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#i am once again asking for my anxiety to leave me alone

mingihttps · 24 days

Text

21 questions

bang chan x fem!reader

you want chan by your side when having a panic attack but he won't answer your calls. thankfully han is there to distract you until chan finally comes home.

wc: >800

warnings: established relationship, angsts, hurt/comfort, panic attacks, crying, hyperventilating, self harm (hair pulling), pet names (baby, babygirl, my love, sweetheart), a couple cuss words

"the number you have dialed is-" i hit the red button on my phone screen with shaking hands. i've lost count of how many times i've tried to call chan in the past hour. my sobs and uneven breaths echo off the walls of my bedroom and reach my ears twice as loud. my boyfriend not answering my calls when i need him just makes the tears run down my face faster. my thoughts are running a thousand miles a second. going from feeling so alone to feeling like my own boyfriend hates me. it's getting harder and harder to breathe by the second as it feels like the room is getting smaller. then, suddenly, the sound of the dorm room closing and heavy footsteps are ringing in my ears. based on the loud rhythm of the footsteps, i can tell that they don't belong to chan. i tuck my head between my knees and tightly thread my fingers in my hair as a way to ground myself and, hopefully, keep myself quiet. i don't want whoever it is that entered the dorm to know that I'm having a panic attack for who knows what fucking reason at this point. i can hear the footsteps getting louder as they get closer and closer to my lover's room that i've been hiding in ever since they left for practice this morning. i tug on my hair harder as my tears or faster as the footsteps stop on the other side of the door. there is a gentle knock that sounds three times louder than what it probably was. i put a hand over my mouth to make sure no sobs came out, which is fruitless since whoever is at the door already knows I'm in here.

"y/n... can i come in?" i hold back A choked sob, which only makes my breathing more shallow. why had han come home? were the others on the way? god, I hope so. "y/n? i know you probably want channie-hyung but he won't be home for another hour... so can i please come in?" now that i know han heard me crying there's no point in trying to keep quiet. i uncover my mouth and let all of my shaky breaths be heard by han through the door. han quickly moves to open the bedroom door and make his way to me. "shit." i hear him mutter under his breath once he sees the state that i'm in, hyperventilating and shaking as i hold myself for comfort.

"what happened?" he whispers affectionately as he sits beside me on the bed and takes my other hand out of my hair gently.

"i don't know anymore." i said, truthfully and quietly, but han still heard me.

"that's okay sweetheart, you don't have to know," he whispers once again while smoothing down my hair, "wanna play a game?"

i look at han with teary eyes questioningly. "what game?" i sniffled.

"how about 21 questions?" han smiled down at me with practically pleading eyes.

i wipe my eyes and nod my head. i know he's just trying to distract me from my anxiety, but who am i to say no.

"okay, i'll start, what's your favorite color?"

"han, you already know that"

"just answer!" i teasingly shake my head before answering the question and asking my own. i don't know when, but han must have texted chan and told him that i was crying because a few minutes into the game, i hear the front door slam shut and someone calling my name. the bedroom door opens quickly, revealing my boyfriend.

"i'm so sorry, babygirl, are you okay?" chan says as he wraps his arms around my shoulders and kisses the top of my head.

"it's okay channie, i know you're busy," i reassure him as i wrap my arms around his torso, "hannie helped me calm down"

"i know, he texted me, i'm sorry i wasnt here sooner, baby" chan apologizes again.

"i'm going to end this game of 21 questions here, then" han says as he gets off the bed with a stretch and leaves to go to his own room.

"you hungry at all, baby?" chan asks and i shake my head.

"i am tired, though" i whisper as i lay down in the bed.

"then let's take a nap, my love" my boyfriend whispered back as he lays down beside me.

requests are open !!

reposted from my old account

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sunny44 · 10 months

Text

I promised you

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x fiancée!reader

Warnings: mentions of Charles father, google translated French

Summary: Charles and Y/n have known each other since they were kids, the relationship grows and they’re about to get married. The wedding day is already very emotional but Charles does something to makes everything way better.

The part in italics is the flashback.

Married.

That’s what is was getting today.

Charles and I have known each other all our lives, we have been best friends since we were kids.

We have been dating since forever, had all our first times with each other, and I believe we are soul mates.

I remember the first time we met and also the first time he said we would get married. We were 7 years old at the time and he was playing with his Ferraris cars while I was organizing my bracelets in a little box that I had gotten from his mother.

"Charles, give me back." I kept trying to get the bracelet but every time I got close he took it off. "Charlie."

"I'm not giving it back."

"It's my favorite bracelet, you'll ruin it."

"I'm only giving it back to you when we get married."

"That will take a long time, we're small yet."

"Then when we get bigger we'll get married and then I'll give you the bracelet back." I huffed giving up taking it and sat back down on the fluffy carpet in the living room.

"You look so beautiful." My mother says behind me fixing my veil.

"Thank you mom."

In the room where I was getting ready was my mom, Charles' mom, Lily, Lorenzo's girlfriend Charlotte, Arthur's girlfriend Carla, and Elena.

"You had already looked beautiful when we went to pick the dress but you look perfect now" Charlotte says and smiles at them.

