way he spent time on you, refusing to move on until you were gasping, legs shaking as you sobbed his name into the air like a fucking prayer, put on this earth for this and this alone, because nobody, not even yourself, had ever made you feel so wanted, you thought as he sucked you through one, then two, slow-burning orgasms, Harry moaning against your pussy as though he needed it, needed you.

You didn’t know how to say thank you except with the trembling kisses you smothered him with as soon as he crawled up your body, blanketing you in heat, as your lips pushed into his damp skin, his salt slick scent filling your senses, egging you on. In that moment, you could barely form words, yet he didn’t seem to need them; he kissed your eyelids, kissed the tears tracking down your cheeks, licked the sweat gathering in the crook of your neck as he pushed out your name over and over, and each time it was like an invocation that stitched you back together each time you wanted to fall apart again.

How could you love someone so much it hurt? You wished there were new words for it, ones that didn’t sound like the thinning, overused phrases that lost their power over time, and yet every time you tried to say something, it snagged on the need inside you, coming out in a moan instead, but Harry seemed to understand the things you couldn’t say—because he said them for you—with his hands, with his hips, with the delicate way he worked himself inside you, inch by slow inch, until you were stretched around him, gasping into his mouth, trying to remember all your senses.

And god, he was so hard, so fucking thick, that you had to squeeze your eyes shut against the stretch. But his hands were there, his thumb caressing soothing circles just above where his cock disappeared inside, while his other hand smoothed your hair from your brow, so tender that you thought you would break all over again.

“Baby, you feel so good…,” he whispered against your ear. “Gunna love you so good, gunna take my time—want to make you feel perfect, can you let me do that?”

All you could do was nod, tears streaming again, his love suddenly overwhelming, but this time there was no shame, just relief as he moved inside you, his hips a slow roll, taking his time, dragging out every sensation until you felt that deepening ache resounding in the pit of your stomach, that knot a gradual coil tightening. Each thrust was like a mantra spilling from your mouths, and every time he bottomed out, you felt yourself shedding all the negative notions of the past, like your body was being rewritten in the curl of his fingers on your waist, and the taste of his tongue in your mouth.

At some point, you stopped keeping track of all the ways he moved you, the ways you moved together, like a sacred dance only the two of you knew. When he brought your knees up, bending you until you were folded under him, nothing about this felt powerless. In fact, it felt safe, like you could finally stop fighting, stop pretending, and just let yourself be loved in all the ways he had promised to love you since that first time he laid you bare, exposing every inch you hated and turning it into a fucking miracle from the universe, a fucking gift he told you.

And now, as your nails streaked marks into his back, teeth grazing his shoulder, you told him—over and over, in every possible arrangement—“don’t stop, Harry,” “more, please,” “I love you, I love you,” until you both were shuddering, chanting one another’s names, your hips moving with a desperation that was as feverish as it was grateful.

He came while he was still inside you, gasping out your name, forehead pressed to yours, and you clenched around him, milking every precious drop, watching his face break with the sweetest pleasure you both could ever give, and there was something holy about it all, about this—about being so wanted by someone that every flaw, every soft and hated bit, had suddenly become sacred in the way he cherished it.

And afterwards, he gathered you to his chest, arms wrapped around you so tight the sweat from your bodies glued you both together, one big sticky, sweet mess as the pounding of two hearts tried to catch up with the moment, and you let yourself be held, not hiding, not wanting to squirm away from his touch, not flinching at the feel of skin on skin, just letting the quiet take shape around you.

“I love you,” you breathed out, when your lungs finally let you speak, and Harry pushed a kiss to your forehead, letting you know then he would never let you forget it.

Neither of you moved, and you lay there, your mind finally at peace, pressed to his body, self-doubt a million miles away. Eventually, you turned to look at him, cheek smooshed into his inked skin, and said, “Do you want to go to the beach tomorrow?”

And he laughed, his chest vibrating with the effort. “Only if you wear the suit I picked.”

You rolled your eyes, “You’ll have to give me a couple more rounds of that before I can even think of putting that suit back on…” And you lift your head, moving closer to his mouth.

“God, baby. That’s all I ever want.” He answers, meeting your lips with a kiss, “Whatever you want, it’s yours.”

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shra-vasti · 1 day ago

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SIM JAEYUN & HIS RUNAWAY RAPUNZEL

• SYNOPSIS: You had the habit of running away when things overwhelmed you. Jake had a way of always being there to catch you before you fall. Somewhere between stolen glances, half-spoken words and moments that almost meant something, you fell in love. So, you did what you knew the best, you ran. Away from your feelings, away from him. But now you're back, still utterly in love. And he's still the same, still steady, still yours in a way that doesn't count. Except now, there's someone standing on the place where you once stood.

• PAIRING: Sim Jaeyun x afab!reader

• WORD COUNT: 19.2k

• CONTENT TAGS: Non idol au, childhood best friends to ?, reader has long hair.

• WARNING TAGS: MDNI, smut, oral (fem receiving), dub con, intoxication, unprotected sex (pls wrap it before you tap it), lots of guilt.

• AUTHOR'S NOTE: Heya! Missed me? Hope you guys will enjoy! Happy reading♡♡

The country welcomed you back with open arms, you set your foot on familiar ground. Your first breath back home carried a whisper of the past, and it sounded just like him. Jake. The boy who carried you home in his arms on prom night. The night where you abandoned everything behind only to trip over your escape and land in his story. He wasn't supposed to stay but he did. In all the ways that mattered but not in the ways that you wanted.

You weren't trapped in a tower, just a suffocating gym full of unnecessary decorations, harsh lightning, over the top laughter and last minute choices. So, as the plot of your life demanded, you did what any unhinged fairytale princess would do.

You ran.

The music inside the gym was too loud, and not in a fun way, but the I-can't-think-over-the-beat-of-the-music kind of way. You were enjoying the night initially, clicking pictures with your friends, laughing obnoxiously at every stupid thing like this was your last chance at being happy, drinking mocktails and dancing like the universe had pressed a pause button just for this moment.

One moment you were having the time of your life, the next moment your dress started to feel too tight at the ribs. Everyone was enjoying their night but it all started feeling like too much. You dramatically pushed open the side door of the gym, the kind no one really uses because its creaking sound made goosebumps crawl on your skin. Your heels clicked against the tiles of the school's empty hallway as you exhaled deeply. Hands raising up to undo your updo, it has started to give you a headache. You put the bobby pins inside your gown's pocket, hair now loose and you flicked them back as they fell on your face.

Your steps were rushed, more quicker than you meant, mind set only on getting outside, breathing real air, and tearing off the god awful heels that had been punishing you all night. Your head was hung low, eyes focused on your hands grabbing onto the fabric of the gown to walk better when you lost your balance by bumping against something. Or someone.

The sudden jolt knocked the air out of your chest, and you lost your balance, the sound of your heel giving up was louder than your surprised gasp. But before your night could get any worse than this, two hands gripped your waist, pulling you closer in the heat of the moment. Your hands settled against the person's shoulder in a frail attempt at stabilizing yourself.

For a moment, everything stilled. You could feel the fingers tighten a bit at your sides before your eyes met him, like he was making sure this moment was real. Your heart beat loudly in your chest and with the little amount of space you had in between you, there was no doubt that he could feel it too.

"Easy, Rapunzel." His lips curled into a smirk, his voice dripping with amusement, "I don't know why you're running away, but I got you." You broke out of the trance the stupidly gorgeous man in front of you had trapped you in. You pulled back, stepping away to continue your way when you were yanked back by your hair. You hissed, hands reaching up to hold the area that stung, turning around slightly to find some of your hair tangled in his shirt button.

His eyes widened, hands fumbling against his button to free your hair. You stepped closer, removing his hands gently. "Let me," your fingers moved carefully, occasionally brushing against his chest. His breath hitched, but neither of you dared to break the moment.

"All done," your voice trembled at the end. You gave him a tight smile, stepping back only to stumble again when your heel completely gave up and your ankle twisted a little. His hands reached out for you again, this time he grabbed your hand instead before crouching down to inspect your leg.

"Okay, I need you to sit down somewhere first," he looked up at you, hands on your ankle and you nodded. He gently unbuckled the heel and slid it off, his hands lingering as he checked for any injury. You winced as soon as your foot met the floor, the discomfort undeniable. He noticed the flicker of pain in your eyes as you tried to stand, "don't move," he said, standing up and carefully lifting you in his arms to look for a place to sit.

"What are you doing?" You hissed, eyes darting towards your surroundings to check if anyone noticed. "Taking you somewhere comfortable, Rapunzel." He stepped out of the school and towards the parking area, casually adjusting you in his arms as if you weighed nothing. You could clearly see the small freckles under his eyes from up close. You looked away.

"Why do you keep calling me Rapunzel?" You questioned as he put you down to sit on small stairs that led up the parking lot. He huffed out a breath, removing his blazer and undoing the top two buttons of his shirt. He rested his hands on his hips as he looked at you, "well for starters you look like a princess," your eyes widened, heat creeping on your face and he stuttered, realizing the weight of his words.

"What I mean is," he started, the tip of his ears turning red as he struggled to explain, "your long hair, purple gown, the dramatic exit from the prom, should I keep going?" You rolled your eyes, biting back a smile. Then you pondered over his words, eyes falling down on your gown, the lavender satin dress with sheer tulle overlay shining softly under the moonlight. "Okay okay, I get it. I was having a moment, but don't romanticize my downfall like that!"

He laughed, turning his head towards the school's entrance before his eyes locked into you, with a mischievous smile he sat in front of you, hands on your knees, "sorry, but if you're gonna stumble into my arms in a gown, I have to romanticize it." The subtle emphasis on the word 'have' didn't go unnoticed by you. "Where do you live? Let me drop you home, you clearly cannot walk." You took a moment to think, realizing that your parents won't be able to pick you up since they were busy, and you didn't want to ruin your friend's night, you agreed with him.

He carried you bridal style, your high heels dangling from his hand which supported the back of your thighs. "Why are you out here though? Shouldn't you be enjoying the prom night?" You felt him shrug, lips forming a pout, "my date ditched me." Your mouth fell open at his words, but you quickly closed up, "that is so sad." His eyes found yours and he just smiled, "nah, it's fine. I wasn't interested in her, we just agreed to go with each other since both of us didn't have any dates."

"What's your name?" His eyes widened in disbelief, lips parting slightly, "you don't know me?" You arch your eyebrows, wondering if you were meant to know him, but when he called your name in mild offense, you gulped. "Well of course you wouldn't know me, you seem to be content with that little friend circle of yours to notice anyone else." There was a tinge of disappointment in his voice but you could be wrong, "I'm Sim Jaeyun, or Jake as other's call me."

"Ah, Jake. The golden boy?" He narrowed his eyes at you, "you remember me as a golden boy but not my face?" You smiled sheepishly, hands tightening around his neck to steady yourself, "well you aren't wearing your glasses, your hair is parted, you're not wearing your signature oversized hoodie, and half of your face isn't drowned by a book, so not my fault."

He let out a chuckle at your words, shaking his head, "isn't this like, one of those book moments where I take off my glasses, do my hair, wear a nice outfit and suddenly I'm not invisible anymore?"

"No. You look cute with those glasses, but without them you look like someone who'd steal a crown, flirt his way out of trouble and still get the girl somehow."

"Did you just compare me to Flynn Rider?"

"Well you compared me to Rapunzel."

It was supposed to be nothing, just a kind soul helping you in a time of distress, a one time thing. But somehow, it wasn't. You shared each other's numbers after that, then coffee, then late night walks and the rest is history. His friends became your friends. It was easy being with him, he was the kind of person who never made you second guess his intentions. Always so attentive, always so caring. He made it far too easy to fall, and your heart wasn't built strong enough to resist his softness.

You left for university after high-school graduation. He ran to the airport and hugged you like he wouldn't see you again. You promised each other you'd keep in touch. You did. Well, sort of.

And now, years later, you're back, in a different city than your hometown. You had informed your parents about the job you got at a city more opportunistic than yours, how the pay and standard of living was something you didn't want to compromise. "I'll just be a few hours away, mom. You can visit me whenever you like." That didn't stop a pout forming on your mom's face.

The ringing of your phone pulled you out of your thoughts. You glanced at the screen, Mom, you smiled picking up the phone.

"Hey!" You said, trying to keep your voice steady. The boxes were still unopened, your shoes were still on. "Did you reach safely?" Her voice was laced with concern, and you sighed closing the door of your apartment behind you.

"Yeah, just got in a few minutes back." You replied, sitting on your plastic covered couch. "Okay! Be safe." You nodded even though she couldn't see you, "yeah, yeah. I'll call you or dad if anything happens!" You chuckled, pulling your phone away from your ears, "No don't call us." Your eyes narrowed at her words, feeling slightly offensive, "and here I thought you cared about me."

"I do. But we still live away from you. Call Jake instead, he will run to you in no time." Your eyes widened, and you choked on the air as soon as his name left your mom's mouth, "Jake? Sim Jake? Why would I call him?" You could practically imagine your mom rolling her eyes just by the way a sigh left her lips, "why wouldn't you? Isn't he your best friend?"

"He is, or was...I don't know...I don't want to bother him," you hissed, standing up from the couch and moving towards your bedroom balcony. "You will never be a bother for him," now it was your turn to roll your eyes, "I haven't talked with him in ages. I don't know how he will feel about me returning."

"He will be thrilled." You frowned at your phone as if you were on FaceTime with your mother, "how would you even know?" You heard her mutter something under her breath before she deadpanned, "how do you think we found an apartment for you when we never went to that city?" Oh you were doomed from the beginning.

You were about to whine to her about doing things without your knowledge when your doorbell rang, increasing your heartbeat in the process, "that must be him, I informed him about your arrival too." Great. You hung up the phone and hastily made your way towards your door. Your hand hesitated before turning the knob, for a second you wondered if you'll be able to face him after all this time.

The door opened with a barely there creak, and there he was, Jake. His hair was a little long, shoulders a little broad, but his eyes still held the same softness it did, his lips still curled around the edges with the same warmth. And before you could stop yourself, your feet moved.

Your hands wrapped around his neck, pulling him closer. You felt his breath hitch right against the crook of your neck, followed by a slow, hesitant drag of his hands around your waist to pull you closer. You closed your eyes, burying your head on his shoulder, all it took was one look at him for your feelings to come crashing down at you like water released from a dam, sudden and impossible to stop.

You pulled away from him, barely. He smiled, the same boyish smile that made you realize how deep you had fallen for him. "Hey!" There was a quiet tremble in his voice, almost like he wanted to say more but decided against it. You smiled, "Hi," and it felt like you were back in high school, saying goodbye without ever saying what you actually wanted to.

"Um..." your brows creased a bit as you stepped away from Jake, he smiled awkwardly and moved aside to reveal a girl behind him, holding a few bags in her hands as she fidgeted in her place. "This is Mina," Jake said quickly, "she volunteered to help unpack, I hope you don't mind. We can leave if it's too much for you. I know how much new people overwhelm you."

You looked at Jake for a second before they landed on Mina, her hair tied up in a casual bun, her tank top loose and tucked into her jeans. She looked pretty, the kind of pretty that didn't take much effort to maintain.

She took a step forward, now standing right in front of you and pushed the bags in your hand with a smile on her face, "I hope you're not allergic to Thai food." You blinked, "what?"

She looked at Jake briefly as you took the bags from her hands then back at you, "we bought dinner."

"Oh?" You nodded quickly, stepping aside to let them in, "please come in." You internally winced at how awkward you sounded but you didn't fret over it, you weren't prepared for any of this anyway.

Jake walked into your apartment like it's his second home, even when this wasn't your hometown. Mina followed his lead, eyes roaming around the unopened boxes and bubble wrapped furniture lying around. Jake turned around, smiling at her softly before his eyes found yours, "Mina, this is-"

"I know," she grins, cutting him off, turning her head towards you as you approached them, "you're the best friend. Jake never shuts up about you." Your heart skipped at her words, but you nodded, forcing a smile, "It's nice to meet you."

"I was almost out of the apartment to come here when Mina stopped me," Jake started. Mina rolled her eyes then smiled at you, "I just thought you won't mind an extra hand at helping. I was free, and I understand how much effort moving in requires." Jake shrugged, nudging her by his elbow, "the food was her idea," he smiled.

"That's really sweet of you," you thanked, your eyes darted between them as Mina sighed in relief at your words, at the way she leaned in towards Jake, at the way he didn't seem to notice the action. They looked comfortable beside each other, too comfortable. It was almost like she had been around him long enough to matter.

"Let's get started with unpacking," you nodded your head at Jake, and three of you made your way towards different areas to unpack. You made your way towards the bedroom, while Jake took charge of the living room and Mina headed towards the kitchen. For a while soft music from Jake's playlist echoed throughout your apartment along with occasional hum of Mina's gentle voice whenever any of her favorite songs played.

You didn't pay attention to the time that had passed since you started unpacking but the sound of laughter resonating in your apartment made you step out of your bedroom. Your eyes fell upon your living room, all of the things placed just as you informed Jake to do. It looked beautiful.

You made your way towards the kitchen where the voices came from, steps halting as you saw Mina and Jake laughing together at something stupid, "Jake, there's no such thing as proper technique for opening jars." His eyes trailed over her figure, "there is! It's called 'proper wrist torque,' it is a thing!"

Mina rolled her eyes, swatting his arm, "stop being dramatic, let me do my work!" Jake grinned back like he always did when someone got annoyed with his antics. You hovered near the kitchen door, watching the way they interacted with each other, they looked good together.

"Need help?" You asked, finally stepping in. Jake's smile widened as he looked at you, "yes, Mina thinks I'm lying about the proper wrist torque, tell her about it." Mina giggled before you could say anything further, "he's just flexing because I couldn't open the jar. Don't fret over it." You managed to smile at them, "looks like you guys have it figured already."

After a few hours, you groaned lightly stretching your back after you were done with unpacking and cleaning, "seriously guys," you started smiling at Mina and Jake, "thank you so much for helping with unpacking, it would have taken me forever to do this alone." Mina grinned at your pouty expression and made her way towards you, slinging her arm around your shoulders, "I know right! Call me whenever you want any help, I'm so glad to have a girlfriend around me," she squealed excitedly but looked at you expectantly at the last sentence.

"I'm glad to have you around too, Mina." Her face lit up at your words and she beamed at Jake, "I made a new friend!" You couldn't help the smile forming on your face at her excited state and Jake shook his head looking at both of you softly. "I'll go get some ice-cream for all of us after I throw this trash out, you guys wrap everything up and reheat the food in the meantime." Both of you nodded at Jake, bidding him goodbye and continuing your work in silence.

You and Mina slouched against your couch after finishing your wrap up, you played a random movie on your TV as you waited for Jake to come back. You sighed, feeling exhaustion take over you after a long day of travel and moving in. Mina looked at you from where she was sitting beside you and smiled, extending her hand towards you and holding your wrist gently, "you okay?"

Her concerned voice got you out of your thoughts and you smiled at her, albeit a weak one, "yeah, just tired." She hummed, nodding her head in understanding. A couple of minutes passed by in silence, none of you making a move to fill the empty void then suddenly her voice echoed in your ears, "you know he always talks about you, and I got really curious because of him."