"Do you guys really think it looks good?”

"Of course, you are the most beautiful bride I have ever seen. You look like came straight out of a bridal magazine." Lily holds my hand and smiles.

"It will all work out, you are perfect for each other."

I start to get nervous and tears start to come out of my eyes and the anxiety starts to make me breathless.

"Honey, breathe."

"Can I talk to him? Please." My mother agrees and they all leave the room leaving me alone.

"Babe." I hear his voice from the door.

"Hi."

"Are you okay, your mom said you wanted to talk to me."

"I'm getting nervous and out of breath." He opens a crack in the door and puts his hand inside.

"Hold my hand." He says and at the same time I take his hand intertwining our fingers. "Now take a deep breath."

I started to take a deep breath and dried up tears with a handkerchief.

"It will be okay, in a little while you will walk down the aisle and I will be there waiting for you and crying from seeing how beautiful you will look." I laughed at his line. "I love you and nothing is going to change that so just take a deep breath and I promise I will be there waiting for you, I’m not going anywhere."

We stood there for about 10 more minutes until he had to go because the time was coming, I heard a knock on the door and allowed the entrance watching Pescale enter.

"Your father is already waiting so I won't take up too much of your time, not least because I am anxious for you to marry my baby boy." I laughed at her anxiety and she took my hands. "I know it's your wedding but I wanted to ask you something."

"Sure."

"When Harvé and I got married I gave him this gold watch and I wanted to ask you to take it down the aisle with you and give it to Charles, we both know how much he wanted his father to be here to see this and I wanted him to have a part of his father along with him." And once again I was crying. "I dear don’t cry, you'll ruin your makeup.”

"I will, I will." I smiled and she dried my tears.

"Thank you, dear. And thank you for taking such good care of him."

"Thank you for making him." She laughs.

"Ready?" my father appears in the doorway and I agree. "You look so beautiful."

"Thanks dad."

...

We were positioned waiting for the door to open, I was with my arm intertwined with my father's when the music started to play, Charlie didn't know but I had chosen AUS23 to play while I enter and I could see his surprised face with the music but soon his look of or on me and I could see the most beautiful smile I’ve e er seen in my life.

Everyone was standing as I walked over to him, when we got there my father shook his hand and whispered something before handing me over to Charles.

"You look beautiful." He says and I smile.

"You look beautiful too." I hold his hand and hand the watch to Charles who instantly recognized it and looked at his mother who smiled. "I know you really wish he was here because I feel the same way, but I know he is taking care of us and that he is happy."

“I'm sure of it."

And then the priest starts with the usual speech.

"I Charles Marc Harvé Perceval Leclerc take you, Y/n Y/l/n as my lawful wife. To love and respect you, in sickness and in health, in wealth and in poverty until death do us part."

“I Y/n Y/l/n take you, Charles Marc Harvé Perceval Leclerc as my lawful wedded husband. To love and respect you, in sickness and in health, in wealth and in poverty till death do us part."

"I pronounce you husband and wife, you may kiss the bride." At this he holds my face kissing me and I could hear the shouts of celebration from everyone making me smile in the middle of the kiss.

"I have something to give you." He says as soon as he separates but with his forehead still glued to mine. "Here."

He pulls something from his wrist and I see that same bracelet he stole from me years ago.

"Charlie."

"I said I'd give it back when we got married and I keep my promises." I smiled through tears as he taped it to my wrist. “And when I said to you that I’m not going anywhere I mean it. You are the love of my life and I love you with all my heart.

“I love you more Charlie and I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life by your side.” He smiles taking my hand next and we walked to the exit of the church to finally start ours lives together.

Bonus scene!

Y/nleclerc instagram post

Liked by @charlesleclerc and other 1938292

@y/nleclerc and here are some of my favorite pictures of the best day of my life, I still can’t believe it that your my husband and that were going to spend the last of our lives together.

I can’t wait to start our family and to grow old with you, you are the best thing that ever happened to me and I’m thankful everyday for you.

Je t'aime pour toujours Charlie (I love you forever Charlie).

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gay-dorito-dust · 2 months

Note

Can we have more of domestic Jason but now with him needy of touch? 🥹

the reader got out of bed early to go drink water and he wakes up from a nightmare needing her and he thinks she left him and he starts crying in panic, but then she appears and calm him down with kisses, words of affirmation and lots of love.

Thank u! I love ur writing btw!!

I don’t know if this is what you have in mind, the ending might be a little half-assed but I was half asleep whilst making this 🦦also thank you for enjoying my writing! It really means a lot!

Your side of the bed had barely gone cold which indicated that it hadn’t been long ago that you had left but it was the reason why you’ve left that haunted Jason, who was fresh out of a nightmare and drenched in his own sweat and finding difficulty in calming his uneven breaths.

He had meant to reach out to you for comfort.

Only to be greeted by air just as palm of his hand then hit the lukewarm mattress below.

It was enough to break Jason’s resolve as his innate belief that everyone he ever cared for was destined to leave him- especially you- began to worsen with every passing second the longer Jason allowed himself to be poisoned by the possibilities that you were gone. Disappeared. Or worse yet; taken.

‘Y/n?’ He calls out softly.

‘Baby?’ He tries again, a little louder this time, not having realised that his eyes had started to tear up and blur his vision of his dark room, or that a lump in his throat had started to form, making it difficult for him to swallow down his overwhelming anxiety.

‘Don’t leave me here…please don’t leave me all lone.’ Jason pleads with the darkness of his room as though that would be enough to give you back to him. ‘Haven’t I done that enough?’ He then asks as he clenched the bedsheets between his powerful hands, trying to bound himself to something to combat his discomfort in being left alone with his mind for too long. ‘Being left alone when I was proven too difficult to save? Too far gone to be helped? Am I just that broken to be given just a sliver of happiness?’ He cries out at he pressed the palms of his hands into his eyes as he chocked back his own sobs.

Despite building himself a strong body that could endure punishment, the pain of that of an broken heart had been so excruciating it had Jason keeling over in bed, wanting nothing more then to tear it out of his chest as though it burned him; Or was it in fact just phantom pains from a heart that had been hollowed out by the hands of another.

The door to the room opened and golden light flooded in, eradicating the darkness that threatened to swallow him whole. ‘Jason?’ Your voice called out and Jason never felt more alive than he did in hearing you say his name in that angelic voice of yours, so much so that he didn’t notice that he had begun to cry harder but out of relief this time. ‘I thought- I thought you left. I couldn’t feel you. I tried reaching for you but you weren’t there.’ He began to say but was cut off when you brought him tightly into your arms.

‘Im sorry that I kept you waiting my beautiful boy.’ You cooed as your fingers reached up to comb through his hair, nails scratching at his scalp now and then to assure him of your presence. Jason didn’t hesitate to bring you into his lap as he buried his head deep into your shoulder, wiping his tears against your sleep shirt, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care when he was holding onto you as though you were bound to disappear once he lets go. ‘Where did you go?’ He asks. ‘I got a little thirsty and so I went to get a drink of water.’ You explained, kissing him anywhere that was made available to you.

‘You’ve been strong for a long, long time and I’ve never been more prouder of you for holding out as long as you have with everything you’ve been through, it never fails to amaze me how resilient you are Jaybirdie.’ You felt his breathing even out as he began to lean back into the bed, still holding onto you. ‘You’re truly an incredible man for being able to stand on your own two feet and still find it within yourself to fight.’ You softly told him as you continued to hold him in your arms as he squeezed your waist in response. ‘I’m so unbelievably lucky to have someone like you in my life and I will do everything in my power to make you believe that.’ You promised him.

‘Even if it’s impossible and might take forever.’ Jason says, starting to feel the lull of sleep as it began to weigh heavily on his eyelids.

You smile softly, pressing a kiss to his cheek. ‘Even if it takes an eternity I would still find a way to prove just how beautiful you are.’ You replied, nuzzling into him as his bodily warmth began to ease you into a sense of security. ‘You are the most beautiful man I have ever met Jason Todd.’ You moved to look him in the eyes. ‘A butterfly may not be able to see the colour of their wings but that doesn’t retract the fact that they’re undeniably beautiful.’ You added as you pressed a couple of kissed to his forehead. ‘Now gets some sleep my beautiful boy, I’ll be here when you wake up.’

‘You promise?’ Jason asked, biting back a yawn.

‘I’d be stupid to break a promise I made to you.’ You responded, thinking all was said and done when Jason brought a hand up to your face, showing you his outstretched pinky. ‘Pinky promise me that you’ll be here with me when I wake up.’ He says and you smile softly at the inherent innocence of that of a pinkie promise but still went ahead and linked your pinky with his, pressing a kiss to his calloused and scarred hand with reverence before resting it on his chest. ‘I pinky promise that I’ll be here when you wake up. Was that good?’

‘We’ll see in the morning when I get to wake up to you chipmunk.’ Jason replied, holding you more against his chest and fell asleep but you weren’t complying as you soon followed him into dreamland, your pinkies still linked to one another as a reminder of your promise.

#jason todd imagine #jason todd fluff #jason todd x reader #jason todd imagines #jason todd fanfic #jason todd fanfiction #jason todd fic #dc x y/n #dc x you #dc comics x reader #dc x reader #dc imagine #dc fic #dc fanfic #dc fanfiction

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astraystayyh · 4 months

Text

Echoes of love

"to love someone is firstly to confess; i am prepared to be devastated by you."

Chapter ii. to remember

genre : memory loss trope. angst. slow burn. unrequited love except you were in a loving relationship and everything changes overnight.

pairing : minho x reader. (3racha cameo)

summary : if given the choice would you love minho again? yes, you would've once said in a heartbeat. but now, you aren't sure of your response anymore.

cw : depiction of a nightmare and anxiety attack. allusion to mc having a bad family history with alcohol. suggestive in the end (allusion to sex but no smut). reader had she/her pronouns.

word count : 11k words.

song recs : the night we met/terrible love/black friday/cover me/already gone/enough.

chapter i. skz quotes series masterlist.

A.N: PT. 2 IS HERE!!!! i hope you'll enjoy this one, she's my baby and i put so much work and thought into her, so feedback is highly highly appreciated!!! thank you to my @forlix for being with me every step of this journey, i love u the most<33

Day 33.