You glanced at her, "Jake?" She nodded, releasing her hold on your wrist and tucking her knees up, "yes, he really missed you while you were away." You heart tugged at her words but you masked it with a laugh, "hmm he's clingy like that." She shook her head, smiling down at her lap but didn't correct you because it was the truth. Jake was clingy, but not with everyone, then her eyes landed on you as you bit your lips, a knowing smile creeping up on her face, "that's Jake for you."

The doorbell rang just as you were done reheating the food, "I'll open it!" Mina yelled out before making her way towards the door. "Come on, I'm hungry and I need sleep too," you heard Jake yell as he made his way towards the dinning table in the kitchen, Mina following suit. Three of you ate in silence, finally realizing how hungry you actually were. Jake was scrolling through his spotify playlist after berating both your and Mina's taste in music.

Mina reached over towards Jake's and stole a piece from his plate. Jake didn't blink, didn't even react as he kept his eyes on his phone. "That was mine," He deadpan as he glanced at Mina briefly. "You'll survive," she shot back, chewing on her food like it was just another day, like they have done this before, like they have their own rhythm.

Mina turned towards you as all of you finished eating your meals, "I hope today wasn't awkward for you, I really enjoyed your company." Your eyes fell upon Jake who was looking at Mina then you smiled at her, "It's fine really. Thank you for the food and your help. I truly appreciate it." She turned towards Jake and put her head on his shoulder as she sighed in relief at your words.

You smiled at Jake but your heart stuttered, you wanted to ask 'are you two dating?' but the words got stuck between your throat. Instead you just bid them goodnight and watch them get inside the car and drive off.

"It's been a while, I missed you so much," Jungwon's arms circled around your shoulders as soon as he and Jake arrived at your apartment. You laughed, sliding your arms around his waist nonetheless, "I missed you too." He sat on your couch as Jake made his way towards your kitchen to grab some drinks and you sat beside Jungwon asking about his life updates.

"I heard from Jake you'll be moving away to Japan for a while?" Jungwon nodded his head, hands reaching out to grab the drink Jake bought. "I just came and you're going," you pouted, Jake chuckled from your other side, head leaning on your shoulder to look at Jungwon. You felt a quiet thrill bloom inside your chest and Jungwon gave you a cheeky smile before Jake spoke, "It's okay, it will be for 3-4 months, then we can have our little friend group back."

"And Mina too," Jungwon added, a small smile gracing up on his lips, "have you met Mina yet?" You nodded, "she helped me with the unpacking and also bought me food, I should bring something for her as a thank you." Jake handed you the drink, your fingers brushing against his as you took it from him. "Have you met Heeseung?" Your eyes narrowed at Jungwon, confusion dawning on your face, "isn't he studying law in London?"

"No, he's here. He wanted to do business instead so he left and came here." You hummed, placing your drink down on the table, "you didn't tell me about him." You turned towards Jake after you pulled away from him and he just shrugged like it wasn't a big deal, "you never asked." Jungwon snickered as you glared at Jake, feeling his heart filled with warmth at the familiar scene playing in front of him, "I missed you two together so bad."

You smiled at Jungwon, ruffling his hair, "and I missed you." Jungwon pouted, fixing his hair. "I need to leave, I've to pick up Mina from her work," your gaze followed Jake as he grabbed his things, a weird coil building inside your stomach at the thought of him picking her up from the work. "Jake!" Jungwon called out as Jake opened the door to go out, he spun back, raising his eyebrows at the younger one, "I parceled the documents which Mina wanted on your address, tell me when she'll get it."

Jake nodded his head and then the door shut behind him, "Mina's documents?" You questioned, turning in your seat to face Jungwon, "why didn't you just parcel it to Mina's house?" He tilted his head in confusion, "because they live together." You could feel your heart stop as soon as those words left Jungwon's mouth, "live together?" He hummed in response, "yes, didn't Jake tell you?" No he didn't, you wanted to say instead you shook your head and smiled, "the topic never came up." That explained the closeness.

You sat on your bed, looking at the time, 06:30 PM. Jake had called you when you were on your lunch break that he wanted to invite you for dinner and after trying to dodge his invitation a couple of times, you reluctantly agreed. You sighed, contemplating whether it will be a good idea or not but you found yourself getting ready to go to his apartment.

It was past 07:00 PM when you made your way towards his apartment complex, you decided to walk since he lived only a few blocks away. The evening sky had darkened, streetlights lightening up the path you walked on. You sighed when you spotted the name of the apartment building Jake had mentioned, your eyes unintentionally fell upon the balcony with floor length window, with lights low and golden, you spotted Jake through the open blind and your steps flattered.

You watched as Jake sat on the chair near the window, a slight wince adorning his face. Hoodie sleeves pushed up and hair slightly messy. Mina came up and sat in front of him, on the floor, cross legged, a small box in her hand. She reached up to take one of Jake's hands in hers, opening the box and taking out some ointment and bandages.

You swallow the lump forming in your throat as you stood there and watch as Mina carefully applied the bandage and flick his forehead when he leaned down. You couldn't hear their conversation but you saw Jake smiling at Mina who was pouting. Jake reached forward to flick her forehead back but she caught his hand midair. She said something which made Jake shake his head and lean away, inspecting his hand.

Mina gently took his hand in hers, she talked about something you couldn't decipher and Jake just watched her with his soft eyes. You froze in your spot, feeling like you've seen something you shouldn't have, something intimate. You felt like you should turn around, almost. But then you took a deep breath and made your way towards their apartment.

"Finally, we have been waiting for you." Mina welcomed wrapping her arms around, as soon as you took off your jacket and hung it on the hanger. She took the bag from your hand and made her way inside their kitchen, running past Jake who made his way towards the living room. You slipped off your shoes, smiling at him, "Hey!" You started making your ways towards the couch.

Jake stepped forward, his arms sliding across your waist to pull you closer and dip his head on your shoulder. You inhaled sharply before easing into his hold and sliding your hands across his shoulders. "Hey..." you heard him breathe out, voice low enough for your ears only. He let go of you with a lopsided smile, holding your hand in his as he dragged you towards the couch.

"What happened to your hand?" You questioned as you sat on one side of the couch, beside Jake. His eyes travelled towards his now bandaged hand, "he cut it while helping me with the dinner, he's so irresponsible." Mina sat on the other side of Jake, and he rolled his eyes but leaned back on the couch. "You should be careful," you frowned and Jake slid his hand behind your shoulders to rest on the couch. "It's fine, not that deep."

Mina leaned towards Jake, her hand reaching out to hold his injured one, examining if it was properly bandaged. "You don't have to keep doing that," Jake said, amusement laced in his voice as he watched her. "You don't take care of yourself properly," she mumbled, and your chest tightened at her words.

"Um..you guys start the movie, I need to make a call, be right back." You watched as Mina went inside the bedroom, the door opened wide enough for you to spot Jake's favorite artist's poster plastered across his walls, then it closed behind her. You sighed, watching her be so comfortable around Jake, being so comfortable about using his belongings as if they were hers, it almost reminded you of your younger self when you and Jake were close enough to use each other's things without any care. It suddenly dawned upon you how many things you missed while being away from him.

Your gaze was still fixed on Jake's bedroom door, lost in thought when you felt his hand gently cup your cheek. He turned your face towards him, his movements gentle but sure, silently asking for your attention. "You good? Need something?" Your words got lost in your mouth as you looked into his eyes, he tilted his head, waiting for you to say something but his hand felt so warm against your cheek that you found yourself leaning into it.

Jake smiled, his hand moving from your cheek to your shoulder to pull you closer, "guess your work tired you out," you hummed, still unable to form any words. He then slid his fingers in yours, intertwining them together before giving your hand a gentle squeeze. Mina came back after sometime, slumping against the couch before sighing and leaning her head on his shoulder.

He adjusted his position so she could lean into him properly, his hand still holding yours but suddenly you felt suffocating. Half way through the movie, Mina whispered something to Jake and he laughed, shaking his head as he whispered something back. You could hear them if you focused enough but you decided otherwise. It felt more like trespassing than eavesdropping. Jake's hand left yours to offer you some popcorn, your fingers brushed against his as he passed you the bowl but you pulled back, eyes trained on the movie playing in front of you.

"Jake help me with serving the dinner," Mina requested as she made her way towards the kitchen. Jake followed soon, but you stayed behind, eyes still focused on the TV. You could hear them from the living room, their voices low, you could hear the way Mina complained about something, followed by his voice. Mina laughed after that, loud and clear and you could hear Jake shushing her as he too laughed with her.

You heard the clink of dishes being placed on the counter, you turned your head to see if they were done, just to see Jake gently patting her head as he passed by her, and how she smiled up at him like it's the easiest thing in the world. You reminded yourself that it shouldn't hurt, but it did. It really, really did. And you weren't sure what to do with your feelings.

The rest of the hours pass by in blurry haze, your eyes fall upon the clock, "oh? It's getting late. I should head back." You felt Mina grab your hand when you tried to get up from your seat, "stay the night, I like having you around, it's weekend anyway." Your eyes fell upon Jake who leaned against the doorframe, "stay?" You couldn't bring yourself to reject their offer when both of them looked at you with the same puppy eyes.

"Let me get something comfortable for you to wear," Mina grinned as she disappeared inside her room. Jake tapped your shoulder, "thank you for staying, Mina keeps on talking about you. I think you'd get along well since you're so alike." You nodded, "I feel so too, it will take some time but I'll get used to her." He smiled, leaning his hand on your shoulder. "Does she treat you right?" You couldn't help but ask, you heard Jake hum, "yes she does, I never thought I'd say this but we work well somehow."

You forced yourself to smile, Mina came out of her room just to drag you inside it, not before yelling, "goodnight Jake, it's girls night now." She gave you a hoodie and shorts and pointed towards the bathroom attached to her room. You cleaned yourself up, Mina following suit, while she used the bathroom, you changed your clothes.

Mina came out of the bathroom, now changed into her own pajamas, "this hoodie is a bit too oversized for you, don't you think?" You questioned, laughing at the way it covered your hands and reached your mid-thigh as you climbed her bed. Mina laughed with you and made her way to sit beside you, "it looks good on you." You shook your head, dangling the sweater paws in the air and Mina leaned on your shoulder laughing at your actions, "It's Jake's actually, that's why it's oversized."

You froze, "It's Jake's?" She nodded, her smile flattering a bit, "why? Is that an issue?" You shook your head, your brows creasing, "that wouldn't be an issue with you right?" She tilted her head in confusion and your heart squeezed at the familiar action, "no? It's not an issue with me." You sighed, if she didn't have an issue then you weren't going to have any issue.

"Wait!" Mina squealed, reaching towards the nightstand as you pulled up the covers to sleep. "What? You okay?" You asked, feeling concerned. She turned towards you, showing her phone, "I don't have your number or a picture for the contact pic, let me snap it real quick, you look so pretty right now." Your eyes widened as she panned the camera towards you, leaning towards her vanity mirror to check yourself, you smooth down your hair and adjusted the hoodie.

"Smile for me please?" She requested in a sing-song voice and you couldn't help but smile genuinely as she clicked a few pictures as you posed. "Let me take your pictures too," you reached for your phone and clicked some of her photos. "Okay! Let's take some together," you grinned, taking selfies with different poses and laughing obnoxiously at them.

You look at her as she saved your number and the contact pic, her hair a bit messy with all the movements, but a radiant smile plastered on her face as she proudly showed you the contact. And as you watch her, you realise Mina is too good, too perfect. You couldn't bring yourself to find a single flaw. Maybe Jake was indeed right when he said they both work together very well.

You woke up, rubbing the sleep from your eyes. Mina's side of bed was empty, you neatly made her bed and went inside the bathroom to get freshened up. You brushed your teeth and took a quick shower before slipping into your own clothes. You neared the door of her bedroom when you heard hushed voices coming from the living room.

"You could've just told me about it, Mina." Jake's voice echoed, "it's not that simple!" Mina's voice snapped back. "This is not about you Jake- everything isn't that simple!" There's a silence followed by Mina's words. You opened the door just as Jake turned around and went inside his room, slamming the door shut and Mina looked at you, a concerned expression plastered on her face.

"You okay?" You questioned, stepping towards her and pulling her into a hug. You felt her stiffen under your hold but then she relaxed, hugging you back. "Yeah, I am." You frowned, "did you two fight?" She pulled away shaking her head, "he's just concerned." She smiled, eyes trailing towards Jake's door, "I think he needs someone to talk to, he isolates himself when he gets like this. I need to go out for a bit. It's urgent. Please talk to him." You nodded your head at her and watched her rush out of the door.

You stood outside Jake's room for a second longer than you should have, hand curled into a loose fist, your knuckles ready to knock. You took a deep breath and knocked. The silence followed made you wonder if he'll even open the door. "What?" You could hear the bite in his voice and for a moment it made you stutter but then you answered, "Jake, it's me." There's a faint ruffle of movements from the other side and then the door's yanked opened and you find Jake looking at you, wide eyed. "Can I come inside?"

Jake nodded, stepping aside to let you in. You stepped in quietly, heart in your throat. He didn't say anything as he made his way towards his bed and sat. You sat on his desk chair, eyes raking over his messy hair as if he had been running his hands through it. "You and Mina....are you okay?" You started carefully and he let out a short laugh, "I don't know." You made your way towards his bed to sit down on the floor in front of him, "Mina said you might need someone to talk to."

"She said that?" He looked at where you were sitting, you nodded. "Of course she did." You sighed, feeling frustration radiate off of him, "I don't really know why you guys are fighting but it will get better." He pulled his hair, groaning, "I hope so." You didn't make any other attempt to talk with him, so you both sat there in silence for a while. "Come sit beside me," he finally said, patting the space beside him. You hesitated for a moment before carefully sitting beside him.

"Can we just stay like this for a while?" He asked, shifting in his place before he placed his head on your shoulder. You took a deep breath and your heart beat stuttered at his actions, he's close, he's too close for your heart to not ache with longing. You don't dare to say anything, just reach out to hold his injured hand in yours, "it will get better, I'm here."

"You good?" You were bought back from your thoughts when your coworker Jay called your name. You nodded your head back as you handed him the documents which he wanted. He gave you another look, eyebrows creasing, "you're spacing a lot, are you still not used to the office life here?" You smiled at him, shaking your head, "I love working here, there's just something on my mind."

He tapped his finger on his chin as he swirled in his chair beside you, "if you feel comfortable, you can share it with me, you're the only person here that I like to hang around with," you laughed but agreed with him. Jay joined a few months before you did and the two of you are the only people of your age, making him instantly take a liking to you. "Okay, maybe you could help," you thought out loud and he waited patiently.

"So, there's this boy-"

"A boy? Interesting." You looked at him from the corner of your eyes, "don't interrupt me." He put his hands up in surrender, then leaned up to check if any higher ups were taking a round, "tell me." You sighed, leaning against your chair, "I have feelings for this guy I've been friends with, I went out of the country for university and now that I'm back, he already has someone."

"That's-" he looks at you briefly before averting his eyes somewhere else, trying to find the right words to say, "that's very sad, are you trying to move on?" You pout at him as you lean against your desk, "I don't know, I thought my feelings for him vanished but it didn't. And they look so good together, they even live together." Jay patted your back in an attempt to console you, "it will be alright." You gently hit your head against the desk, "will it really be alright?"

Jay gave you a solemn smile, "with time it gets better." You sighed, mind swirling with everything that had happened ever since you came back, "they had a fight but then next day everything was fine between them. I think they patched things up, I just want him to be happy." You wondered if not saying anything at all will ever do you any good but when Jake called you next day to inform that everything is settled between them you stopped yourself from saying anything further. "Whatever, Mina said she'll help me with my groceries so I need to go."

You bid Jay goodbye and made your way towards the store Mina had sent the address to, you remember her gushing about them selling the groceries more fresher than other stores. You smiled, waving your hand as you called out her name, she turned around, running towards you and engulfing you in a hug. "Okay let's shop." You followed her lead, "Mina," you called out as both of you were picking up items listed on your phone, she hummed in response, "can I ask you something?"

"Yes, ask me anything." She grinned as she pushed the cart towards the cash counter when her phone lit up with multiple notifications. "You and Jake," you collected your groceries in the bag, "how long have you been together?" Mina hurriedly replied before placing her phone back in her pocket, "hmm? almost 3 years." You nod, taking the bags from the counter and make your way towards your car. "Three years is a long time, so even if you guys do fight, it ends up fine right?"

She glanced at you, helping you keep the bag in the backseat of your car, "I mean yes, it isn't like this is our first fight. We handle it very well." You hum in acknowledgement, three years, no wonder they get along so well. Mina nudged you playfully as you got lost in your head, "you good?" You laugh with all your teeth, "totally." Mina doesn't question you further, both of you sit inside your car and you drive off to drop Mina before going home.

You felt your phone ring when you were about to go to sleep, switching the lamp on, you answered the call, "Jake?" You heard some mixed voices from the other side before it got silent, "why didn't you take me with you for grocery shopping?" You frowned as you heard Jake whine, "she suggested me, I would've went with you if you suggested first."

"Mina this is not fair, you are literally plotting to replace me from her life." You heard Jake accuse and Mina shot back, "I'm not doing that, don't accuse me of things I didn't do." You laughed at their bickering but stopped when you heard Mina's phone ringing followed by a complete silence. "You need to spend time with me too!"

"Yes, Jake. I will, where did Mina go?" You could picture Jake pouting as he let out a huff, "I don't know, she's always on her phone these days, barely spends time with me." You nodded, your mind drifting towards the countless times Mina's phone rang. You figured it wouldn't be Jake since he was working overtime, that made you question who's taking Mina's attention so much.

"It's okay," you consoled, talking with him for a few more minutes and hung up. It was a long week ahead but you were looking forward to the weekend, maybe you'd be able to relax a bit and explore the city more. Your phone buzzed with a notification and you looked at the screen to see a text message from Mina. 'Don't mind him, he's just dramatic. I won't mind ditching him for you.' You laughed before sending her a reply and drifting off to sleep.

"Jay, don't worry about it. You'll do great," you were on a call with Jay, trying to encourage him for his upcoming presentation. "Figured you'd say this but you were just like this last week when it was your turn." You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose, "yes that's exactly why I'm telling you not to worry. The clients are very easy going, I have worked with them on a short project." Jay sighed, probably pacing around his room, "okay, I believe you." You smiled, "good, now go to sleep."

You hung up the call and changed into an oversized t-shirt and shorts when you heard it, a faint tap. You frown, halting your actions, then you hear it again, a little bit clearer this time, a little sharper. Your stomach flips when you realise the sounds are coming from the window, you gulped, slowly making your way towards it when you hear another tap. You wipe the sweat formed on your hand on your shorts and move aside the curtain to check.

And there he is. Jake. Standing below your window like it's not a big deal. You open the window, disbelief written all over your face. He smiled up at you before yelling, "Rapunzel, let your hair down." You closed your eyes to prevent saying anything harsh, your mind still hazy with confusion, "I'm not letting my hair down, what are you even trying to do?" He laughed at your words, and you found yourself staring at him, with hoodie half-zipped, hair messy due to wind, one hand still clutching a small pebble in his hand but he's grinning like he had won a lottery.