With a gentle, absentminded sweep, your fingers trace the delicate contours of your wrist, a faint dance with the pulse beneath your skin– the cocoon of the soul you’re gradually growing accustomed to. It is a trying task, you've found out, to no longer yearn to flee from your body, leaving the weight of your worries for your bones and flesh alone to bear.

A subtle fragrance floats in the air surrounding you- the familiar gardenia and honey tones of your sweet perfume. It is a scent you reserve for special occasions, such as this one- your first date, in three months according to the world, in more than a year for your memory.

You swiftly retrieve a mirror from your pouch, checking your appearance for the tenth time in mere minutes. Your nude lipstick is still, unsurprisingly, in place, and you smile reassuringly at your reflection. She smiles back, though sometimes you half-expect her not to. In defiance, perhaps, maybe even repulse.

The melodious chime of the café's bell captures your attention, and the man you've been awaiting finally enters. He confidently strides in, clad in a blue polo and black slacks, an evident effort poured into his appearance.

Standing before you, his warm, gleaming eyes meet yours, effortlessly melting your lingering worries. You smile at him, he beams at you.

“Did I keep you waiting?” Changbin, your date, asks as he pulls the chair adjacent to you.

“No, just in time.”

Two weeks ago.

Day 17.

“Use me. Use me to remember,” Minho whispers, the distance between your lips resembling the thin edge of a blade.

You close your eyes, the world narrowing down to the sound of your heartbeat, a rhythmic drum drowning out any attempt at coherent thoughts. Kiss him, your heart chants, kiss him and all your memories will flood back. But what if they don't? What if the abyss persists before the brightest beam of light?

A tender kiss lands on your forehead, gently interrupting your tumultuous thoughts. Minho’s lips are as warm, as soft as you remember them. They're now imprinted into your skin, no longer a hazy memory beyond your reach.

His hands cradle your hair, smoothing it down, making the ringing in your ears soften. You surrender to his gentle embrace, to the soft tide of emotions rippling from him to you, pulling your wounded soul to safe shores.

“You need to forgive yourself,” he whispers, his words echoing against your skin, lips still pressed to your forehead. A rush of warmth overwhelms you, all your senses coming to life, ringing the alarm- he sees you, he sees through you.

“None of this is your fault,” he assures, a sudden cooling balm against your scorching wounds. These are the words you've been aching to hear. You didn't know, but Minho did, reading between the lines of your quivering lips and your reluctance to look into his eyes.

He knows you better than you know yourself.

“Don’t blame yourself, please.”

“But all I do is hurt people,” you confess, tears streaming down your face like a relentless downpour, soaking Minho's hands.

You expect punishment to strike you, bolting lighting aiming straight for your heart as you finally admit to your biggest sin- the shadow of sorrow that trails your every step. It is the way it has always been since you were a child. It is what you fled from.

What you don't expect is for tenderness to cradle you instead— in Minho's warm hand as he gently guides you to his chest, your ear resting above his steady heartbeat. Its rhythmic cadence akin to a lullaby- you shouldn't apologize for existing, you hear it sing to you.

“If you need forgiveness, I’ll give that to you. you’re forgiven, okay? I forgive you. Today and tomorrow. I'll forgive you until you'll forgive yourself.”

“Okay,” you nod, muffled words against the fabric of his shirt.

“Now, will you please come back with me? The cats will miss you a lot if you don’t,” he suggests, pressing his cheek onto the crown of your head.

“I don't want to leave them,” you reply in a small voice, dewdrops gathering in your eyes at the thought of running again.

“You don’t have to. It’s your home too.”

“Okay,” you sigh in acceptance, relief, encircling his waist with your arms. He is all inviting, like an open book, and you're resting between his pages, scribbled with love confessions for you.

The world stills, waves slowing their relentless crash against the shore, as you draw in a deep breath from the pits of your soul. You don't remember all you’ve once felt for Minho. But you know it must have been safe, like stumbling upon a haven and then learning it was specially carved for you.

“I miss you, Minho.”

“I know, I miss you too.”

Day 19.

“Minho, can you come to the kitchen please?” your voice reverberates through the house, weaving through the air and reaching the bedroom where Minho has been ensnared, his less-than-graceful complaints echoing loudly for the past hour. You had sealed him within without explanation, only making him promise not to leave the room until you told him to, much to his dismay, and deep down, amusement.

He chuckles lowly to himself as he rises from the bed, before making his way to the kitchen. There, he finds you near the doorway, hands concealed behind your back, dusty flour adorning your cheek like an artist’s absentminded paint stroke.

“So…,” you trail off and Minho smiles, crossing his arms before his chest.

“So?”

“A situation may have happened.”

“Which situation?” he inquires amusedly, attempting to peer past you into the kitchen. Your extended arms block his view.

“You know how I got a concussion from the car accident,” you ask.

“I do.”

“I think it may have affected my cooking abilities.”

“But you didn't have any to begin with?” he muses, tilting his head to the side innocently.

“Shut up,” you playfully admonish before clasping your hands in a silent plea. “Will you help me?”

“Mm, what are you making?” he inquires, leaning against the doorway.

“Pudding.”

“Pudding?”

“For you.”

“Oh.”

A blush creeps up Minho’s neck as he grapples to find a reply, his surprised gasp hanging into the air. You giggle faintly, entertained by his sudden speech impairment.

In response, Minho takes a step forward, delicately brushing away the flour on your cheek, his thumb hovering near the corner of your mouth. “How did this get here?”

“Huh?” you sputter, pink splashing across your cheeks like spilled Rosé.

Minho is testing your waters, dipping one toe in, hoping he’ll find your reassuring embrace lurking beneath the surface. Did you blush from the heat of the stove or his touch? Minho doesn’t know. Minho needs to find out.

“And you also forgot this,” he lightly pouts, reaching over your head to the hanger behind you, caging you between his arms.

He’s sacrificing his heart, placing it on the frontlines of hurt once again. Yet, when you look up at him, dewy eyes flickering to his lips, Minho feels a single match lighten up in his core, not enough to burn all his doubts. But enough to signal hope.

Hope is a perilous possession, akin to cradling a fragile glass that threatens to shatter at the slightest tremor. Hope is the only thread Minho can now hang onto.

“You forgot your apron,” he finally says, withdrawing two aprons from the hanger. He drapes one over your head before placing a hand on your shoulder, gently turning you around. He silently ties the strings into a ribbon, his fingers brushing against your spine. He can distinctly remember the feel of your bare skin beneath his fingertips, silky, smooth, intoxicating.

“There, a pretty knot,” he whispers, not moving back an inch, waiting for you to swivel around. Yet, you remain silent, undoing your hair from its loose ponytail. Your hair cascades over your shoulders, resembling the unveiling of curtains, and Minho senses something unfurling in the depths of his stomach.

“Tie it for me?” you whisper, handing him the hair tie without looking back. Your fingertips brush against each other, and Minho inhales deeply.

“Sure,” he says, voice thick with emotion, he needs to drink water. He needs to drink you in.

He gathers your hair strands in another low ponytail, trembling hands as they brush against the nape of your neck, akin to powerless leaves before the autumn breeze. He’s close, so close to you, so much his chest almost brushes against your back.

As soon as he’s done, Minho swiftly steps back before doing something he’ll surely regret, like placing a tender kiss on your shoulder, or worse, confessing that he misses the simple act of brushing your hair at night.

“So, pudding,” he clears his throat, rolling up the sleeves of his white hoodie. your eyes follow his movement, lingering on the veins protruding on his forearms. Minho feels a bit foolish for wanting to flex for you.

“It’s really easy actually. bring me two eggs?”

“Sure,” you grin, heading for the fridge as Minho retrieves sugar from the cupboard, throwing away the odd liquid mixture you managed to conjure.

You stand beside Minho, eyebrows furrowed as he explains why the milk needs to be brought to a boil before adding the cornstarch, or how adding the vanilla at the very end will help preserve its flavor. You listen intently, nodding along, and the tension between you dispels, leaving place for something comforting, familiar– you’re erasing the remnants of his sobs, the sight of him crumbling over the green kitchen tiles.

“Let's leave it to chill,” he finally says, closing the fridge’s door.

“Okay,” you nod, packing away the butter. Minho leans against the countertop, an ember of curiosity ablaze at the tip of his tongue

“Why did you want to make pudding?” he asks and you freeze in place.

“To see if I’m capable of not being a lost cause,” you respond playfully but the undertones of your voice indicate otherwise- laden, charged. One more match that you could light up?

“Really?” he says softly, taking one step toward you.

“No,” you giggle faintly and he nods, a gentle smile unfurling on his face, gradual as the eclipse of a moon.

“It was supposed to be your birthday gift. That's why I locked you in the room. I even bought little birthday hats for the cats, silly I know, and very late, but, turns out I’m a horrible-”

“I wanna see the birthday hats,” he cuts you off.

“Really? They’re really ugly.”

“It's my birthday gift, right?”

Five minutes later, you and Minho are seated on the floor, legs crisscrossed, three perplexed cats before you, and on their heads, obnoxiously neon green hats.

“They look so…” you tilt your head, assessing the view before you.

“Stupid?” Minho suggests, eliciting a startled snort from you that swiftly transforms into an almost maniac cackle, which in turn, catches Minho off guard. He gazes at you bewilderedly before succumbing to a fit of giggles, which intensifies your laughter, as you punctuate his shoulder with light hits, tears streaming down your face in an attempt to regain composure.

One hundred matches light up in Minho’s heart at the sight, all at once.

“My God, they look so stupid, I’m so sorry,” you laugh harder, your body collapsing to the ground, hands tightly clutching your stomach.

They can laugh again, the house sighs in relief, something other than sobs can still echo within my walls.

Day 22.

“I miss the sea,” you sigh softly, cradling a cup of chamomile tea between your hands. Minho, absorbed in his book, glances up to find a melancholic expression etched on your face—a poignant blend of sorrow and longing that he knows weighs heavy on your heart.

“We saw it over at the bridge, no?” he ventures tentatively, setting the book aside on the living room table.