"Your window is closer than your phone, I tried calling you but it kept saying you were busy." You stared at him, "it's almost midnight." He nodded, "I couldn't sleep." You shut your mouth after that, knowing all too well how he used to reach out to you whenever he had a struggle sleeping. And just as you were about to yell at him that you'll unlock the door, he started climbing.

"Wait-Jake? No! What the hell are you trying to do?" He gripped the drain pipe with one hand as his other helped in hoisting himself up, "will you chill?" He muttered, swinging one leg over the windowsill and slipping into your room with a soft thud. You stepped back instinctively, "are you being serious?" You crossed your arms across your chest, "This isn't high school, I live alone now, why would you climb through my window?"

He dusted his hands, slipping his shoes off and running off to keep them on the shoe cabinet near the entrance. He comes back, taking a look at your room like he hasn't seen it before. "Nice bed sheet," he smirked, clearly avoiding answering your previous question. "Nice trespassing," you retorted, which made him laugh. He shrugged his shoulders, slipping off his hoodie, now wearing only a t-shirt, he made his way towards your bed and sat leaning against the headboard, like it's his.

"I didn't want to be alone," he confessed, his voice quieter than before, "this was the only place I could think of to come, didn't know where else to go." Your heart tugged at the way his shoulders dropped as he talked, you nodded your head as you sat on the edge of your bed, "where's Mina?" He looked at you, his lips pouting a bit, "she's out I guess, told me she'd be busy."

Jake didn't say anything for a while, just removed his watch, wallet and phone and kept it on your nightstand and laid down on your bed. You stayed where you were, now cross legged as you sat there and watched him without really meaning to. "Did you ever think about me when you were away?" He questioned, his voice low. You glanced at him before focusing your gaze on your lap, "always."

He looked at you, eyes following the way your hands fidgeted, "Did you ever think about us?" You tilt your head up and he was already looking at you, "of course I did. You're my best friend, without you it felt a bit empty." He shifted in his place, smiling at your words, "it's kind of wild right, how we managed to live our lives without each other, all the time that passed, all the chances we missed."

You don't answer him, too scared that your voice may betray you, too scared that your feelings would be overwhelmed if you dwell on that topic any more. Jake exhaled a deep breath, slowly reaching his hand towards you, fingers open, palm up. "Come here." Your heart stuttered, but you didn't say anything. You don't ask why, you force yourself to not overthink about it or try to find meaning behind his actions. You just take his hand, get up and lie down beside him, being careful of the distance. Almost touching, always almost.

Jake cleared his throat, and you huff out a breath, staring at the ceiling. "Still can't sleep?" You ask, head turning towards him as he keeps on staring at the ceiling. "Not really," Jake mumbled, turning his body towards you. "What are you thinking about?" You mumbled, not daring to ruin the moment, he stayed quiet for a second, "nothing in particular, just how things have been lately." You nod, looking away, heart hammering in your chest as you force yourself to sleep.

You're not sure why you asked Mina to meet today, but here she is, sitting in front of you in a cozy cafe she mentioned she wanted to take you to. You watch her sipping her drink, eyes focused on the foam, smiling in a way someone does when their mind is floating in the cloud. "Can I share something with you?" Mina's voice brought you back from your thoughts. "Hm? Tell me," you smiled, sipping on your coffee as you waited for her.

"Heeseung asked me if I wanted to go to the open mic tonight," she started, glancing at you occasionally, "have you met Heeseung yet?" You shook your head no, "I met him in the passing, didn't get a proper chance to talk to him." Mina hummed, "do you think I should go?" You tilt your head, thinking about it, "is Jake going with you?"

"No, he is working overtime yet again. He wouldn't be interested anyway." You hummed, leaning your head on your palm, "then you should go." She smiled at you, a little giddy, a little nervous, "do you remember the dress I wore at Jungwon's party? The red one?" You nodded your head, "yeah, I remember. You looked great in that." Mina sat up straight, placing both her hands on the table, "you think so?" She giggled then her phone's notification went off and you frowned.

"Jake's really been on the edge lately..." Mina started, making you confused, "why?" You questioned. "He's been kind of very protective of me lately," she looked out the cafe as if she's thinking about something, "I think he is worried." You sit straight, clearing your throat, "why would he be worried? Is everything fine between you two?" She sipped her drink, "everything is fine between us, I guess he doesn't want me to get hurt."

You don't reply to her, focusing all of your attention on finishing your drink. Of course Jake would be protective of her, he has every right to. Maybe he thinks with you in the picture Mina might get hurt because both of you share past memories which she wasn't a part of. You swallow the lump in your throat, "are you planning on going to that music fest you were gushing about?" And just like that the topic of the conversation shifted.

You were excited to spend your Friday night watching reruns of your favorite show. You showered, changing into your pajamas and arranging your pillows to maximise your comfort when your phone rang, disrupting your peace. You groan, looking at the screen. Jake. "What are you doing?" You frowned before answering, "nothing, why?" There was a beat of silence before he spoke again, "can you come over?"

"Mina told me you both were planning on going out to eat, why are you calling me?" You heard Jake sigh dramatically, "can't I call my best friend to hangout with?" You rolled your eyes but stood up to get dressed regardless, "I'll be there in few." You hung up the call, getting ready to go to him. You internally thanked yourself that you didn't cook anything.

You reached his apartment, ringing the doorbell, you waited for him. Jake opened the door, and you stepped in, frowning a bit when he didn't step aside. His hands reached up to take your bag off your shoulder and help you with your jacket. You slipped off your shoes as he hung your jacket, "why's your apartment so dark?" You questioned and instead of answering, he stepped closer, embracing you in his arms. Your arms circled around his neck despite confusion creeping up on you because of his actions.

He held your hand and made his way towards his bedroom, and you followed him mindlessly. He left your hand as he opened the door of his balcony and your steps halted. "Jake-" you couldn't bring yourself to continue what you were about to say. In front of you was a cozy dinner date set up, with candles and roses perched upon the table. Fairy lighting was hanging up from the ceiling, casting a warm glow on your face.

You swallowed, eyes roaming around the small set up before they landed on Jake, "where's Mina?" You asked, noticing her absence in the apartment. Jake's smile flattered but he masked it just a quickly, "she's busy, something came up so she isn't here." You nodded, making your way towards the set up as he pulled out a chair for you. He had planned a date with Mina but since she couldn't make it, he called you. Your heart tightened at the thought but you understood. With the amount of effort and money spent on this, you'd have done the same.

Both of you ate the dinner in silence aside from occasionally discussing how amazing the food was. And you found your thoughts drifting off to how lucky Mina is to be able to experience this with him. But you wondered what could be more important than spending time with your boyfriend on a weekend.

You offered to do the dishes while Jake cleaned the table, "Jake, there's stain on my shirt, can you give me a clean shirt?" Jake threw one of his t-shirt at you when you made your way towards his bathroom to get changed. "Put your shirt in the laundry, I'll return it to you tomorrow," Jake yelled as you closed the door behind you.

You changed into his t-shirt, the scent of his detergent along with a quiet musky smell, mixed with something sweet but so Jake engulfed you. You sighed, feeling your heartbeat quickened but you made your way out of his bathroom and towards their washing machine. You threw your shirt in the basket, crouching down to pick up a grey hoodie that fell off.

The strong scent of cedarwood and leather hit your nose, a contrast to what you were used to smelling around Jake and Mina. You frowned but tossed the hoodie back inside the basket. You made your way towards the living room where Jake was, "did you change your perfume? Or use an alternate one?" You asked, leaning against the back of the couch.

"No? I only use the one which I'm wearing right now," you hummed, heading swirling with confusion, "why?" Jake asked as he looked at you. "Nothing. Just asking," you shrugged, "let's watch a movie?" He nodded, selecting the movie of your choice as he sat beside you. Hours passed by, the clock struck past 12, the ending credits rolled out but Mina still didn't show up.

"I think I should go," Jake turned around to protest when the door clicked open, "thanks for having me today Jake, but I need to run some errand tomorrow early morning, it will be better if I'll go." You made your way towards the door to see Mina slipping off her heels, still in her work attire. "Hi babe!" She squealed as soon as she spotted you. You smiled, greeting her in return, then she made her way towards the living room before turning back to you, "had fun on your little date?" She giggled and you followed her inside the kitchen, leaving Jake sitting alone in the living room.

"Where were you?" You asked and she put the glass of water on the counter, "working, you know how bosses can be." She pouted, her shoulders slouched. You nodded your head, "I was just heading out, good night and rest well okay?" She nodded, opening her arms for you to hug and you chuckled, stepping closer to engulf her in a hug. "Good night babe," she mumbled, nuzzling her head at the crook of your neck. As soon as her hands wrapped around you, the strong cedarwood smell mixed with leather hit you again and you stiffened in her hold.

"Mina," you called out, pulling a bit away from her, "were you working late alone?" She shook her head, "yes, that's the reason it took so much time to finish." You took a deep breath, stepping away from her, "I see, I'll meet you tomorrow." You bid Jake goodbye and made your way out of their apartment before your mind ate you up again, trying to read into things.

You made your way out of the elevator of your apartment after a hectic day at work, grimacing when you opened the door just thinking about making dinner. You came out of the shower, still feeling the tiredness seeping deep in your bones, you decided making ramyeon would be the best option. Just as you were about to head to the kitchen, your phone rang.

"Open the window, Rapunzel." Your eyes widened as you rushed to open the window and lo and behold, there he was, balancing himself and giving you a shit eating grin as soon as his feet landed on your bedroom. "Why can't you knock on my door like a normal person?" You pushed his shoulder, "where's the fun in that? Plus I bought food, let's eat." Your eyes finally landed on the bag of food in his hands, "how did you even manage to climb up with this in your hand?"

You followed him towards your kitchen, and started plating the door as he went ahead to slip off his shoes and clean himself up. "You're been coming here way too much," you squint your eyes at Jake who just scratched the back of his head, laughing awkwardly, "why? Do you not like my company?" He was amused as both of you sat down to eat, "it's not that, earlier you and Mina always visited together, I thought you both would continue to do so, it's slightly surprising she isn't around as much as she used to."

Jake's smile flattered a bit, but he shook his head. "She's too busy these days, things are not how they used to be," then his eyes found yours, "you don't find me annoying right? I can totally stop coming here if you want more alone time." Your chest tightens at his words and you reach out to gently squeeze his hand in yours, "why would you say that? If I did find you annoying, you'd be the first person to read into my actions."

Jake laughed, nodding in agreement, because yes, he was someone who could read you the easiest and that's why he was confused as to why you were behaving so distantly with him than you used to, almost like you were slipping away. "My door's always open for you, Jake." He looked at you for a second before his hand turned up to hold yours, "I know."

You sighed as both of you continued to eat the dinner in silence, Mina was spending less time in their apartment, she always bailed out of the plans last minute leaving you and Jake alone. Always so busy, always texting on her phone, you wondered if there was someone who was occupying her time. And somehow you couldn't forget about the scent of different cologne on that grey hoodie and on Mina when you had dinner with Jake, that night.

It was late at night, you had completed all of your chores and were snuggled up on your bed. The series you've been meaning to watch played in front of you, sighing you looked at the time then back towards your laptop screen. "What am I waiting for?" You wondered out loud as you focused your attention back on the screen. Your eyes kept on drifting towards your phone, groaning you closed the laptop and decided to sleep instead.

It was the weekend, after all these months you finally got the time to have a weekend all to yourself, without Jake, without Mina, without Jay, just you. But somewhere along the way, you started getting used to having them around, especially on weekends. You had no idea where Mina was, and Jake had informed you he'd be out with his coworkers. You huffed a breath, pulling the covers over your head and closing your eyes.

The shrill of your callertune in the otherwise silent room woke you up from your slumber, patting your bed to find your phone, you opened one eye to realize it was Jake. You sat up, looking at the time, it was way almost midnight. You picked up the phone, voice still groggy from the sleep, "hello? Jake?" You called out, you could hear faint music coming from the background yet no one spoke then just as you decided to call his name once again, a voice rang, "um hi, this is Sunoo, Jake's coworker."

"Sunoo? Um where's Jake?" You could hear rustling from the other end, followed by a loud huff and then Sunoo's voice spoke, "Jake's passed out beside me, can you pick him up? I'll send you the location." You got up from your bed, already rummaging through your closet for your jeans and t-shirt, "Passed out? Gosh, why does he drink so much when he knows he can't handle it. I'll be there as soon as possible, send me the location. Thank you." You hung up the phone, grabbing your keys to get down into your car and your phone screen lit up with a text message from Jake.

You reached the location, eyes wandering around to find Jake and his friends. You called Jake's phone to inform Sunoo about your arrival and he yelled your name when he spotted you near the entrance. "Geez, he isn't even sitting straight," you complained as Sunoo gave you Jake's phone and helped you to carry him till your car. "I tried calling Mina, but she wasn't picking up her phone so I called you instead. I'm sorry if I ruined your night but my house is too far to take him with me."

"It's okay, Sunoo. I'll handle him. Thanks for taking care of him for the meantime. I wasn't really doing anything so it's fine with me," you gave his shoulder a small squeeze in reassurance and got inside the car to drive Jake back to his apartment. You glanced at him as he slept on the passenger's seat, his brows furrowed as if he'd been stressed about something. You sighed, pulling up inside his parking lot.

"Jake! Wake up," you shook him as you opened his side of the door, "I can't carry you till your apartment, you need to at least be awake, come on." You took off his seatbelt, and he stirred a bit. You sighed in relief and pulled him out of the car, locking it behind you. He draped his hand on your shoulder, leaning all of his weight on you, which made you stumble a bit. "Give me strength!" You muttered under your breath as one of your hands slid across his waist to help him walk.

The walk from parking lot to elevator and then from elevator till his apartment door was more difficult than you imagined. But you managed anyway, you unlocked the door, internally congratulating yourself for being smart enough to get his keys before you pulled him out of the car. The apartment was dark, with no sign of life. You switched it on and dragged Jake towards his bedroom.

"Wow, that was one hell of a struggle," you wiped the sweat off of your forehead after you laid him on his bed. You slipped off his shoes and put in the box where he keeps his collection, took off his jacket and accessories he wore and pulled the covers on him. Hesitantly, you leaned in, lifting your hand to his forehead, fingers brushing along the crease between his brows, like you could smooth it out, like you could understand the reason behind it. He looked so far away, and you weren’t sure if you were allowed to reach him.

You pulled back, getting up from the bed to leave his apartment. "Where are you going?" Your steps halted and you turned around, "to Mina's room?" You mumbled to yourself, confused, you stepped forward, checking if he was sleep-talking. You raised your eyebrows as his half lidded eyes stared back at you, "I thought you were asleep." Jake grinned lazily before a frown adorned his features, "why do you always leave me?" He sat up, eyes glossy and his cheeks flushed.

"Huh?" You sat in front of him as a tear slipped from his, your hand reached up to wipe it and he leaned into it. He sighed, lips trembling, "things are not how they used to be." Your breath hitched as you remembered him saying those exact words when both of you ate dinner a few weeks ago. They weren't for you, he said those words for Mina. Your eyes landed on his intoxicated self, eyes closed as he nuzzled closer to your hand. He wasn't talking to you, he was thinking about Mina instead.

You pulled away, hands trembling as you clutched your chest to ease the pain. Jake frowned as soon as you pulled away, he reached up, grabbing your neck to pull you closer, "you're doing it again, did I do something wrong? Did I hurt you baby?" Your breath hitched, hands falling on his chest to support yourself. Your nose brushed against his and the smell of alcohol brought you back to your senses. "Jake, you're drunk, what are you doing?"

He whined, tilting his head and leaning closer to trail his lips against your jaw. "I'm not drunk," he sighed against your skin, placing a kiss on your jaw. You closed your eyes, biting your lips and pushed him a little. "Jake please," your voice stuttered as he trailed kisses down your neck, the hand on your neck making your head tilt up and pull at your shirt's collar, another sliding across your waist to pull you closer.

"Do you even realise how much I missed you?" He murmured against your shoulder before sucking on it. "I love you but you keep on pushing me away," he licked the spot which now adorned a purple bruise. You closed your eyes, I love you he said, yet he didn't have you in his mind. His hand slides down to tug at your shirt's button to get more access to your skin, fingers working efficiently to yank it open. "Jake, no!" Your eyes opened in shock and you grabbed his hands, standing up hurriedly to leave his room. You entered his kitchen, switched on the lights and opened his refrigerator to find something to drink.

"I'm too sober for this shit," you mumbled, finding a few bottles of soju, grabbing one and opening it to chug it down. The liquid spilled off your mouth as you drank and it slid down your chest, staining your disheveled shirt. You put the now empty bottle in the trash bin, wiping the soju off your chin. You leaned against the counter, trying to shake off the ghost of Jake's lips on your skin. You made your way towards Mina's room, deciding to at least create distance between you and Jake since you didn't want to leave him alone in the apartment fully intoxicated.

Your steps flattered as you reached for the doorknob of Mina's room, vision titling due to your careless movements. One hand gripped the cool metal while the other reached up to steady the dizziness clouding your head. You barely managed to take a breath when you felt a hand grab your shoulder to turn you around and push you against the door. Your hand slid off the knob, breath shallow as you stared up at Jake, pulse buzzing inside your veins.

The cold wood pressed up against your spine as Jake closed the distance between your bodies, one hand sliding up to the wall beside your head, the other pressing against your stomach just to drag them towards your side. You winced slightly when his fingers dug in your skin, he leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss on your cheek. His head dropped on your shoulder, and you heard a quiet whimper escape his lips before his body started trembling against yours as he sobbed.

"I'm so sorry," he cried, hands clutching the fabric of your shirt, "Jake? Why are you crying?" You questioned as you rubbed his back to console him. "I don't know where I went wrong," your stomach churned with the way his voice cracked. He pulled away and you wiped the tears that flowed down his cheeks. His hands lifted up to cup your face, cheeks flushed red and eyes glassy as he looked at you. "My baby," he whispered, dipping his head low to capture your lips in between his.

You gasp against his lips, and he took it as an opportunity to deepen the kiss, tilting his head to the side. Your hands grab his shoulders, to support yourself or to push him away, you can't figure out because your brain isn't cooperating with your body. The soju you drank hums low in your veins, your limbs feeling heavier and your thoughts lighter.

He pulled away to catch his breath, your nails dug on his shoulder as you tried to gather your thoughts, "you're drunk." His lips part, and you blink up at him, his name's the only thing echoing in your brain. "So are you," he smirked, eyes darting towards your lips, "but both of us aren't drunk enough to imagine this, are we?" And the way he said those words, mixed with the way his eyes were locked into you as if you're the only thing that mattered made you do something which sober you would definitely regret.

Your hands reached up, fingers brushing against his jaw, you pulled him towards you, grounding both of you into the moment. His hands settled on your waist, and your spine arched against the door. The soju in your body made you aware of every little thing that happened, the way he leaned his to connect his lips to yours, his breath against your mouth, the slight trembled in your chest, the way his hands bunched up the fabric of your shirt, everything.