“Yes, but I miss the sand, and the waves lapping at my feet. I miss feeling the sea, not just seeing it.”

“I’d take you, in a heartbeat,” he says assuredly, ready to bring you the moon if only you dare ask. “But it's far, and you can't get into a car.”

“I can try.”

“You can?” he questions, hope budding in his eyes.

“I mean- I want to, it's just… I don't know,” you retract, nails drumming anxiously against your cup, gaze lost into the amber liquid.

“Talk to me, yeah?” he smiles softly, draping a reassuring hand on your arm. His thumb swipes across the slate of your shoulder, and an impossible knot in your throat untangles.

“The accident took a lot from me. My health, my memories, a year of moving forward.” You quiet down, eyes meeting his in a barely veiled vulnerability. Silence speaks of your hardest loss— him.

“Can you help me get the sea back?”

Minho’s radiant smile is louder than any spoken agreement.

…

Thread by thread, drop by drop, your fears unravel as Minho lowers all the car windows’ before gently guiding you into the car seat, dispelling any prospect of feeling confined within the vehicle.

He remembers everything, even the panic that gripped your being when you went into his enclosed car, nearly a month ago.

“Can I blindfold you? It might help, so you wouldn't see the car lights since it’s night,” he suggests.

“Yeah, that'd be nice,” you agree, your hand lightly gripping the car seat.

“Hey, hey,” he calls out gently, “I'm here, okay? The second you feel overwhelmed I'm stopping this car.”

“Will you drive safely?”

“Of course. I promise you.”

Your nod is met with the softening of Minho's eyes, as he delicately tucks a strand of your hair behind the curve of your ear.

“I'm proud of you,” he whispers, tone laden with so much tenderness, love, that your throat becomes a garden, vocal cords bound not by thorns but the delicate blossoming of flowers.

With a gentle touch, Minho wraps a tie around your eyes, cocooning you in a tranquil darkness. His hand seeks yours instinctively, fingers intertwining with yours akin to the wind weaving through the strands of your hair.

In this moment, every fracture within you is delicately filled by Minho.

He starts driving, a soothing piano instrumental playing out of the car’s speakers- his hand still in yours. “Breathe,” he murmurs, his thumb tracing a soothing path across your palm.

“Follow my touch.” A gentle sweep to the right, an invitation to inhale slowly. “In,” his voice guides, and you draw in a deep breath.

Another caress to the left, a silent directive to release your confined breath. “Out,” he whispers, and you exhale, surrendering to the rhythm orchestrated by his thumb.

He raises the music’s volume, his touch becoming a maestro, speaking silently to you. You’re grateful for it, for the way in which he’s driving- avoiding curbs and speeding, safely, making the wheels float across the road.

Your heart still constricts in your chest, anxiety squeezing your veins, bleeding them dry, but you focus on Minho’s thumb, you let it guide you, like a compass navigating the dark tunnels of your heart.

“We're almost there,” he reassures as he stops by a red light.

“I look silly, right?” you reply, giggling a bit.

“What?” he asks, confused.

“I can feel you looking,” you clarify.

“How so?”

“My right cheek is tingling.”

Minho snorts incredulously. “What does that even mean?”

“You have a piercing stare. You're like melting through my skin and vibrating my bones.”

“Idiot,” he chuckles. My my my idiot, Minho grieves to say once again. The human heart is peculiar, he learns day after day, mourning the loss of a myriad of minuscule things, even words.

“And, you don't look silly,” he clears his throat minutes later, as he finally parks by the beach.

“You look pretty,” he utters, unraveling your blindfold, and you blink, caught between the sudden light and the weight of his words. “You always do,” he concludes, a whispered confession that lingers like the afterglow of a sunset, painting your world in golden hues.

“Minho, I…” you trail off, eyes landing on the vast sea ahead, blending into the sky in an alluring shade of turquoise. “We're here!” you shout bewildered, a magnificent grin on your face.

“We are,” Minho smiles, drinking in the delight in your expression.

“Oh my god I missed the sea!” you giggle as you undo your seatbelt, quickly opening the car’s door and taking off running.

Minho follows closely behind, captivated, as he watches you glide across the shore, the sand ricocheting off the soles of your shoes. You look like a fairy, bending the wind to your will, coaxing it into a choreography that mirrors the rhythm of your movements, your messy footprints marking your pathway to happiness once again.

Upon the sand, you finally settle down, and Minho walks over, sitting beside you. Both of you quietly gaze ahead, entranced by the moon's silver glow caressing the water’s surface. Each shimmering wave resembles glistening diamonds, a celestial mirror reflecting the lights in the sky.

“Have I ever told you why I love the sea?” you speak after a while, tone softer, more content.

“You did.”

“Can I tell you again?” you say. Can I tell you what I still remember? He understands.

“Of course.”

"There was a beach near our home, back then," you reminisce, a nostalgic aura enveloping your words. “And whenever I felt lonely I used to go there and watch the waves, to calm me down. But, one time, I was really overwhelmed so I ended up crying. And then, coincidentally, it started raining too.”

Your eyes widen slightly, a hint of amusement in your voice. “At that moment, I chuckled at the timing, how the sky was crying with me.”