"I love you," he confessed, like it pained him to not say it out loud, he bent down, breaking his kiss and carried you towards his bedroom. You couldn't think of anything else other than his intoxicating scent. You wrapped your hands around his neck as he laid you down on his bed, hovering above you. "I hope you'll forgive me, cause I can't stop. Please, I need you." He kissed you again, his hands working on your shirt's button, this time though, you don't stop him. Your hands instead tug at the hem of his t-shirt and he broke the kiss, pulling his t-shirt over his head and throwing it away without a care.

He stayed like that for a while, kneeling between your spread legs, chest heaving, mouth parted and eyes focused solely on you. His hands traced your thighs, slow and deliberate like he had all the time in the world, and you shivered, suddenly feeling overwhelmed by this gaze. His hands slide up, now lurking dangerously near the waistband of your pants, eyes a little glassy but still focused on you.

You lift your hips off of the bed, and he took it as a sign to slide your pants down alone with your panties. Your thighs closed around his hips as the cool air brushed against your wet folds, Jake frowned, fingers digging on your thighs as he dragged them till your knees to open them wider, "don't you dare to hide away from me." He grabbed one of your legs, hoisting it over his shoulder, kissing your ankle but never his eyes off you. You gulped, fisting the sheets. "So beautiful," he breathed, laying down on his stomach, one leg still perched over his shoulder, the other pinned down by his hand.

His lips travelled down from your stomach, trailing kisses and bite marks across as he dipped lower and lower. He kissed your inner thigh before he pulled his tongue out to drag it against your slit. Your hips jolted with his sudden movements, hands instinctively reaching down to grab his hair, "Jake." He hummed against your pussy, sending vibration against it. Your toes dug onto his back as you moaned, back arching against the bed.

He continued to lap at your core like he couldn't stop, his movements a little messy but eager. You bit your lips to suppress your moans and he reached out one of his hands to grab your chin, "wanna hear you make those pretty sounds baby." He then rested his hand against your stomach and pin you in place as he resumed his actions. "You taste so sweet baby, could stay here for hours," he smirked against your pussy, sucking on you and smiling as your moans got louder. His nose brushed against your clit, "fuck, Jake," you cried, head thrown back, "feels so good."

"Yeah?" He questioned, now rubbing your clit in circular motions as he continued to lick on your pussy. Your body jolted with the added pressure on your clit, a tight knot forming in your stomach, "Jake, I think-" you moaned, unable to express yourself with how good he made you feel, "I'm gonna cum." He nodded, never stopping his actions even when his hair stung from where you were pulling them. Your orgasm washed over you like a tidal wave, sudden and all consuming and he pulled away after he made sure there was nothing left to waste.

He climbed up, your hands reaching up to wipe the cum that stained his chin. He laughed at your actions, then dipped his head to capture your lips in a kiss, making you taste yourself. You dragged your hands down his chest towards the button of his pants, pulling it open, he stood up to remove his pants and boxers and come back towards you.

A sigh left your lips as you cupped his face to pull him closer, his hands slid behind your back to unclasp the hook of your bra. His other hand pulled one of the bra straps off your shoulder, then removed the piece of clothing fully from your body.

"Fuck, why are you so beautiful?" He wondered, nibbling one of your nipples while his other hand squeezed the neglected one. He took notice of your blissed out state and adjusted a little to position the tip of his cock against your entrance. You gasped at the contact, gripping his arms to anchor yourself. He shifted his attention on your other boob, lips wrapping around the sensitive bud as he pushed it slowly. "Need you to relax for me," he muttered, looking down to where both of you were connected, "yeah?" He looked back up at your face and you nodded, once he felt your body relax, he slowly pushed more, half moaning, half groaning at the way your walls sucked him in. He nuzzled his head on your shoulder once he bottomed out, resisting the urge to move.

"Shit, you're so warm and so tight." He groaned, kissing your neck to distract his thoughts, "tell me when you're ready." You nodded against his shoulder, getting overwhelmed by how full you felt. "Jake," you whispered, voice trembling, "move please." He perched himself on his elbows, kissing your forehead once before leaning his forehead against it. He sighed, pulling out till only the tip of his cock was buried in you, biting his lips, he slammed right in. "Jake, shit." You moaned, the friction of his cock against your walls too good to handle.

He rocked his hips against yours, finding his rhythm. Your breath got caught in your throat, a startled gasp leaving your lips as he picked up his pace. He moaned loudly when he felt your clenching around him, again and again, sucking him right in. His fingers dug against your hips as he sat straight, lifting and angling your hips in order to thrust into you more deeply. Your eyes rolled back, fingers grasping for his hands as the new angle. "Baby, you feel so good, so good I can't stop," he whimpered, head clouded with the thoughts of chasing both of your releases.

One of his hands slid down to rub circles around your clit, overstimulating your breast sensitive bud. "Jake, I'm close again," your tears fell down your cheeks, the sight making Jake's hips tremble. "Me too baby, fuck you look so beautiful right now, wish I could take a picture," his words made you clenched around his harder and without warning, you felt your orgasm wash over you, soaking his lower abdomen a bit as you trembled in his hold. He followed soon after, ropes of cum spilling inside you, hot and warm, his movements slowed enough and then he stopped completely.

He dropped his weight on you, still buried deep inside you. Jake's breath evened out, too tired to move, his eyes fluttered close. And you don't remember when your own tiredness washed over you, pulling you back into slumber, too blissed out to mull over the consequences of your actions.

You groaned slightly when you heard the ringtone of your phone. Your hands reached out towards the sound, patting the bed till it reached your phone. You squint your eyes, adjusting towards the brightness, the call went off. The silence that followed after that was more deafening than any sound, you felt a weight half draped at your side, you could feel another heart beating against your skin. You sucked in a breath, slowly removing yourself away from Jake's hold. Your phone rang again, you lowered the volume and looked back to see Jake was still deep in sleep.

You threw Jake's t-shirt over your head, shutting his bedroom door behind, you picked up the phone, making your way inside Mina's room for privacy. "Hello?" You cleared your throat, "Hey! I'm so sorry I had to call you this late, you must've been asleep," Mina's cheerful voice rang on the other end of the call. "Wow you're really cheerful for someone who should be asleep," you mumbled, rubbing your eyes. You heard a distant voice coming from her end, a call of her name, followed by Mina's awkward laugh.

"Umm...yeah....uh....I just saw multiple calls from Jake on my phone, it was on silent so I couldn't attend it, he puts his phone on vibration mode while sleeping so I knew it would be useless to call him so I called you instead, did you get any calls from him?" You sighed, eyes falling on the faint imprints of Jake's fingers on your thighs. "You there?" Mina asked nervously. "Yeah, he passed out so I brought him back to the apartment," your hands dug into her mattress as you waited for her to say something.

"Oh my god! He can get reckless sometimes, though I'm glad you are there to take care of him, I can sleep well knowing he's safe in your care," the relief in her voice made your heart ache with something you couldn't name, but you hummed in response, "where are you?" You heard her take a deep breath, "my friend's house." You sighed but didn't question her further, "friend?" You reached up to massage your temple, "yeah, Suzy." You frowned, paying attention to the background, you remember watching Suzy's snapchat stories, she isn't even in the city. "Okay, take care." You hung up the phone.

Your mind went back to the voice that called out Mina's name, the voice was soft yet deep and it was crystal clear that it belonged to a man. Mina was in Suzy's house, she lives alone and is dating a girl, so why is there a man? Did Jake figure that out? Was he upset and drank too much because he found out what Mina was upto? Did he drink too much because he realized Mina was slipping away from him and would eventually leave him?

All of this made you feel more guilty than you previously did, especially after you let your emotions get the best out of you and you took advantage of his vulnerable state. God, how desperate could you get?

You buried your head on your hand, heart racing as fear creeped inside you, how will Jake react when he wakes up? What will be the fate of your friendship after this? You felt angry at yourself for giving in so easily, Mina was cheating on Jake, and he got drunk and you stupidly took advantage of that situation to fulfill your own desires. You weren't sure if you'd be able to see yourself in the mirror feeling ashamed.

You got up, quietly making your way back inside Jake's room, he was still sleeping, lips parted as he snored softly, you sighed in relief and gathered your clothes. Heading towards his bathroom, you cleaned yourself and got dressed. You washed your face, making sure there weren't any signs that would indicate something happened between you both. You gathered Jake's clothes, throwing his pants and t-shirt in the laundry basket.

Now you just need to clean him and make him wear his boxers but you weren't sure how deep it was in his sleep. Still you made your way towards the bed, and he shifted to lay on his back. You held your breath, waiting to see if he would wake up but when he gave no sign of consciousness, you sighed. Taking the warm cloth, you removed the covers from his body to clean him as much as you could, starting from his mouth, then his hands and finally his lower body. You were glad you didn't leave any marks on him. You put the cloth away, adjusting him a little and made him wear his boxers.

You wiped the sweat formed on your head and neck, and stepped away after making sure there all the things were placed as they were before you two got intimate and then made your way out of his room. Checking the time, you made your way out of his apartment and into your car. You trembled as soon as your hands fell on the steering wheel, legs bouncing in nervousness, but you took a few deep breaths and pulled out of the parking lot and towards your apartment.

First thing you did after you entered your apartment was to brush your teeth then throw your clothes in the laundry and take a warm shower to calm yourself. Dressing yourself in a fresh pair of clothes, and laying on your bed, thinking about everything that has happened. You felt your head buzzing, the lack of sleep getting into you, the adrenaline fading away in the safety of your apartment. Your last thought before you drifted off to sleep was whether Jake will forgive you after what happened, because Jake may call you his Rapunzel, but she wasn't a homewrecker like you at least.

You groaned, stirring in your sleep as you sat up to find your phone, grabbing it to see it had a missed call from Jake. Your eyes widened, realising that he would have been awake by now. You were contemplating whether you should call him back when your screen lit up with his name again. "Shit," you bit your nails but picked up the call anyway.

"Where are you?" His voice was sharp, and you winced thinking of the right words to say, "um, my apartment." You heard him suck in a breath, "come to my apartment, need to talk to you." Sweat formed on your palms at the tone of his voice but you found yourself agreeing to come nonetheless.

You hesitated before pressing his doorbell, he opened the door as if he was waiting for you to ring it. You smiled awkwardly and entered the apartment with tentative steps and he closed the door, walking past you to head towards the kitchen. You followed him, sitting on the high stool beside the counter, you waited for him to speak. You observed as he made coffee, his back was turned towards you, shoulder stiffened and a weird tension filled the air around you.

He served you breakfast and the coffee, sitting right in front of you as he made himself comfortable on the other end of the counter. "Why were you at your apartment?" He sipped his coffee, "what type of question is that?" You took a bite of the toast, avoiding his eyes. "Mina called me," he started, briefly glancing your way, "she told me you picked me up from the club." You took a deep breath, "yeah I did-" he put his mug on the counter, "she also told me you were here when she called you early in the morning."

"It's because I was here," you frowned, chill rushing down your veins under his intense eyes, "I had some work, so I left early." He put his hands on the counter, tilting his head at you, "is that so?" You nodded more quickly than you should have, "yes!" He sighed and both of you resumed eating the breakfast. You washed the dishes and he cleaned the counter behind you when he spoke again, "okay, I'll not dance around the topic anymore," he breathed, taking your hand and pulling you towards the living room.

Both of you sat on the couch, with you awkwardly glancing around the room and him focused on you. "Did something happen yesterday?" You turned your head towards him, mouth parting then closing, "um, nothing?" You scratched the back of your ear, "are you sure? Did you put my clothes in the laundry?" Your eyes widened but you shook your head, "do you not remember what happened yesterday?" He leaned against the couch, hands folded across his chest, "what happened?" You gulped, eyes darting towards him and then at the wall behind him, "I picked you up, took off your shoes and jacket, and left to sleep in Mina's room."

"That doesn't explain my clothes in the laundry," he squinted his eyes at you, "I got a call from Mina, since your coworker had initially tried calling her, she asked me about you and everything, after that I came in your room to check on you and your clothes were pooled beside the bed so I put them in the laundry." Your words were frantic, but you hoped he'd take a bait and not question you further.

He looked at you for a few seconds longer, eyes losing their sharpness, he took a shallow breath, clasping his hands together as he looked at you, "are you sure nothing happened between us?" You bit your lips out of nervousness, "us? No, why would you think that?" The corner of his lips twitched, eyes turning glassy but he quickly looked away, taking a deep breath, "okay, if you say so," he picked up the TV remote, "I think I dreamed something which I shouldn't have, it felt too real to be a dream though, but now after talking with you I'm glad to know I didn't do anything I'll regret."

You nodded your head in understanding, turning around to face the TV but your mind was far away, Jake's 'I'm glad to know I didn't do anything I'll regret' rang loudly in your ears. So he thinks being with you is something he will regret. It stung more than you had anticipated, but you knew this would happen. He wasn't yours to begin with.

You sat beside him, laughing at the jokes he tried to crack and comment he made about the scenes but you could hear your heart tearing apart with each passing second. The pain in your chest was suffocating, you needed to distance yourself from him to mend your heart, because you didn't trust yourself around him anymore.

"Are things not going well with you and Mina?" You questioned after the movie ended and all there left was silence in the room. Jake flinched slightly, not expecting you to say anything, "um you could say that." He sighed, leaning against the couch, "we've been fighting a lot, which is stupid because we always solve it as soon as possible." He rubbed his temple, "I'll talk with her when she'll be back." You nodded, slumping against the couch, of course he would try to mend their relationship, they have been with each other for so long.

Your phone has been ringing non stop for the past 10 minutes and you sat on your bed, leaning against the headboard. Your eyes were trained on the way your phone's screen lit up every time Jake called but you didn't pick up. After a while, the call stopped, barely before your phone buzzed with a voice note. You reached out, curiosity taking over as you played note.

"Um, I don't know why you're not picking up your phone, I'm getting worried. If I did anything wrong tell me okay? I will make it up to you just like I always have. Please pick up."

Another voice note chimed in, "I had a talk with Mina, everything is fine between us now. We made things up, and cleared every misunderstanding. I was so focused on my feelings that I never sat down and asked her about how she felt. But when she came back that day and we talked properly after such a long time, I finally understood her and I promised to be better from then on."

Your chest tightened at his words, you remembered Mina telling you about how fights aren't a big deal in between them, of course they would solve these issues too. You exhaled a deep breath, but the sting in your eyes was too overwhelming to control. Your breath shuddered and you buried your head in your hands, trembling, as tears ran down your cheeks. You choked a sob, helplessly gripping your bedsheet to ground you. Avoiding your feelings was the biggest mistake you made, if only you confessed before it was too late, if only. You shook your head, tears streaming down your neck, it was too late, too late.

Another notification erupted and you reached for your phone with a trembling hand, another voice note from Jake. You wiped your nose with the tissue before tossing it in the dustbin, you played the note. "Okay, now I'm not worried, I'm stressed and panicking, are you sick? Maybe that's the reason you aren't picking up the phone. But no worries, I'll take care of you well once I reach your apartment. See you soon, Rapunzel."

What? Your eyes widened, Jake's coming to your apartment? All those attempts at avoiding him only brought him closer to you. Wiping your tears you scrambled you make yourself look at least a bit presentable. You panicked, pacing around your living room to think of any excuse to avoid meeting him. You were deep in thought, fingers tightly clutching on your phone like it personally offended you when your doorbell rang. You screamed loudly, not expecting him to arrive so soon.

You put your hands on your mouth when the doorbell rang again, "open the door, I heard screaming!" You grimaced, knowing that he would climb up your window if you didn't open up so you made your way towards the door, anger bubbling up inside your heart. He wasn't even allowing you to break down properly, why did he have to be so present and so doting and so caring that you couldn't even hate him properly?

"Hi, I knew you were home," Jake wiggled his eyebrows as he brushed past you to enter your apartment. "Hello to you too," you said through gritted teeth. He turned around with that sickeningly sweet smile of his, "it seems like you woke up on the wrong side of the bed." You rolled your eyes as he chuckled, placing a bag on your coffee table, "don't give me an attitude, I brought your favorite pastries for you." Sighing you called out his name but he avoided your voice, making his way towards the TV remote.

"I knew you'd get this cranky-" he chuckled, finally finding the remote.

"Jake."

He ignored you, plopping on the couch as if it was a muscle memory, "the pastries will instantly lift up your mood-"

"Jake, listen to me-"

"Don't worry princess, your prince is here to take care of you." He winked at you, switching through movie titles.

"SIM JAEYUN!"

That seems to startle him enough to stop and stare at you, finally paying attention. "Will you listen to me? I'm trying to talk to you and you keep on deflecting!" His eyebrows crease in confusion, worry lacing over his features, "I am listening to you, I'm not deflecting." You scoffed, running a hand through your hair. He got up, making his way towards you. You turned towards him, jabbing your finger in his chest, "you are."

"I always listen to you," He gulped, chest heaving, not entirely sure about your behavior. "Yeah you do," your lips trembled, "but you listen only when you want to." He swallowed, looking away for a second before his eyes found yours again, "that's-," he huffed, "that's not true."

"Stupid," You whispered but he caught your words. He opened his mouth to retort, but before he could say anything, you stepped forward. Your hands reached up to cup his face, and you pulled him towards you, sealing his lips with yours in a gentle kiss. You didn't try to make the kiss anything more than it was, just a firm press of your lips against his but you hoped he would understand what you wanted to tell him.

You pulled away, hands pressing firmly against his chest as you pushed him out of your apartment. "I hope this kiss told you everything that my voice couldn't," you mumbled as you pushed him out of your door, "I don't want to be your friend anymore Jake, it's better if we never meet each other after this." Jake's eyes snapped back into the moment as those words left your mouth, realization creeping in. He opened his mouth to say something when you slammed the door shut.

He rang the doorbell, knocking the door when he didn't hear any sound from your side, "open the door, let's talk, please, let's talk." You slumped against the door, crouching down as tears slipped from your eyes at his desperate plea, "go away Jake, don't make it any harder for me, I beg you, please go away, I'll do something to myself if you don't." He slammed his head against your head, shutting his eyes close as he choked back a sob. He waited for a minute, before nodding his head in agreement, "okay, if that's what you want."

"Wow, you're eating a lot, I didn't know you had it in you," Jungwon laughed at your words, but nodded, "I missed this food, although I love Japan, home is home." You nodded your head in understanding as you continued to eat. Jungwon had called to meet you at a restaurant and even though you were shocked he returned so abruptly, you were glad he called you because you'd started to feel lonely after cutting Jake off.

"This food is actually very good," you mumbled, nodding your head in appreciation, "I've been eating ramen and cereals for the past few weeks aside from occasionally street food." Jungwon's eyebrow furrowed, "why?" You swallowed the food and went to speak when Jungwon continued, "Also I called Jake to meet up but he said he'll be back in a few days, since he went back home." You smiled, though Jungwon noticed it didn't reach your eyes, "I see."

"Did something happen? I also found it weird that both of you didn't go back home together, you always do that right?" You sighed, knowing the truth would eventually surface anyway, "we had something happen between us, so I broke off our friendship." Jungwon's eyes widened and he choked on his food. You rubbed his back, letting him calm down before you passed him a glass of water.