“Ever since that day, I liked to believe that the sea is made up of the sky’s tears, the ones that fell in sync with those of humans, so it'd comfort us. And the tears grew from a pond to a river, to a vast ocean, as humans cried more and more. That's why sometimes the sea’s waters are gentle because those are tears of happiness falling somewhere. Sometimes they're stormy, since someone is crying out of anger. Sometimes they're melancholic, just relentlessly crashing against the shore, because someone is in pain. Like we are.”

A tranquil hush falls over the night as you quiet down, before turning around to meet Minho’s teary eyes, mirroring yours.

“And if the sea persists through tempests and tranquility, if it goes on despite the myriad of emotions it holds within, then so will we.”

Hope isn't fragile, as Minho once believed. Hope scrapes its bloody palms against the rough surface as it climbs defiantly to the pinnacle once again. Hope picks out rugged stones with weathered hands and builds a home out of them. Hope is strong, it clutches onto the thinnest threads so we’d endure and endure once more. As many times as we need to.

“Well, the sky isn't crying right now,” Minho notes.

“I know,” you smile softly, “Because we're holding on to hope.”

Day 26.

Under the soft glow of the TV, Dori settles comfortably on your shoulders, nuzzling her tiny nose onto your face every now and then. Soonie and Doongie are a bit far away, playing with a piece of yarn, captivated by its vibrant red threads.

It is an ordinary, comforting setting to watch a movie with Minho, on a Sunday night, a bowl of popcorn nestled on his lap while his cats lounge around. So familiar that the world around you blurs, like the vague brushes of an impressionist painting— a vivid déjà-vu sensation clinging to your body. You’ve lived this scene before. You want to live it again, now and in the future. More and more.

However something is different— your skin tingles, a buzzing sensation that travels from thigh to knee to hand, as if your body knows that something’s amiss. Minho’s touch perhaps, his palm casually resting upon your skin.

You don’t know where this urge is coming from— to lay your head on his shoulder, to have him run his fingers through your hair. Even more, to lose yourself in the nutmeg and peppermint notes of his cologne, to disintegrate your worries into his hold and rest.

“Would you mind if some of my friends came over?” Minho speaks up suddenly, cutting off your trailing train of thought.

“Hm?” you hum absentmindedly before clearing your throat. “I mean, no, I don't mind. Who are they?”

“Han and Chan. They’ve been asking about you for a while now.”

“Sure, this is your home.”

“It is yours too,” he says, gaze locking onto yours. His eyes are like a dark tapestry woven with threads of stardust- you’d never tire of looking into them, into the universe they seem to cradle within.

Do you know that there is a galaxy inside you? You almost slip out, words in an urgent race against your mind. You barely stop them at the tip of your tongue, before smiling and peeling your eyes away from his, painfully, like scratching a burn scab long before it heals.

…

“They’re here,” Minho announces as someone knocks on the door.

“Okay,” you smile, a tad nervous. You’re not even sure what for.

“If they annoy you too much tell me, I’ll kick them out,” he reassures, raising his brows playfully at you.

“That's mean,” you giggle, albeit soothed by his words.

“They already love you,” he grabs your wrist, his thumb gently swiping over your pulse. “No need to be worried.”

He drops it, as though a countdown is ingrained into his brain— never to touch you for more than ten seconds. Wouldn't it be selfish, pathetic even, to ask him for more?

As Minho heads to open the door, you linger in the living room, idly fidgeting with the hem of your sweatshirt. It is a weird circumstance to greet strangers who know you— you may have brushed against their shoulders in an alley and not known who they were.

Your thoughts dissolve as two men saunter into the living room, stopping in their tracks once their eyes land on you. They’re both beautiful– that is the first thing you note, closely followed by how relieved they seem to see you. Simultaneous soft sighs escape them, gentle smiles blooming across their faces. Tentatively, you return the gesture.

Minho takes the initiative to introduce them. “Yn. This is Chan,” he points to the man on the right, clad in black from head to toe, his smile grows wider, his eyes disappearing into moon crescents, two dimples peeking gleefully on his cheeks.

“And Han,” the younger man, sporting a Supreme t-shirt despite the cold, beams at you, highlighting his round cheeks, and an adam-apple that weirdly resembles a heart.

“I want to hug you but Minho put us on a strict no-touch notice because of your ribs,” Han speaks first, a small pout tugging at his lips as he glances at Minho, who simply rolls his eyes at his words.

“You can never keep something for yourself,” Minho sighs, rubbing the space between his eyebrows. You stifle an amused giggle.

“And she technically doesn’t remember us so it’d be weird for her to hug a stranger,” Chan notes, offering you an understanding smile.

“Hey, I didn’t mean it in a creepy way! more of ‘Oh my god I’m so happy you’re alive, thank you for still being here, I was so worried about you’.”

“But were you worried?” you ask, tilting your head to the side.

“Of course, I-”

“Then why weren’t you at my bedside?” you question, an eyebrow raised, and Minho chuckles at your words.

“W-what?” Han asks, glancing worriedly at the two men by his side.

“Why weren’t you there sobbing when I woke up? It doesn’t look like you were worried,” you muse, throwing a wink to Minho who walks over to you.