"Was the fight that bad?" You nodded your head, slumping back against the chair, "yes, it was for the better anyway." Jungwon pouted, squeezing your hand in reassurance, "well if things are bad enough that you need to break off the friendship then you'll be glad to hear that he won't be anywhere near you now." Your eyebrows creased, "what? Why?" Jungwon sighed, "figured you wouldn't know, Jake is moving."

"Why's he moving?" You questioned, feeling your heart race and throat tightened, Jungwon gave you a confused look, "well because of the engagement, what else?" You gave him a blank look and he continued, "I came here early from Japan because of it."

You clutched on the hem of your top, engagement? Jake was getting engaged and then he would be moving away? Him and Mina? They had already resolved their issues and finally decided to take their relationship to the next level? Your ears rang loudly, whatever words Jungwon spoke couldn't even reach you. Sighing, you focused on fighting back your tears so you won't cry in the middle of the restaurant.

Your chest tightened, he chose her in the end. You were never the choice anyway, but you were glad Jake at least knew about your feelings and you won't be drowning in the sea of what ifs. You shook your head, trying to focus back on Jungwon, "-I don't know what will happen now though, especially with you and Jake not being friends anymore, plus your friendship with Mina must have also hit the rock."

You nodded, you had ignored Mina as much as you've avoided Jake so you aren't sure where you stand in your friendship with her. And Jake had always been a responsible person, he must've talked with Mina where it went wrong and decided to act accordingly rather than breaking things off. He looked very happy when he visited you that day for it to be otherwise.

"You didn't break things off with Mina right?" Jungwon questioned, "no, I didn't, not officially at least." He nodded, "then you wouldn't mind coming to the engagement party right? For her sake?" He started cautiously, "I mean, if that's okay with you, I know it would be weird for you to go since Jake will also be there-"

"I'll go," you cut him off, breathing in, "I'll go with you." Jungwon smiled at you, holding your hand in assurance, "you're sure?" You smiled back,squeezing his hand. You don't want to go, but you need to do it in order for your heart to move on, this will be your closure, "I'm sure."

You found yourself standing in front of your mirror, dressed in a lavender colored dress and your high heels. You frowned, trying your best to make your hair behave like you wanted. Your phone rang and a small smile graced your lips as you saw Jungwon's name on the screen. "Are you ready?" His voice echoed through the speaker, "yes, I am."

You took a final look at yourself in the mirror, a laugh escaping your throat as you were reminded of the prom night where your and Jake's friendship started. You promised yourself to never forget the moments shared with him, of the way he supported your dreams and how he made you fall in love. You looked down as your feelings overwhelmed but, taking a deep breath, you made your way out of your apartment. The night was young, the moonlight shining above you as you made your way towards Jungwon's car.

"Jungwon!" You called out, slipping inside his car as he closed the door behind you. "You look pretty," he smiled, taking a look at you. "Thank you, Jungwon," you smiled back, adjusting your hair. "Are you sure you want to go? I think Mina will understand if you decide against it, especially since Jake would be there too." You sighed, giving his arm a squeeze, "I'll be fine, don't worry too much."

You took a deep breath as Jungwon started his car, you don't really know how you'll face him, especially what you'll say. 'Congratulations on getting engaged' that sounded so robotic. What else? 'I always knew you two would end up together?' the hell, he will judge you for saying that, especially after you kissed him. "We're here," Jungwon's voice brought you back to the moment and you could feel your heart in your throat. You had to attend in order to move on.

You got out of the car and walked beside Jungwon inside the venue. Your hands trembled as you entered so you clasped them tightly together. Your mind was swirling with thoughts that you didn't even look where you went and you collided with someone, their hands stabilizing you by holding your arms. You felt the strong scent of cedarwood and leather creeped inside your lungs, all too familiar, followed by a soft breathy whisper of your name.

You tilted your head up, recognizing the voice immediately, "Heeseung?" Mina was cheating on Jake with Heeseung? And he's attending their engagement party like it isn't a big deal? He smiled, engulfing you in a hug. "I didn't know we would finally meet like this," He exhaled, hands squeezing your shoulders just the way he always did when you'd stress over your exams and he would give you his notes to make it easier for you.

Heeseung, Jake's closest friend and yours too. The same Heeseung who always scolded you both when you did something wrong. The same Heeseung who was self righteous enough to always solve the exams without cheating. The same Heeseung who couldn't say no to his parents and tried law to make them happy, the same Heeseung who disappointed them and pursued business instead. You couldn't believe he was capable enough to betray Jake by being with Mina behind his back. This had to be a prank.

He said something and excused himself and went away, but you stood there, still in shock. Jungwon nudged you, taking your hand and dragging you towards the drink section. "You stay here, I need to meet someone." He left you alone for a while. You ordered a drink, sipping it leisurely as your eyes scanned the room in search of Jake.

"You came!" You didn't have to turn around to recognize the voice, Mina. She stood in front of you, eyes twinkling in excitement as she hugged you tight. She looked beautiful, more beautiful than you last remember. Well, the saying happiness makes you glow must be right. The ring on her left hand shined brighter but nothing could beat the smile on her face. "I'm so happy to see you here," she pouted.

Mina grabbed both of your hands, giving it a gentle squeeze but all you could feel was how these were the same hands which held both Jake and Heeseung. "I was worried you wouldn't come," she smiled awkwardly, "especially after...you know..." you looked at her confused, heart beating loudly as you waited for her to continue, "...Jake told me everything." If you could dig up a hole and bury yourself right then, you'd have done it. Surely Jake would tell her everything, this was inevitable but how were you supposed to answer her now? That you kissed her fiancee without his consent then broke off your friendship?

Mina noticed the way the color drained away from your face and she stuttered, "shit, I shouldn't have brought up that topic, it must be awkward for you, I'm so sorry." You shook your head, "no don't apologize, this is embarrassing but I'm fine." Mina nodded, "thank you for coming to my engagement party regardless, I've always considered you a good friend of mine."

You smiled at Mina, though you wanted to do nothing more than yell at her for taking Jake's love for granted but the way she looked at you, the way she apologized, maybe she realized the weight of her actions and chose Jake. Mina bid you goodbye when someone called her and you turned back towards the counter to get your drink.

Standing by the counter, with your drink in one hand you realized how complicated your life had become since you came back to the country. You looked at your phone to check any new notifications, sighing when there wasn't any. You groaned, how will it even be possible, all of your friends were currently attending the engagement party, everyone was here.

Your eyes fell upon the stage and your breath got caught in your throat, there he stood, Jake, in his stupid tuxedo, with his stupid smile plastered on his stupid face as he talked with Mina, Heeseung and Jungwon, laughing at something Heeseung said. You watched the way Mina threw her head back laughing, covering her mouth with her diamond ring cladded hand as she hooked her hand in Heeseung's arm. Stupid Jake, can't he see how the two people he trusted the most are betraying him? Couldn't he see the signs right in front of him.

You couldn't bring yourself to watch him be so stupid. Usually you'd have plenty of reasons up your sleeves in order to run away from your problems but today, Jake's stupidity would be the reason for your escape. You sighed, finishing your drink in one go, taking one last glance at the stage, you frown when you noticed Jake's absence. Whatever, the ring on Mina's hand was enough of your closure, you took a deep breath, texting Jungwon that you'd be leaving early, you made your way towards the exit at the back of the venue.

Your heels clicked against the floor, you unlocked your phone to book a cab. You groaned after getting your ride cancelled yet again. Who even decided to throw the party at such a venue? And why are these driver's rejecting you as if you aren't going to pay them? With a frustrating sigh, you slipped your phone inside the pocket of your dress. Stupid drivers, stupid venue, stupid Jake, and stupid feelings, fuck everything.

You stomped your foot in annoyance as you walked and unfortunately you lost your balance as your heel got caught on a cracked space on the floor and broke off. You yelped, losing your balance when two hands gripped your waist, stabilizing you. Grabbing onto the shoulder and blazer of the person, your eyes widened when you realized who caught you. "You have a weird habit of falling right into my arms, Rapunzel."

Right, out of all the people who could've caught you, it had to be Jake. Destiny was playing with your feelings at this point. You couldn't find your voice as you stared at him but then you snapped back, standing up properly. "You're still clumsy, nothing much changed after high school right?" He chuckled and you cursed at your stomach for doing that weird little flip it did whenever you heard his laugh.

You swallowed the lump forming in your throat, "look, I think you should go back inside." He frowned, stepping closer, "why do you want me to go inside?" You clicked your tongue, did he really ask you that? "What do you mean why? Isn't Mina still inside?" You questioned, tilting your head slightly to look at him in the eyes. "What does Mina being inside have anything to do with me being inside? And why shouldn't I be here? Just because you decided to end our friendship, doesn't mean I'll give up on us."

"What are you even saying?" You snapped, crossing your arms across your chest, "what am I saying? I'm your friend after all, right? A petty little thing isn't going to get in our way." You rubbed your head, feeling the headache creeping in, friend? After the kiss you shared, he still had the audacity to say that you two are friends. Was he mocking your feelings?

"Go back inside Jake, I'm tired of this," you mumbled, not having energy to yell at him. He scoffed, digging his hands inside his pockets, "why do you keep telling me to go inside? Mina has her fiancee with her there, she'll do just fine without me. Heeseung is there for her." Your eyes widened, and you could feel your heart drop to your stomach in real time, "what? Heeseung? Mina? Fiancee?" Jake nodded his head, running a hand through his hair in frustration.

"Yes, Heeseung and Mina, he proposed to her after finally getting the courage." Fuck. All the time you thought Mina was cheating on Jake with Heeseung when in reality they were the real couple all along? And when Jungwon mentioned about the engagement, he didn't really mention Heeseung so you assumed it was of Mina and Jake. "So, Mina and Heeseung were dating, and he finally proposed to her?"

"That's exactly what I'm trying to tell you." He threw in hands in exasperation, "Mina had been in love with Heeseung for so long, and he kept on avoiding her because he thought he didn't deserve her after he disappointed his parents, but finally after a long talk, he finally confessed about his feelings and now they are engaged." You were too shocked to even react to his rambling. All these time you thought Mina was dating Jake but it was never the case? Now you sure looked like a fool standing there with all your delusions.

"Are you even listening to me?" His voice rang in your ears but you dip your head low, too embarrassed to even look at him. You internally cringed at yourself for calling him stupid when in reality it was you. "Rapunzel, come on, don't ignore me like that now." He complained, stepping closer, "I'm trying to say something, can you at least pay attention to me?"

He sighed, and you could literally feel the annoyance radiate off of him. "You left me with no choice," you frowned at his words, finally tilting your head up only for him to step closer. His palms cradled your face, you barely had the time you let out a gasp before his lips were on yours, sudden but firm, just like you did.

He pulled away slightly, hands still cupping your face as he mumbled "you weren't listening, I had to do something about it." You felt heat crawl up your face as you looked at him, a simple kiss, yet it spoke so many things your mouths couldn't. He smiled, feeling proud to have your eyes back on him, "see, it worked, now you're paying attention to me."

You didn't speak, too stunned to find your voice. He rolled his eyes, sighing deeply, "come on, don't pretend you didn't get what I wanted to say," his lips curled into his signature smirk as he leaned closer, "even I got the message when you did the same." A tear escaped your eye and he was quick enough to wipe it. "Why are you crying baby?" He mumbled, resting his forehead against yours. "Are you sure about this?" You hiccuped, still trying to wrap your head around the fact that he is standing in front of you, and that he loves you, just like you do.

Jake sighed, tucking your hair behind your ear and tilt your head so he could look into your eyes more clearly, "you don't realize how long I've waited for this, every moment I spent away from you was torture for me. You always have this habit of running away and somehow run into my arms, you think I'd be strong enough to hold you in my arms but I wasn't strong enough to get back up when I fell for you." He kissed your forehead with a shaky breath, "I love you, I've been in love with you ever since you ran straight into my arms at prom night."

"Jake," you whispered, closing the distance between you and easing into his welcoming embrace, "I love you too, always have. I don't mind running away from everyone else if it means I'll run into your arms, I shouldn't have pushed you away." You closed your eyes as more tears pool inside your eyes, Jake dropped his head on your shoulder, rubbing your back to console you as you cried.

You both stayed like that for a while, just basking in each other's presence after years of separation, and yearning. "Why are you moving out?" You questioned after a while, and you could hear Jake exhale a breath. "Well I shared that apartment with Mina because it's rent was too high, so when she started getting serious with Heeseung and decided she would move out soon we got into various arguments over it. But then both of us talked with each other and I decided I would move out too."

A laugh rumbled out of your chest and Jake pulled away from you, disbelief written all over his face, "why are you laughing? I can afford that apartment just fine but why should I live in an apartment made for two people, I don't make reckless financial decisions." You nodded your head, knowing how well off he really is but it's always fun to tease him a bit. "I know, maybe I could move in with you instead?"

His eyes lit up in excitement and he nodded his head, "I would love that, can we do that?" You chuckled and he leaned in as you pressed a kiss against your forehead. "See, you look best when you laugh, my Rapunzel." He crouched down, unbuckling your heels, "what are you doing?" His fingers hooked around the straps of your heels and he leaned down slightly to pick you up in his arms, just like he did at the prom night.

"So the Flynn Rider managed to steal the heart, flirt his way out of trouble and got his girl somehow?" You chuckled, hands wrapping around his neck to steady yourself. He laughed, adjusting you in his arms, "hmm, my runaway Rapunzel, I told you I always got you."

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adrianastrix · 2 days ago

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Oh, dear, @brainscrems sorry for taking so long. I've changed my phone and was having trouble logging in.

Well, the thing about supersaturated solutions (SPECIALLY unstable ones, like water-salt) is that they revert to saturation if you just look at them funnily enough. Even really stable ones, like honey, WILL revert over time. Not really the best material to rub into things.

You could theoretically use just saturated water, but you might run into 2 other problems. The minor one would be the rubbing raising the local temperature and allowing more salt to dissolve, but it would be small potatoes.

The really heavy hitter is that water fully saturated with salt basically can't hold most soaps (themselves salts with sodium as the positive component) without either depositing a fine and irritating layer of salt dust in a surface OR a layer of finely powdered soap (even worse to get rid of). Even soaps without sodium would dissolve less, and I'm not even taking into consideration that this mix has to dissolve the things dirtying the crystal.

And that's all assuming that you will carefully dry ANY SINGLE DROP of cleaning solution once you finish. Because if a thin layer of it is left behind, one of two things will happen, and both have the potential to drive you insane.

Best case scenario, water evaporates and now white-ish spots of the salt are left behind all over your crystal, and the particles are so small that cleaning them is worse than whatever you wanted to clean in the first place (see a pan after you forget water boiling and everything evaporates). Worse case scenario, enough water is left behind that it's now trapped among the salt particles and, instead of a white dry spot, you have a transparent sticky spot that'll never stop being sticky until you heat that bad boy a lot to HOPEFULLY get rid of that water. If you leave the crystal alone, thinking that the stickiness will go away on its own, it'll probably will just get worse. Salt likes to trap wandering water molecules in a rock-solid prison even in the best circunstances, let alone when the particles are this small, maximizing surface for contact (which is why salt forms clumps if you leave your salt container open).

Let's just say that there's a reason we don't use ocean water (cheaper and more abundant than river water) to wash things unless we have no other option. And it's not even saturated.

i saw a girl on tiktok who put her salt lamp in the dishwasher and didn’t realize it would dissolve, and it’s been on my mind for like 3 days

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blossomcola · 16 hours ago

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Reader being so obsessed with Dani’s ass she can’t help but to grab it any chance she gets it but especially when they’re making out and Dani’s desperately grinding into her trying to get both of them(but mostly herself) off…

pairing. daniela avanzini x fem reader.

content warnings. gropping.

daniela is aware of her good physique and definitely takes advantage of it. she knows she’s hot and of course she’ll take advantage of it whenever she feels the need! daniela is a threat and doesn’t hesitate for a second to use her... attributes in cases where she feels it is necessary <3 it doesn’t matter if she might be looking like a whore for using her body to her advantage, she honestly doesn’t care.

and is also mega aware of the effect she has on you. it doesn’t matter if you two have an established relationship and know each other like the back of your hand, daniela has no problem playing her typical games to tease you for a while, ending up acting totally uninvolved when you question her attitude and behavior, pretending as if her main goal wasn’t to be as provocative as possible to get a reaction out of you... of course you know she’s acting because you don’t believe her fake role of being oblivious to the situation, but you have nothing to prove it because she would be contradicting you all the time and denying everything 🫩 in moments like this you just have to bite your tongue to avoid continuing the conversation and not say anything, just let daniela win the argument because that’s her purpose: to argue and provoke you to make you angry and let her win.

but just as there are times when daniela’s annoying attitude pisses you off, there are also others where you don't hesitate and give in to her provocation <3 i can tell she would wear the shortest, tightest shorts possible just because she wants your attention on her, or in other words, she wants to feel your gaze glued on her ass and how her shorts barely cover her cheeks 💕 daniela always enjoys it more than anything when she feels that you are looking at her as intensely as when puppies drool for juicy food in front of their eyes, dying from a simple bite but not daring to act because the situation has not yet arisen :( she knows that no matter how much you always act and pretend, deep down you love her ass just as much as she does and if it were up to you you’d spend hours eating her ass — maybe it’s the way she always teases you when she's about to sit on your face and how your eyes dart somewhere else instead of her pussy, but it doesn’t matter the reason because daniela loves having you this dumb <3

i pretty much agree with the part about groping during a messy make–out session because i can imagine daniela as the kind of girlfriend who grinds her hips against yours in moments like this 🫠 she would even take your hands to guide them and position them on her ass in case they are not there yet because maybe you were caressing her sides but she is worse than you and needs your touch in other parts! daniela is nothing more than a pervert who loves it when someone blatantly gropes her body, and that won’t change at all when it comes to you 🥰

#daniela #daniela x fem reader #daniela x reader #daniela smut #daniela avanzini #daniela avanzini x fem reader #daniela avanzini x reader #daniela avanzini smut #katseye #katseye x fem reader #katseye x reader #katseye smut

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azzishands · 3 days ago

Text

My brother's girlfriend - Chapter four

Paige x Azzi

WC: 6.2k

Warnings: mature content (18+)

Summary: Paige is a bartender living with her younger brother Josh since their parents passed away. When Josh one day brings home Azzi, his new girlfriend, Paige instantly feels uneasy and keeps her distance. Their clashing personalities ignite conflict, making the house feel more like a battleground than a home. But when Josh has to leave for a month-long trip to Europe, Azzi moves in with Paige unexpectedly. Forced to share the same space, the tension between them grows, bubbling under the surface with unspoken emotions and complicated feelings that neither of them fully understands or wants to accept.

A/N: Let's go;)

Masterlist

----

There was only one week left until Josh would come back now.

After Paige’s return home, Azzi had noticed how the blonde was distancing herself. It was subtle, but enough for Azzi to notice, and it hurt.

She didn’t initiate their usual morning hugs, she spent more time in her bedroom behind closed doors and she didn’t come knocking on Azzi’s door, asking to watch a movie anymore.

And even if Paige was physically there, Azzi still missed her. She missed the way it used to be before the stupid kiss that should’ve never happened.

Azzi blamed herself.

If she hadn’t given in to her impulses, Paige would’ve hugged her this morning. Instead, she was sitting alone by the kitchen table, drinking her cold coffee by herself while Paige was alone in her bedroom, not planning on eating any breakfast at all.

It wasn’t because she didn’t want to be with Azzi. It was because she didn’t trust herself around her.

It was scaring her, how much that kiss had stirred everything inside her into mush and how she never wanted it to stop. She had lost her control to the point where it could’ve ended up much worse if she hadn’t stopped them when she did. Because she was so sure, that if she hadn’t, she would not have been able to later on either, if Azzi would’ve wanted her.

Just the thought of ‘what if I hadn’t stopped us’ both excited her and terrified her. Because the scenario of Azzi actually wanting her like that felt indescribably fulfilling and joyful, and at the same time frightening that she yearned for her brother’s girlfriend this badly.

Just the other day when Azzi was napping on the couch, laying on her side with her hands beneath her head, her mouth hanging slightly open, breathing peacefully in her sleep, and just the sight made Paige’s heart race. Paige put a blanket on her and let herself admire the view just for a minute. It was kinda crazy how beautiful the younger woman was. Her face looked perfect even in her sleep. Paige just wanted to reach out and touch her soft face with her fingertips - but she didn’t.

And that’s when she knew that she couldn’t spend too much time around Azzi, or she would do something she would regret. Something worse than last time.

The fact that she even let it happen at all felt like a failure as Josh’s sister.

Paige blamed herself.

She should be the older one, the more responsible one and the reliable sister one. Instead, she longed for Azzi like she had never longed before.

No one hurt more from Paige distancing herself from Azzi than Paige.

Seriously, what was wrong with her? Why did she want the one person that she absolutely couldn’t have?

She needed to do something about it.

Paige grabbed her phone and downloaded the one app she absolutely hated. But she had to.

While on the other side of the wall, Azzi was sitting in the kitchen, thinking the exact same thing: she needed to do something about Paige’s distance.

----

It was Saturday night, and Josh would come back the day after.

Azzi had accepted the fact that guilt was just a part of their relationship now, because that’s what she’s been feeling towards him for the last couple of weeks.

And this time she felt guilty over the fact that she dreaded his homecoming more than longed for it. And over the fact that what she longed for more, was for Paige to stop distancing herself.

How was it possible that she missed Paige, who she lived with, more than her boyfriend that she hasn’t seen in over a month?

Azzi talked to Caroline in the morning on the phone before she would have to go to work.

“She’s still distancing herself,” Azzi sighed into her phone, talking quietly in her bedroom so the blonde in the other room wouldn’t be able to hear.

“Isn’t it for the best though?” Caroline questioned.

“No?” Azzi said. “Why would it be?”

“I don’t know, it just sounds like you guys have some complicated feelings for each other, and maybe it's best for you to not be so close if you can’t handle your feelings without cheating on your boyfriend.”

“There are no feelings involved,” Azzi said, irritated. “It was just a mistake. It wasn’t cheating, it was a stupid accident.”

Azzi knew how it sounded. She even felt it when the words rolled from her tongue.

What a pathetic attempt at an excuse.

”Okay okay,” Caroline said when she heard the irritation in Azzi’s voice. ”I’m just saying, it could be a perfect opportunity for you to… I don’t know, think about something else than Paige. You’ve kind of been talking about her non-stop.”

”Have not,” Azzi muttered, but knew that her friend was right.

”Azzi,” Caroline almost laughed. ”I know more about Paige than Josh at this point.”

Azzi sighed and gave up even trying to pretend she doesn’t know what Caroline’s talking about.

”It’s just because I’m around her all the time,” she said. ”But maybe you’re right. Josh is coming home tomorrow and that’s all that matters”

”Attagirl,” her friend smiled through the phone.

”Thanks Car, for real, don’t know what I’d do without you,” Azzi expressed her gratitude for her supportive friend and they wrapped up their call.

She stepped out of her room to eat some breakfast before going to work.

Paige was already sitting at the table, eating a toast with her morning coffee, scrolling on her phone with those damn glasses on and the messy bun that always made Azzi’s breath catch in her throat.

It wasn’t fair, the effect the older girl had on her just by looking adorably domestic and messy.

”Morning,” Paige gave her a quick look with a nod.

”Hey,” Azzi greeted and grabbed a cup. Paige had made coffee for the both of them like always, and Azzi found solace in it. Maybe Paige had given up their morning hug routine, but at least she held onto the routine of making coffee for Azzi too.

”You working today?” Paige asked as Azzi sat down across from her.

”Yeah, in an hour. I’ll be home for dinner though. You?”

”Yeah. I work til five, but I might not come home, so you don’t have to worry if I’m not here tonight,” Paige dropped so casually it hurt.

”Oh,” Azzi blinked and ignored the twinge in her heart. ”Sam?”

”No it’s uh… I have a date,” she revealed.

Azzi swallowed nervously and tried to look as unaffected by the news as possible, while her whole chest hurt in a way that made her just want to clutch her heart in pain.

”Who’s the lucky girl?” She managed to ask with a forced smile as if she really wanted to be stabbed in the heart again.

”Just someone I met on this dating app,” Paige shrugged.

She looked so calm, as if it was an everyday occurrence for her to break heartbreaking news like this, Azzi thought.

”Oh. Didn’t know you were on those,” Azzi said with raised eyebrows.

Paige looked at her and studied her face before saying:

”I wasn’t until recently.”

The way she was looking at Azzi, puzzled, as if she was trying to figure out why she seemed so invested in Paige’s use of dating apps made Azzi nervous and she immediately wanted to stop talking about it.

”Fun,” she deadpanned and switched her attention to her phone to try and end their conversation.

She didn’t want to hear it.

”You picking up Josh tomorrow?” Paige asked.

”No, he’s taking a cab,” Azzi told her. ”I’m at work when he lands, so.”

Paige just nodded and returned her attention to her phone as well.

The second Azzi had finished her coffee, she got dressed and left for work. She was half an hour too early, but she just needed to get out of the apartment.

The thought of Paige on a date with someone made her feel sick to her stomach, and the fact that it bothered her this much made her even sicker.

Her co-workers noticed the way she was so uptight and stressed the whole day.

”Are you okay?” Jana, Azzi’s co-worker who she considered one of her few friends at the place, asked her. ”You seem a bit off.”

”I just have a lot on my mind at the moment,” Azzi told her. ”Thought work was gonna be distracting enough, but turns out it isn’t.”

”Wanna talk about it?” Jana asked, kindly.

”It’s just… my roommate told me she has this date tonight and it kind of bothers me,” Azzi sighed and cleaned the countertop.

”Why?”

”I think I don’t want her to go on it,” Azzi said nervously.

”Okay. Well I think it’s pretty normal to feel like that with friendships,” Jana mused. ”I remember when my best friend got a boyfriend and she was always with him and I felt so forgotten and taken for granted.”

”Yeah, exactly,” Azzi forced a smile and pretended it was just like that.

”Hey, let’s go out tonight. We’ll have fun and you’ll be too busy to think about your roommate’s date,” Jana suggested with a big smile.

”That’d actually be really great,” Azzi let out a breath of relief and gratitude towards her friend for the plan.

”Hell yeah!” Jana cheered. ”Fuck your roommate!”

If only Paige would.

----

”So my parents totally wanted me to become a doctor, but I wasn’t really interested in it, so that’s how I became a lawyer instead,” the woman in front of Paige told her enthusiastically.

”Great,” Paige forced a smile.

Paige had chosen the bar where they were having the date. It was a smaller and a more intimate kind of wine bar, which now in hindsight was a bad decision as the wine just made her even sleepier than her date’s boring facts about herself.

“A lot of people think lawyers are boring people, but I would have to disagree,” the woman named Ari kept talking.

“Mhm,” Paige nodded along and listened half heartedly while constantly sipping on her wine.

Ari was beautiful, there was no doubt about that. It was the reason why Paige even matched with her to begin with. But if she had known that Ari was the type of person who only talked on and on about herself with little to no interest in Paige at all, she wouldn’t have gone on it.

Some people just want to be liked rather than finding someone they like, Paige realized.

The night was a bust, to say the least.

And Paige couldn’t seem to shake her conversation with Azzi earlier from her head.

She had almost looked disappointed over the fact that Paige was gonna go on a date. Almost. It could’ve might as well have been Paige’s mind playing tricks on her. Because why would Azzi look disappointed that her boyfriend’s sister was gonna go on a date?

No, it didn’t make sense, it couldn’t be.

And this is exactly why Paige needed this date. She had to get Azzi out of her head once and for all. It had gone too much time without any control over her thoughts and desires over the younger one, and it had to stop now.

“Like, I love commercial law, but I also like human rights law, so I haven’t really decided yet what my true passion is,” Ari was mostly debating with herself with Paige as a bystander to the whole monologue.

“I get that,” Paige responded automatically, giving validation without getting any.

And even though it was the last thing she should do, she couldn’t help but wonder what Azzi was doing tonight.

----

A glass of vodka cranberry and three shots of tequila later, and Azzi was finally starting to relax.

She and Jana were at a rooftop club that was full of people. It was exactly what she needed.

Azzi was wearing an oversized black shirt as a dress, cinched with a wide belt which was layered over a black lace bralette that was teasingly on display. Her curly hair was styled in a high updo with soft curls framing her face, with black sunglasses, hoop earrings, and a bold hot pink rhinestone handbag in her hand - she truly looked like she was out for murder.

“If I didn’t know better, I would say that you’re looking like you’re out for some fun tonight, like damn,” Jana laughed as the third guy that had bought Azzi drinks for the night left them alone.

“You can have this,” Azzi chuckled and scooted the bought drink to Jana.

“Thank you,” Jana immediately took it and sipped on it.

“This is just what I needed,” Azzi smiled. “Thank you for taking me out tonight, Jana.”

“Of course, what are friends for?” Jana smiled.

The night had actually been a success so far. Azzi hadn’t been thinking about the thing she didn’t want to think about. The alcohol had seemed to do its thing for once.

Well, until they went out on the dancefloor.

Jana had led them into the middle of the dancing crowd and had found a spot for them to dance. It had started okay at first. But then Jana had to go to the bathroom, and Azzi lost her in the sea of people.

Azzi was tall, but she couldn’t see over the bouncing of heads in the way of her to see. And in her drunken state, she just resonated that Jana would come back, so she should just keep dancing until she does.

And that was her mistake, because soon enough, she felt a presence behind her. She was just swaying to the music, and the person behind her swayed with her. No hands were on her - yet - but the heat of the person's front ghosting her back was getting to her.

Her mind started to go to the place it absolutely could not go to.

She pictured the tall blonde woman that lived in her mind rent free to be the person behind her. In her intoxication, it wasn’t hard to vividly daydream it to the point where it almost felt likely that it actually was.

Azzi rocked her hips back against the imagined Paige, and heard a soft grunt by her ear. She felt a chin softly resting against her shoulder, and hands grabbing her by the waist. In her periphery, she saw blonde strands by her face, and closed her eyes with satisfaction over the hair color she saw.

“Paige,” she breathed and tilted her head back against the strong shoulder behind her and rocked herself harder against the person.

She felt her hips getting pulled back by the person’s big hands and their sensual dance started to heat up Azzi’s whole body. She needed more. She wanted Paige to touch her, not just dance with her.

“You want to get out of here?” a strange voice said loudly in her ear and took her out of her daydream.

Azzi instantly shoved herself off the person and turned around with an upset face.

“Who the fuck are you?” she yelled over the music and glared at the blonde stranger in front of her.

She didn’t even wait for an answer before she started to elbow her way out of the dancefloor angrily, all hot and bothered.

In her distress over her big blunder, she went to the bar and ordered two more drinks at the same time.

“There you are, I’ve been trying to find you,” Jana approached her and gave her a quick embrace.

“I’m gonna finish these drinks, and then I think I’m gonna head home,” Azzi told her.

She needed to be drunk for when she would get home to an empty apartment, while Paige was probably fucking some random-

“Alright, I’ll fix an uber,” Jana nodded.

When the uber dropped her off at her apartment, she hugged Jana goodbye and thanked her for the night. It had almost been perfect. Almost.

Azzi opened the door to the apartment and almost stumbled in together with the door.

“Woah,” she said and steadied herself with her two hands on the door, trying to stand up in her heels.

She was in the peak of her intoxication where everything felt easy and somewhat joyful. She felt on top of the world where nothing could bring her down.

“Azzi?”

And Azzi froze. She slowly turned around and saw the blonde sitting on their couch in her sweats, eating popcorn and watching some movie.

“Paige?” she drunkenly asked. Of course it was Paige. The one person she just daydreamed she had grinded her ass against.

Paige looked her roommate up and down and gulped.

“What are you… I mean, wow, um… You look…”

Azzi bit her lip and grinned widely, giving Paige a little swirl in her heels, which almost resulted in another stumble to the floor.

Paige nervously laughed at the drunken state Azzi clearly was in.

“Don’t fall,” she said.

“I won’t,” Azzi said and took off her heels and threw them somewhere on the floor.

“You’ve been out?” Paige asked and couldn’t help but steal glances at Azzi’s cleavage. This was killing her. Azzi looked like a literal goddess walking on this earth. She was the human form of sex appeal. How can someone look this hot?

“Mhm,” Azzi’s tongue slowly wet her upper lip, and Paige choked on her own saliva.

Azzi sat down right next to Paige with no inhibitions. She didn’t care that Paige wanted distance. She did not.

“How are you feeling?” Paige asked with a strained voice.

“Great,” she smirked and looked at Paige with hooded eyelids. “How are you feeling, Paige?”

“I’m feeling… a lot,” she nervously chuckled. “Have you been drinking lots of vodka cranberry tonight?”

“Just a couple,” Azzi shrugged and leaned her head on Paige’s shoulder.

“A couple?” Paige giggled.

“You smell good,” Azzi just said and snuggled her face into Paige’s neck.

“I know,” Paige laughed and put her hands on Azzi’s shoulder and lightly pushed her back. “Are you trying to kill me,” she mumbled quietly to herself.

“Oh right, you probably don’t want me all up on you now that you’re dating someone else,” Azzi said with a bitter tone and backed off.

“It was one date,” Paige frowned at Azzi, confused.

“Well, how was it then?” Azzi asked and looked at her.

Azzi’s perfume infiltrating Paige’s nostrils was making it very hard to think straight. And the closeness from her took all of her willpower to not just reach out and touch. The black bralette showing the shape of her breasts was enough to give Paige a heart attack.

“Okay,” she choked out while her eyes were going everywhere. On Azzi’s breasts, on her face, on her legs, on her hair, on her lips, on her eyes. She didn’t know where to look for it to seem normal.

“Just okay?” Azzi’s lips curved into a small smirk. “What did you do?”

“We just drank wine and talked,” Paige shrugged.

“Oh, so I’m not the only one a bit drunk huh?” Azzi smiled and put her hands on Paige’s sides teasingly.

“I’m not drunk, I’m just tipsy,” Paige protested and placed her hands on top of Azzi’s to remove them. But Azzi didn’t let go of her.

Instead, she swung her leg over Paige and sat down on her lap, still holding on to her waist.

“Azzi,” Paige said in a warning tone. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“I’m just hanging with my roomie,” she giggled and moved her hands up to Paige’s shoulders. Her inhibitions were completely gone, the alcohol running most of her thinking and doing.

Paige’s chest was heaving. Her whole body was on fire.

Azzi was straddling her, looking like that. How the hell do you defend yourself against that? And how can you not look at her chest?

“Like what you see?” Azzi bit her lip, pleased at where Paige’s eyes were.

“Azzi,” Paige sighed and closed her eyes as if she was exhausted.

“You like my name that much huh?” Azzi felt herself move her hips forward a little, softly bumping herself into Paige’s lower stomach, making Paige let out a strained exhale.

“Because I like hearing you say it,” Azzi continued and placed her mouth by Paige’s ear. “But I’d rather hear you scream it.”

Saying that Paige was malfunctioning was an understatement. She was having a full blown meltdown.

“I- I-” she stammered into Azzi’s neck, while she was feeling Azzi’s hot breath on her ear.

“Paige,” Azzi whispered into her ear. “I thought you were at the club tonight. And you know what I did?”

Paige was out of breath. She just slowly shook her head with shut eyes, feeling desperate to touch and desperate to escape Azzi all at once.

“I grinded my ass on you,” Azzi told her. “Kinda like this.”

Azzi rolled her hips forward again, but didn’t stop this time.

“Azzi,” Paige whimpered helplessly at the feeling of Azzi slowly grinding on her.

“Paige,” Azzi whimpered back.

“You can’t- do that,” Paige exhaled, sounding totally defeated.

“You want me to stop?” Azzi asked innocently in her ear.

Paige groaned and finally put her hands on Azzi’s waist, guiding her hips forward against her.

“Mhm,” Azzi hummed, pleased. “Good. Because I need you, Paige.”

“How much?” Paige’s voice trembled.

“This much,” Azzi stopped rocking her hips and grabbed Paige’s hand. She moved her hand down to her underwear and made Paige feel the wetness through her panties on her fingers.

“Shit Azzi,” Paige gasped and looked at her with dilated pupils.

“It’s all for you, Paige,” Azzi whispered and flicked her unfocused eyes between Paige’s left and right one. “Only you.”

Paige had never been so turned on in her entire life.

“I need you so bad, P,” Azzi whined again against her ear and started to grind against her again. “Please. Please just make me feel good baby.”

The desperation in Azzi’s voice made Paige’s pussy throb, and it almost felt like she could come just from the sound of her begging. There was no alternative universe where Paige would be able to say no to that.

“You need it that bad, babygirl?” Paige said huskily in her ear.

“So bad,” Azzi nodded eagerly.

Both of them were deep in another dimension by this point. All reason and warnings were flown out the window now, and there was only their lust left in existence.

“What you want me to do about it?” Paige asked.

“I need you to fuck me,” Azzi said and wrapped her arms around Paige’s neck, holding onto her.

“You really sure?” Paige asked and let her hands move to Azzi’s ass.

“Yes,” Azzi exhaled, and not even a second later, Paige lifted her up into the air and carried her to her bedroom.

Azzi gasped at the sudden move.

Paige let her down on her bed and crawled on top of her. Her eyes were dark now, and Azzi could feel the shift in her face compared to before.

There was no self restraint left in her eyes, and it made Azzi shiver in excitement.

“You’re so much fucking trouble,” Paige leaned down and murmured with a low voice straight into Azzi’s ear. “And you’ve been trouble ever since I met you. Fuck, you don’t know what I’m about to do to you.”

Azzi arched her back and drew in a sharp breath at Paige’s words. Azzi didn’t know if it was a promise or a threat, but either way, she couldn’t wait.

“Look at you,” Paige scoffed. “So impatient.”

“I don’t care,” Azzi said breathlessly. “Touch me.”

Paige huffed with a smirk and leaned back so she was sitting up on top of Azzi.

“I haven’t even kissed you yet and you want me to start touching you?” Paige asked with a wicked grin.

Paige let her hands rest by her sides, not touching Azzi at all besides straddling her.

Azzi rose from the bed and sat up, suddenly being face to face with the blonde.

“I’m this close to fucking you first if you don’t touch me now,” Azzi’s nose bumped into Paige’s, and every word she said shot out hot air onto Paige’s lips.

Eye to eye, brown ones staring at blue ones intensely.

“I’d like to see you try,” Paige said back, her gaze unwavering.

Azzi crashed her lips against Paige and flipped them, pushing the blonde down on the mattress.

She was starving for Paige, and all she wanted to do was kiss her everywhere.

Paige arched her back against Azzi and let her hands hold onto the younger one’s back tightly. She didn’t think Azzi would really flip them over, the element of surprise turning her on even more.

Azzi’s mouth was relentless. She was devouring Paige’s lips, sucking her tongue and massaged her skin.

Paige moaned the second Azzi moved from her lips to her jaw and further down to her throat. Azzi gently kissed her on her pulse point, and Paige writhed by the sudden softness. It tickled her everywhere.

“Mmm, don’t get too comfortable, I’m just getting started,” Azzi murmured against her skin and kept on kissing her neck.

“Shit,” Paige gasped when Azzi suddenly bit down on her sensitive skin and then softly let her tongue soothe the skin.

“Let me give you a reminder that no one on that fucking app will touch you like I do,” Azzi whispered. Before Paige could even register what she had said, Azzi’s mouth was sucking on her skin harshly.

“Fuck!” Paige threw her head back from the painful pleasure.

Azzi didn’t stop. She moved her mouth all over her neck, proceeding to do the same thing over and over again.

Her hands were holding onto Paige’s waist, but were slowly moving their way underneath her shirt.

“Off, off, off,” Azzi said and moved the shirt up. Paige cooperated and moved it over her head and threw it on the floor.

Azzi licked her lips at the sight of Paige’s sports bra and her marks all over her neck.

“You’re perfect,” she declared, and leaned down to kiss her.

Before she knew it, Paige flipped them over and slammed Azzi’s wrists down onto the mattress, disallowing her to keep touching her.

“You’re really that desperate, huh? Couldn’t even wait for me to kiss you before you started to take over,” Paige murmured against her lips.

“I told you,” Azzi breathed heavily and looked up at Paige with dark eyes.

“Thought you had at least some self control in you,” Paige scoffed.

“I don’t,” Azzi exhaled and closed her eyes in defeat.

“Well, you’re gonna have to, or I won’t touch you,” Paige threatened.

“Paige,” Azzi whined and tried to move her wrists out of her grip, but to no avail. There were really no words to describe the physical pain she felt from having to wait any longer. Her whole body was pent up with weeks long tension and aching, and she had to let it unravel this time or it felt like she would explode.

“You’re gonna listen to what I say, and if you don’t, I won’t touch you. You understand?” Paige breathed against Azzi.

Azzi nodded with a gulp, looking up at Paige with those big eyes that made Paige go weak in the knees.

“Good girl,” Paige said with a pleased tone.

Azzi moaned loudly at the praise and Paige almost wanted to laugh.

“You really need me to touch you? Seems like my voice alone is enough,” Paige teased.

“I want both,” Azzi pleaded. “I want it all.”

Paige let go of Azzi’s wrists and moved her hands down her arms, to her chest, and slowly moved the fabric to the sides, revealing the black bralette in lace.

“Yeah, you sure dressed like it,” Paige marveled at the sight, and Azzi sighed contentedly at the touch.

“Come on,” Paige said and suddenly got off of her. “Take it off for me.”

Paige pointed to the floor and looked at Azzi expectantly. Azzi exhaled with a flustered look, but obediently got up to stand on the spot Paige had pointed to.

“Strip,” Paige sat back on the bed and eyed the brunette like she was something to eat.

Azzi looked at Paige and started to unbutton her shirt. She felt nervous and excited all at once. The way Paige was staring at her with lustfulled eyes and admiration, it stirred up something deeper in Azzi.

“Fuck,” Paige exhaled when Azzi let the shirt fall to the ground, and her underwear was revealed.

Black lace thong.

“You’re trying to kill me,” Paige mumbled and swallowed.

Azzi just smiled shyly and let her fingers play with the hem of the thong.

“Stop,” Paige said and approached her.

“Who the fuck did you wear this for?” Paige stood in front of her and gently put her hands on Azzi’s hips.

“For you,” Azzi exhaled and leaned her head automatically forward to Paige. But Paige just leaned back with her head, not letting Azzi touch her.

“You’re a fucking problem,” Paige groaned and moved her fingertips over the hem of Azzi’s thong, making her hips jerk forward.

“Nah-uh, bad girls aren’t allowed to move,” Paige said and retracted her hands.

“You said I was a good girl,” Azzi said breathlessly.

“That was before I knew you had planned this stunt,” Paige stated.

Azzi just whined in response, but stayed still, making Paige smirk.

Paige reached her hand forward once again, letting her fingertips graze over the hem of Azzi’s underwear, slowly moving them further down. Azzi’s brown eyes were boring into Paige’s blue ones, trying to find any type of anchor now that she couldn’t hold onto something.

Paige took a step forward, letting her head be next to Azzi’s and her mouth right by her ear, while her other hand gripped her waist.

And at last, she moved her fingers beneath the fabric down to Azzi’s pussy.

“You’re soaked,” Paige purred in her ear. “Can’t wait to taste you, baby.”

Azzi whimpered and felt her knees buckle, but quickly recovered and stood up straight again.

Paige let her middle finger feel the wetness and slid it up to Azzi’s clit, starting to make slow circles.

Azzi breathed loudly, not daring to let her instinctive reactions come through, trying to control her body.

But all control flew out the window the second Paige slid her middle finger inside her.

Azzi let out a short scream and lunged forward, grabbing onto Paige’s shoulders for support.

Paige was merciless. Because just as quickly as she had slid it in, she slid it out completely again and brought it to her lips.

“Fuck,” she licked her finger with one long swipe of her tongue. “Take off your underwear and spread your legs on the bed, now.”

Azzi quickly dragged down her thong and removed her bralette and eagerly did what she was told to. She laid down on her back and spread her legs, letting Paige see just how wet she was, dripping onto the sheets.

Paige took a deep breath and looked at her core greedily before kneeling on the floor, hooking her arms under Azzi’s legs, pulling her closer to the edge of the bed.

The way Paige was dragging it out was palpable for Azzi. She was beyond desperate by now and would probably come faster than she wanted to.

“Ah!” Azzi screeched and jolted by surprise when Paige suddenly slapped her bare pussy.

Before she could even recover from the impact, Paige’s tongue swiped through her folds with a featherlight touch.

Azzi arched her back and grabbed the sheets hard with a moan.

“I love the way you sound,” Paige said and looked up at her, while giving another swipe of her tongue.

Azzi’s hands flew to Paige’s head, grabbing the back of it, pushing it closer to her center.

She didn’t care anymore. She couldn’t. There was no way she could wait any longer now.

And Paige let her.

In fact, Paige let her flat tongue swipe up and down aggressively while letting her hands grab Azzi’s breasts harshly.

Her head bobbing up and down from eating Azzi out, feeling the way Azzi was grabbing her head hard, refusing Paige to back away from her pussy now.

And it didn’t take long for Azzi to feel it building.

Paige’s tongue was hot, soft and relentless.

“I’m gonna come,” Azzi moaned out and lifted her butt from the mattress, fully grinding against Paige’s face while holding her head steadily.

Paige felt Azzi’s strong thighs on each side of her head, almost choking her while Azzi was chasing her high.

“Paige!” Azzi grinded harder against her face, and Paige could barely breathe, but that didn’t stop her from continuing licking her exactly where she needed.

Azzi came with a silent scream, mouth hanging open, eyes shut tight and head thrown back in pleasure. Paige felt lightheaded at the sight of her bliss and the lack of air, and gratefully gasped for air the second Azzi’s legs went limp and fell back down to the mattress.

Paige licked her Azzi-coated lips and hummed at the taste.

Azzi was panting, her body exhausted and relaxed on the bed. Paige crawled over her and leaned down to give her a sweet kiss, letting her taste herself.

“We’re not done yet,” Paige whispered in her ear, and Azzi’s eyes fluttered open.

“Sit on my face,” Azzi said pleadingly, and caressed Paige’s sides with her hands.

Paige just let out a laugh but felt her pussy throb by the words. “That’s not what I meant.”

She spread Azzi’s legs again and let her hand wander from Azzi’s chest, to her stomach, down to her pulsating pussy again.

Azzi didn’t even have time to catch her breath before Paige slid two fingers inside her.

“Oh my God,” she exclaimed and grabbed onto Paige’s arms.

Paige curled her fingers and hit the spongy part. Azzi’s eyes rolled back into her head with a soft moan escaping her mouth.

Paige was still hovering over her, whispering sweet nothings in her ear.

“You feel so good on my fingers,” Paige said, voice dripping with praise. “Mmm, never seen anyone sexier than you. Let me hear you, baby.”

“Paige,” Azzi moaned. Paige just pumping in and out of her in a steady rhythm, hitting that spot every time, driving Azzi crazy.

“Mhm, does that feel good?”

“So- ah- so good,” Azzi managed to get out and gripped Paige’s arms harder.

Paige leaned down and kissed Azzi’s neck tenderly, while what she did with her fingers was everything but tender.

“Oh God,” Azzi groaned loudly when Paige added her thumb on her clit.

“Yeah?” Paige bit her lip and looked down at Azzi’s face beneath her. “Fuck, you’re so fucking beautiful, Azzi. The most beautiful.”

“Paige,” Azzi whined and started to meet her fingers desperately.

“I love having you under me like this,” Paige kissed her nose delicately, and Azzi looked up at her with her mouth hanging open in pleasure, her eyes hazy and unfocused with lust. But Paige could see it. She could see the tenderness in her eyes.

“I love being under you, P,” Azzi whispered breathlessly.

“I know you do,” Paige smiled at her, and Azzi smiled back. “And you’re doing so good for me too.”

Paige penetrated harder.

“I just wanna be good for you,” Azzi moaned at the new pressure.

Paige’s body tingled all over at her words.

“You’re so so good for me, Azzi baby,” Paige praised her. “You can let go now, you’ve been such a good girl.”

And Azzi came, as if Paige was the one to decide that with her words. Nonsense words spilled from her mouth, and her whole body tensed up as her orgasm was crashing down on her, wave after wave hitting her hard.

Finally, Azzi instinctively pushed Paige’s hand away from her center, and she laid there, panting.

Paige laid down beside her and studied her face, waiting for her to catch her breath.

And reality slowly crashed down on both of them.

The weight of what they had just done settled the silence between them.

Azzi didn’t have the guts to look at Paige, she just stared up at the ceiling, before closing her eyes with a heavy heart.

Paige saw. She saw the moment Azzi’s conscience sobered up enough to catch up with her.

She carefully pulled the sheets over them and pulled Azzi close to her, and Azzi didn’t stop her. Azzi let herself be the small spoon, letting herself be held by Paige before the guilt would completely take over her body. ‘Just for tonight, let me belong to Paige only’, she thought to herself.

Paige felt her heartstrings being pulled the very moment she wrapped her arms around the younger one.

This was more than just a mistake. This was serious.

Her heart ached with longing for the very woman that was in her arms, while simultaneously breaking at the obvious look of guilt on her face just seconds prior.

But Paige just wanted to hold her, even if it was for one night only. Regret could consume her tomorrow, guilt could swallow her whole.

But not tonight.

Tonight was for Paige to have Azzi in her arms one last time, before Paige’s whole heart would shatter in the morning.

#azzi fudd #paige bueckers #pazzi #pazzi fics

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cherrygarcia-07 · 1 day ago

Text

And Still I Will Live Here // Spencer Reid💙

Synopsis: spencer finds himself struggling with his identity and autonomy after being released from millburn and it’s beginning to affect your relationship. you do everything you can to help him adjust, but the hurdle of shaving seems to be one he just can’t jump.

Pairing: post prison spencer x reader

Genre: angst with a happy ending

Word Count: 5.9k

Notes/Tags: READ WITH CARE!! sad spencer, they fight just a tad, spencer is snappy for a sec, spencer struggles like a lot, panic attacks/prison flashbacks, accidentally cutting while shaving, blood mention, talks of luis delgado & nadie ramos’ murder, references to spencer stabbing himself in prison, BUT READER HELPS HIM HES OK IN THE END !! title from I Will by Mitski :3

masterlist // pls reblog if you enjoy!! it helps promote the fic so so much !!

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To say it was difficult for Spencer to readjust to normal life would be a drastic understatement. Nothing quite felt as real as it did before nor as safe as it did before. Even moving through his own apartment felt like falling in a dream, that paralysing fear when you know it’s not real and you know you just need to wake up but for whatever reason you just can’t. The panic makes itself at home in your throat, squeezing the breath out of you as you rapidly try to chase after it, as you try to stop the fall but it’s hopeless. Eventually you wake up and think that everything should be okay now but it’s not, at least not for Spencer. It still feels like some kind of hazy trap to him, like he’s scared he’ll open his eyes and still be there.

Spencer tried to be his old self for your sake but you could tell that the walls had never fully crumbled down. He’d let you reach out for him, let you lace your fingers through his or let your arms wrap around him but you caught the way he’d flinch if you held too tight. You felt the way his body tensed, or the way he jerked like something in his gut was telling him to pull away. Logically, he knew he was safe with you but after months of sleeping with one eye open and obsessively checking over his shoulder his nerves had begun to lie to him. He’d engage when you spoke to him, but he would never start the conversation. There were no ramblings or fun facts, no casual conversations over breakfast or sweet whispers in your ear as you fell asleep. He’d smile at you the way he always used to, except now it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

You thought having him back would feel different. Not that you weren’t grateful about it- God you prayed for this every single day, his name on repeat in your mind like a broken record- but it felt sometimes that all you’d gotten back was a body, a spectre, moving through your shared space like a puppet on strings. Seeing Spencer so fragile broke your heart more than you could have ever prepared for, and what was worse was you still had no idea what had happened to him in there to strip him of himself so cruelly. Occasionally you still caught glimpses of him; when his hand instinctively reached for you in his sleep before he woke up and hastily snatched it back, how his eyes lit up for just a second like a flame reignited when you called his name before it was snuffed out again, how for a second- just one small, blissful second- he allowed himself to lean into your touch before he stiffened and pulled away. The latter stung, you had to admit, the stab of rejection piercing through you with a sharpness that took your breath away, but you could see through him when the smoke cleared. In those short, serene moments before the walls shot back up you felt it. He was still in there somewhere- he was still your Spencer.

Shortly after his release you had woken up one night to use the bathroom, the bed cold beside you and the distance between you and Spencer feeling larger than usual. Shyly, you poked out a hand finding nothing but an empty mattress and crumpled sheets. A newly familiar feeling of panic clouded your mind like fog as you gently called his name into the darkness to no answer. You hopped out of bed, feet padding along the wooden floor and your heart sank as you slowly pushed open the bathroom door. There was Spencer, on the floor in the corner in a ghost-like state. His eyes were blank and his mouth was parted as he stared ahead into the shadows with his hands hovering near his head, like he had reached to grasp at his hair and malfunctioned halfway through the motion. Tears stung at your eyes, a wretched weight in your chest dragging you to the ground as you carefully crouched in front of him, your movements slow and tentative. He’d flinched when he spotted you and you bit so hard on your quivering lip you almost drew blood.

“T-the uh,” he began shakily, voice barely there at all, “the door closed.” His eyes squeezed shut as he swallowed his words, a heavy, shameful sigh leaving his lips.

His vacant eyes explained everything he couldn’t say. He’d felt trapped. In the darkness of the night the bathroom became a cell, every dreary drip from the sink’s tap had felt deafening as they echoed off of inescapable walls, the tiles were harsh and icy beneath his hands as he sunk to the floor and froze in place. He never spoke of it again, but after that night a nightlight was placed in every room, a doorstop in every doorway.

Since then you’d coaxed him out of the strict meal schedule he’s become accustomed to, a compulsion he still battled for a while after he was home. You’d put yourself in charge of cooking meals or ordering take-out to save him reaching for whatever was plain and simple as if he’d convinced himself he wasn’t worth the effort anymore. You even helped him pick his clothes out in the morning when you noticed he’d abandoned his colourful ties and patterned sweaters, realising he’d become overwhelmed by the choice after months of wearing the same thing- months of being the prison’s property.

Spencer was still avoiding talking about Millburn but you didn’t push or pry, rather you observed. You recognised what made him lash out, what made him shrink into himself without a word, you realised there were painful memories clinging to him like leeches wherever he went like his brain was never fully relaxed, interpreting everything around him as a threat. As much as you wanted- needed- him to open up to you, you were scared to push too hard and cause him to retreat entirely. And so you found silent ways to help him, a subtle hand on his shoulder to try and help him heal one day at a time, yet there was one thing you couldn’t quite figure out and that was why hasn’t he shaved yet?

Before Spencer had shaved almost obsessively, always complaining about the feeling of the stubble or the way it made him look. You’d assumed that he might struggle with that more than he already did after being made to grow it out but as time went by without it being touched you thought that maybe he’d just gotten used to it. However the way he itched and itched told you otherwise. The way he looked in the mirror like he didn’t even recognise himself told you otherwise.

“Spence?” You called gently from your spot on the armchair. Spencer was sat in the corner of the couch, tucking himself against the armrest like he was trying to take up as little space as possible while his hand absentmindedly made its way to his chin again.

“Yeah?” He responded, not looking up from his book. He hadn’t turned a page in 10 minutes.

You swallowed before you spoke, hesitant to bring it up again. “Why don’t you just shave it, honey?” You tried giving him a small smile but it didn’t help.

His brows furrowed as he lifted his head to meet your eyes. “What are you talking about?”

“It’s bothering you.”

“It’s not.” He replied bluntly, coldly. “I already told you it’s not.”

About a week ago you’d had the same discussion. Spencer seemed to be in a better mood than usual, much to your relief- it felt like you were finally making real progress. The two of you were sitting together on the couch closer than you’d been since his release, you sitting with your knees propped by your chest and angled in a way so that they leaned over him. Something was on TV that you weren’t paying attention to, engrossed in a conversation he’d started about a book he’d read lately. Truthfully you weren’t saying much back as you were far too enamoured by the warm sound of his voice that you’d missed so much as it flowed, bright and lively with an excitement and passion that had been all too absent from him lately. At some point he began to itch, more and more often over time you’d noticed. It had been the kind of evening you’d dreamed of since having him home, huddled up together in the candlelight talking about nothing in particular just like before, but as soon as you suggested shaving his voice froze over. His expression dropped. Almost as soon as the words left your mouth the atmosphere shifted- instant and harsh. Spencer had deflected it, but there was a sharpness in his voice, one that sliced a gap between the two of you again and left you baffled.

“You keep scratching at it.” You pushed hesitantly as his hand dropped on cue as if to prove you wrong.

“My skin’s just dry.” He said, his eyes returning to that same page in his book. “I don’t know why you’re so fixated on this.”

“It’s just that you never liked growing your hair out before.” Before. You regretted the word as soon as it left your lips.

“Does that mean I’m not allowed to like it now?” He finally flipped the page with a crisp thwack that filled the air.

“Of course not, it’s just-“

“I’m capable of deciding what I do and don’t like.” He bit back. Somewhere inside of your heart you knew it wasn’t really directed at you, but that didn’t mean it didn’t sting.

“I know that, Spence. I’m just trying to help.” You sighed despite yourself, losing patience. You were understanding, of course. You’d been nothing but understanding- but elastic will only stretch so far before it snaps back.

Spencer’s eyes narrowed almost in offence but he kept them pointed downward. “Well you’re not.”

“Not what?” You asked louder than before, tilting your head as you blinked in surprise.

“Helping.” He answered, far too matter of factly for your liking.

With a bitter laugh you dragged your hands down your face in pure exhaustion and when they dropped back down to your lap you saw Spencer staring up at you in confusion like he wasn’t even aware of what he’d just said. “I’m not helping?” You echoed incredulously, your voice shaking slightly under the weight of everything you’d been holding in.

His lips parted and his expression dropped as his brain caught up and he promptly closed the book he’d been pretending to read. “I didn’t mean-“

“No, Spence” you began shaking your head, “I’ve done everything I possibly can to help you. My brain is working so hard trying to put the pieces together myself and figure out what you need so that I can help you because you still won’t tell me anything. You’re still shutting me out.” Biting your lip, you paused and blinked up at the ceiling before looking back at him. “I know I couldn’t possibly understand even a fraction of how you’re feeling and I know that it’s hard to talk about but we can’t keep pretending that everything’s okay. Why can’t you trust me with this, Spencer?”

He was silent for a moment as the cogs turned in his head, hands clenching and unclenching restlessly against the cushions of the couch. “I do trust you.” He almost whispered, though he didn’t even sound convinced.

“So talk to me.” You spoke back, voice gentler but cracking around the edges. “I am so grateful to have you back and I love you, Spence- so fucking much- but I don’t know what you expect me to do. How do you expect me to feel when I suggest something as simple as shaving and you shut down on me or lash out at me without telling me why?”

You waited. And waited. Like they were moving on their own your fingers began drumming against the armrest of the chair, their humble beat echoing in the otherwise empty room. You waited for the sound of his voice to join in, singing words of reassurance and comfort, but it never did. Instead he bowed his head, gazing at the floor like he was trying to hide from you entirely as he shrank even further into the couch- further away from you. Swallowing the lump in your throat, you took a deep breath before speaking again.

“Can we please talk about this?” The silence deafened you, ears ringing as you nodded solemnly and rose to your feet. “You know what, there’s only so much I can do by myself, Spencer. I know you’re struggling but this isn’t fair- you have to meet me halfway at some point. Until then I’m going to bed.”

In his head Spencer thought about calling after you, about saying goodnight as you walked away. He imagined getting up and following you, gently grabbing your wrist to stop you in your tracks so he could apologise and tell you that he’s just scared. He’s scared that you won’t see him the same way anymore, or scared that maybe you already do see him different, scared that you’ll think Millburn sent home a burden and not your boyfriend. He pictures telling you that he’s sorry and that he’s ready to let you in. But his brain and his body are not one anymore. While his mind screams at him to do something, imprisoned behind the bars of his own guilt, his body remains paralysed. No matter how hard he wills it too it simply will not move, rather it seems to fuse further into the course fabric of the couch, adamant on watching you leave.

Spencer didn’t know how long he sat there, unmoving except for the hand scratching at his face. He wasn’t even sure if he realised he was doing it, numb to the feeling of nails against skin as the compulsion took over like a parasite. Behind the closed bedroom door he could hear you getting ready to go to sleep, the sounds so familiar he could practically see himself in the room. As he listened to the rustling of fabric as you changed into your pyjamas he remembered how he used to sit on the edge of the bed, listening to you ramble about your day with a soft smile on his face. When he heard the creak of the mattress as you climbed into bed he thought about how you were climbing into bed alone, becoming all too accustomed to sleeping beside an empty space instead of next to him. He heard the click of the bedside lamp being shut off and his heart clenched with something bittersweet when he heard the nightlight on his side of the bed being switched on and when he turned his head tears flooded his waterline as it’s warm glow poured out under the doorway.

With a weighted sigh his hand fell to his lap, his face raw and stinging- not that he noticed. His head pounded. A chorus of voices bickered over one another, all sounding completely foreign to him despite sharing his voice. His hands shook in his lap as he bounced his knees obsessively and when his eyes dropped down his breath stopped. Blood. Buried beneath his nails. Clinging to his skin, dark and sinister. Perhaps the Spencer of before would’ve brushed it off as anxiety, recognising his body was simply kickstarting whatever self soothing behaviour it could think of to distract itself, but Spencer now only saw blood drawn from his own hands. And it scared him.

Raggedly running his hands through his hair he replayed the spat between the two of you over and over again in his head. Spencer had tried to convince himself that he liked the hair he’d grown, he tried to believe it made him look more mature. He recalled a throwaway comment someone had made about how he ‘looks like a real man now’ and had told himself it was a badge to be proud of. Spencer told himself that maybe people will finally start taking him more seriously now that he looks the part, that the years of being underestimated and dismissed would finally be behind him.

But in reality it drove him positively insane. It was like a piece of Millburn had left with him, keeping him rooted there no matter how far he distanced himself. It drove him crazy the way his image in the mirror morphed into his reflection in the prison glass, his blue inmate clothes growing over his skin like a disease no matter how much he clawed at his body or rubbed his eyes raw. He could barely recognise himself nor could he easily remember how he looked before. Maybe it was dramatic or self pitying but he felt well and truly alien. Millburn had took him in, chewed him up and spat out someone else entirely.

Deep down he knew that you were right. You had a talent for knowing him better than he knew himself most of the time. Logically, he knew he was shutting you out for no good reason other than the fact he’d reached a new, terrifying level of vulnerability he didn’t know how to share with you and so he shut down. Or worse, lashed out. Spencer had tried to shave on his own a couple of times but each time the fear racked through him like a wave, crashing over him ruthlessly and taking his breath away with it. It would always play out the same: he’d stare in the mirror, eyes glassy as he forced himself to move. The blade in his hand felt like it weighed tonnes, anchoring his hand to his side every time he tried and failed to lift it to the mask staring back at him. The first time he’d panicked and given up, the second time he’d cut himself. The blade had clattered to the floor, slipping from shaking hands as he tried to soothe his shuddering breath, his head spinning so fast he thought he might throw up. Spencer hadn’t so much as entertained the idea since.

Truthfully, he felt too embarrassed to let you in. He felt like he was regressing, like Millburn had made him inferior. In an unlikely turn of events Spencer found himself mourning who he was when he was younger. Growing up he’d always thought of himself as wimpy and weak, and he still felt that way even once he’d joined the FBI with him being both the youngest and an exception to the bureau’s typical rules. But that Spencer had survived torture, addiction, poisoning, grief and loss of inexplicable degrees and more. That Spencer raised himself while supporting his mother alone and worked himself to the bone to get to where he was. This Spencer couldn’t even shave his face. He couldn’t help but feel pathetic. He felt he quite literally was not the man he was before and he feared he may never be again- his identity and autonomy had been left behind in that cold, dark cell. As he stared blankly at the wall ahead of him, still sunken into the couch, he recalled a conversation with Emily years ago in which she’d thanked him for being himself and he’d said with gratitude that he didn’t know how to be anyone else. With a lump in his throat, Spencer realised he didn’t even know how to be that anymore.

Eventually, he pulled himself up from the couch and made his way to the bedroom. There you were, in his shirt, curled up on your side with your back to his side of the bed. Your fingers twitched against the pillow and your eyelids fluttered in your sleep, the soft sound of your steady breathing the only sound in the room. You looked peaceful on the surface, but Spencer could see deeper than that. He saw the dark purple beneath your eyes, no doubt the result of the sleepless nights he’d caused you. He noticed how you were sleeping facing away from his pillow where you always used to sleep curled into his side. The glow of the nightlight you’d still cared enough to leave on for him highlighted dried streaks down your cheeks, puffy and flushed from the silent tears you’d shed into your pillow. His throat tightened as he realised just how much you’d sheltered from him and he felt the guilt creeping up through his body. You’d been pleading with him all this time while hiding just how much you were struggling and he’d simply ignored you. Worse, he’d been isolating himself so much he didn’t even notice.

Unbeknownst to him his feet had carried him to the bathroom with a quiet determination that took him by surprise. Frankly, he was fed up with himself and he’d decided it was time. Once again, he found himself planted in front of the mirror, blade in hand, eyes glazed over as he fought with his reflection. Before he could give it a second thought, he watched as his hand came up to his face, felt the cold metal against his skin as he began. Tiny hairs fall to the sink below and the blade keeps moving, repetitive movements propelled by pure muscle memory as Spencer’s consciousness fails him. He is merely a spectator, watching as his limbs move of their own accord and his eyes remain unblinking. The limbs seem to find a rhythm, working out pressure and direction on their own as their host remains stuck in place. After a while Spencer begins to feel himself relax, his eyes water and shake as they regain their focus and his breathing starts to even out. He can feel the weight of the blade in his hand again as it moves and he feels a small twinge of pride, just a small victory, somewhere in his chest.

Just as the feeling began spreading throughout him his hand shook. Just once, but it was enough. He saw it. Thick, red, instant- blood. Spencer didn’t react at first, he simple froze as his eyes followed it trailing down his chin in one clean undeniable line. Slowly, he began to feel the sting in his skin as it grew stronger and stronger, screaming for his attention as he swallowed his pride. With his heartbeat pounding in his ears the world around him seemed muffled, the sounds of cars rushing by outside and voices beneath the window sounded drowned, tortured. His heartbeat travelled from his ears to his throat, from his throat to the tips of his fingers until it was drumming under his skin all over his body.

Almost in slow motion his eyes dropped to his hand, except now he saw a knife and not his razor. There’s a cut on his hand, or at least he thinks there is- he doesn’t remember doing it and he can’t seem to feel it the way he can on his face. Everything feels slow and hazy, blurred around the edges and swaying with every breath he takes. Out of the corner of his eye he thinks he sees something, a lump sprawled out on the tiles. It’s a body, a woman’s body, yet when he turns to face it it’s gone. Trembling, he rubs at his eyes hard, frantically trying to get the truth out of them but to no avail. With panic rising in his throat like bile he turns back towards the mirror, watching the sweat beading on his face mix with the blood and drag it down his neck.

In an instant he’s back there. The laundry room, Luis gasping on the floor behind his reflection. Spencer hears his voice calling for the guards, distant and echoing like it’s not even his, but his lips stay still in the mirror. A stabbing pain shoots through his arm, through his leg and suddenly he’s throwing the razor at the glass as his knees give out beneath him and hit the tiles below. His breath feels caught in his throat and he tugs desperately at the neckline of his shirt, the tear of the stitches cracking like thunder in the silence of the bathroom. A shaking hand moves of its own accord, running through his hair and sinking its fingers into the roots in frustration as Spencer’s eyes clamp shut. He can’t open his eyes, too afraid to face the blood now on his hands, but even the darkness behind his eyelids makes him feel trapped. Before he can stop it, a pained sob leaves his lips as his chest heaves.

Your eyes snap open and your ears prick up almost as fast as you rise to your feet. Not even fully awake yet, you automatically hurry to the bathroom, trying to peak through the gap the doorstop left but you can’t see anything. Carefully you pushed open the door and as your eyes land on him, crumpled in a corner half shaved and bleeding, you felt like your heart was being torn out of your chest. Tears pricked your eyes, fast and hot, but you blinked them back as you took in the scene.

“Spence?” You called out gently, trying to hide the wobble in your voice. He didn’t respond. He didn’t even look up. You try a couple more times, but he doesn’t even seem to hear you.

Taking a deep breath, you move further into the room. You didn’t need to ask. Without a word you pick the blade up off the floor, rinsing it and cleaning the sink before putting it away out of Spencer’s sight. Tentatively, you crouch down to his level, blocking his view of the rest of the room as he finally looks up at you with dazed eyes. You hold back from asking if he’s okay or from asking what happened, afraid of him shutting down again. Instead, you force a small smile, meeting his gaze with a warm expression.

“You didn’t come to bed.” You said softly, watching as he slowly blinked himself into focus.

“I didn’t think you’d want me to.” He croaked back, fingers twitching against his knees as he pulled them up to his chest.

You sighed, wanting to reach out for him but knowing to keep your distance. “Of course I wanted you to.”

He didn’t respond and you let the silence pass between you as you sat cross-legged on the floor opposite him. You watched as his breath deepened and his body stopped shaking. The blood had stopped atop his collar bone and was beginning to dry.

“Why don’t we get you cleaned up and ready for bed, huh?” You suggested lightly, half expecting him to protest but to your relief he nodded. “I’m going to stand up now but I’m not going anywhere, okay? I’m gonna be right here.”

Pushing yourself to your feet, you padded over to the sink and ran a washcloth under the tap. Sitting back down in front of Spencer, you cupped his face with a feather light touch, rubbing a circle over his skin with your thumb before lifting the cloth to his chin. You wiped slowly and gently, careful to keep the rag angled in a way that hid the blood from his view before cleaning his hands. Neither of you spoke, but his eyes fluttered shut with a peaceful sigh as he relaxed into your touch.

“I’m sorry.” Spencer whispered after a while, his voice small and drained.

“We don’t have to talk about it.” You placed the cloth on the floor, still keeping his face in your hands. “At least not right now.”

“We do.” He took your hands in his, lowering them to your lap before letting go. “We should.”

You nodded back at him, leaning back slightly and letting him take the lead. “Okay.”

His brows furrowed in thought as he took a moment to collect himself, staring at the wall over your shoulder. He fidgeted with his hands, wringing them in his lap before licking his lips and turning back to you.

“I was frustrated with myself.” Spencer began, dropping his gaze back to the floor. “I was fed up of having this connection to prison every time I look at myself and being too much of a coward to do anything about it. And I was fed up of taking it out on you. I thought I could handle it but when I cut myself I-“ he paused, “when I saw the blood it-“

“It brought everything back.” You finished for him.

“Yeah.” He sighed. “Everything that happened in Mexico, the things that happened to Luis because of me, the things I did to protect myself. Everything” He swallowed as his voice began to quiver. “And I couldn’t stop thinking about what you said and about how much you were struggling without me even realising. I was spiralling so much that I-“ he cut himself off again, dragging his hands down his face as his voice threatened to break. “I didn’t even realise.”

“Spencer, it’s okay.” You soothed, but he shook his head.

“No, no it’s not.” He lifted his eyes to meet yours. “I shut you out because I was ashamed. I didn’t think I was good enough for you anymore, I didn’t think I was safe for you anymore. I was so scared to touch you, to look at you wrong, to talk to you wrong. I didn’t feel like the man you fell in love with and I was terrified that if I let you in you would realise it too. There was part of me that didn’t want to let you in because I thought you’d leave me, but I think a bigger part of me thought I deserved to be left.”

Tears rolled down his cheeks, matching the ones that had poured down your own. Your heart ached with every word that left his mouth. Hesitantly you reached out a hand, pulling it back for a second before stretching it out again and resting it on his knee, and he let you. You wanted to jump in, you wanted to protest and tell him how wrong he was but you decided to let him continue.

“I just don’t understand why you stayed. I don’t understand why you still went to so much effort for me.” He whispered, recalling everything: the nightlights; the doorstops; the meals, everything you’d done in the shadows to help him adjust.

“Spencer, listen to me.” You said firmly, taking his hands in yours. “I could never regret taking care of you. I want to take care of you.”

He sighed deeply, tilting his head as his brows furrowed in genuine confusion that threatened to pull more tears from your eyes. “Why?”

“Because I love you.” You shrugged, plain and simple. “It’s not transactional. Whether we’re fine or whether we’re fighting, if we’re together or apart- I’m still going to take care of you. I’m still going to love you. Yes I’ve been frustrated and upset but I’m not going to turn my back on you when you’re struggling. Not now, not ever.”

“I don’t feel like I deserve it anymore.” Spencer tries to pull his hands away but you don’t let him.

You flash a tiny smirk at him, bringing one of his hands up to your lips and placing a gentle kiss to it. “Unfortunately that’s not for you to decide.”

“I’m not even sure I know who I am anymore.” He says, voice barely audible.

“Well, I do.” You respond, ducking your head to meet his eyes where they had dropped once again. “You’re Spencer Reid. My Spencer Reid. You’re the man who walked me home from every date even though I lived in the complete opposite direction to you because you wanted me to be safe. You’re the man who gave up your favourite sweater to me and pretended not to care because I said it was cosy.” You paused for a moment, laughing fondly before continuing. “You’re the man who hand picks all the tomatoes out of my instant noodle cups before boiling them just because I don’t like them. You are the single most loving, caring, doting man I have ever met, Spencer.”

“I just-“ He started, trying to keep his voice even. “It’s hard to believe I still am.”

“Hmm.” You hummed, cupping his face and leaning in to stare into his eyes as if you were scanning them. “I still see him in there. We just have to get to him, and I’m going to make sure we do, okay?”

“Okay.” He agreed shyly. “Thank you. So much.”

With a reassuring smile you moved your hand along his face, running it over the shaved half before switching to the stubble that still sat on his chin.

“Do I look ridiculous?” Spencer asked, the corners of his lips finally tugging upwards.

“Handsome as ever.” You giggled back. “Do you want me to help you finish it?”

As soon as you ask you noticed the way he shrank into himself, still unsure. He drew his lips into a line, breath hitching with hesitation at the thought of the razor touching his face again.

“I’ll be careful, I promise.” You push gently. “You can keep your eyes on me the whole time.”

Wordlessly, he agreed with the slightest nod of his head, gingerly rising to his feet as you followed suit. You led him over to the sink, lightly guiding him to sit on its edge with his back to the mirror. You grabbed the razor and some shaving balms from the cabinet before returning to stand between his legs. Like you were holding something fragile you took his face in your hands again, pressing a kiss to the shaved side of his face.

“Are you ready?” You asked quietly.

His hands found your waist, fingers bunching in your shirt as if to ground himself. “Yes.”

Spencer’s eyes never left your face as you worked, never drifted to the blade in your hand that now seemed so much more insignificant than it did in his. You moved delicately and precisely, taking the utmost care all the while murmuring words of reassurance between strokes. You felt his breath against your neck as he exhaled all his worries, his posture relaxing under the warmth of your skin on his. Soon after, like it was nothing, you were finished.

“You wanna take a look, handsome?” You asked, resting your hands on his shoulders.

“I um,” he began, grip tightening on your waist momentarily. “I think I’ll take your word for it for now.”

“Of course.” You nodded in understanding, helping him up with a smile. “Can you please come to bed now? It was lonely in there without my favourite pillow.”

With a breathy laugh, Spencer took your hand and followed you into the bedroom. That night you fell asleep side by side, curled into one another as if made from matching moulds just the way you used to. Of course this was just one bump in the road, the path to readjustment was unfortunately never going to be so simple. But as you fell asleep with his arm wrapped around you, his nose buried in your hair as he held you blissfully tight, you knew it would be the last bump he faced alone.

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