“Right, you should’ve sent her a pic of you crying,” Minho adds, as you drape a hand on his shoulder.

“A picture for every day you didn’t come see me,” you say solemnly as Han’s face grows paler by the second.

“I-I didn’t, I really was worried, I swear, I kept asking Minho every day about you and…” he trails off as giddy smiles break out on your face and Minho’s before you both burst out laughing.

“You guys are evil,” Han laments, as Chan pats his back in faux sympathy, a string of giggles falling from his full lips.

“I’m sorry. we made you dinner to make up for it,” you grin and Minho looks at you pointedly.

“He made you dinner,” you correct with a huff, and Minho smiles, satisfied, raising his brows smugly at his two friends.

“Let’s choose a movie then!” Han claps, turning to the TV as Minho sidles by his side.

“I’ll set up the table,” Chan announces.

“I’ll help you,” you offer, and he nods, clearly grateful for your assistance.

You’re taking out four plates from the cupboard, Chan effortlessly bringing out the glasses, clearly familiar with the nooks and crannies of your home, when he suddenly speaks.

“How are you, Yn?”

“Do you want the truth?” you ask back, and he grins. “Always.”

“I’m okay. Right now. I don’t know if I’ll still be tomorrow, you know? It all fluctuates so much.”

“Mm, I understand,” he says, and something about his tone indicates that he isn’t saying this just to comfort you. “And that’s okay too. What you went through wasn’t easy, but good times will come again. They always do, you know, just like the sun always comes back after the rain.”

“The sun,” you repeat, as you glance out at the living room, where Minho is laughing at something Han just said, his head tipped back, bunny teeth peeking out.

Perhaps the sun rays were by your side all along.

“Thank you, Chan,” you beam at him. “Truly, for being worried about me too.”

“It's nothing to thank us for. We care about you, even though you don’t remember us,” he pouts, a hand on his heart in mock offense.

“Hey, it’s not my fault I got amnesia!” you chuckle.

"Excuses!" he drawls with a playful tone as he exits the kitchen, and you can't help but laugh quietly to yourself. You recognize what he's doing—making light of your accident to alleviate the weight on your heart.

The night blurs in your memory, but this time it is tinged with happiness and laughter. The three men recall fun stories of their time together, a seven-year bond rooted in love and care, albeit silently. You witnessed it in the details—Chan ensuring the food was on their plates first, Minho peeling shrimp for Han, the latter rubbing Chan’s arms when he complained of being cold.

Then you saw it directed towards you– how they put on the movie you wanted and watched in anticipation as you took the first bite of food, draped the fuzziest blanket around you, and rushed to your side simultaneously when you stumbled on your feet.

You were loved, although you didn’t know of it. The accident took away your memories but it didn’t plague theirs.

“Thank you,” you beam at the two men as you walk them to the door. Opening your arms wide, you invite them in for a hug. Han embraces you first, a large smile on his face, and you gently beckon Chan in too. “Easy,” he whispers in Han's ears, careful not to put any pressure on your ribs. They both pat your back as you wrap an arm around their respective shoulders before leaning away.

“I’ll call you,” Minho bids them farewell, tipping his chin forward. They wave to him before finally leaving

You close the door, leaning against the auburn wood. Minho watches you, a soft smile playing on his face.

“Good?” he inquires, closing the distance between you.

“Mm, good,” you reply with a smile as he halts just an inch away. His intoxicating scent envelops you, permeating your bones and flowing through your veins like liquid warmth.

A torrent of memories floods your mind—images of you pressed against this same door. It is dark, a stark contrast from your first memory, a lone lunar beam of light slashing through the night. Minho’s hands grip your waist with a fevered urgency, while yours entwines around the nape of his neck, in passion, in hunger, almost as if you were deprived of him for so long.

You angle his mouth closer to yours, his lips pressing against your own repeatedly, a desperate attempt to brand the contours of his mouth into your soul. His hair, a cascade of midnight silk, tickles your fingers with an electric charge, like the crackling of the air before a storm. His tongue sweeps across your lower lip, seeking entrance, one you willingly surrender, white flag easily thrown to the ground. With every kiss, your bodies meld together, so much so that you could merge into the door, disappearing into the shadows as one.

“What's wrong?” Minho breaks your trance and you snap out of your reverie, a bright flush adorning your cheeks.

“N-nothing,” you stammer.

“You’re all red, do you have a fever?” he asks, coming closer, his hand pressed to your forehead. His woody scent envelops you once again– everything about him is enticing— his cologne, his lips on you, his fingertips dragging underneath your shirt, his eyes piercing yours, undressing you before his hands ever could.

“Yn?” he questions and you grab his jaw, angling his face away from you.

“Stay like this, don’t look at me for a moment.”

“What?”

“Just… please,” you say and he chuckles, shaking his head in disbelief, and yet he complies, his side profile now facing you.

How does he live with these memories each time he looks at you?

You take in a deep breath, focusing on his silhouette. It might seem counterproductive to fixate on the same man consuming your thoughts, but how could you not when he was mere centimeters away, his eyes averted from yours?

You exhale softly as your gaze glides along the graceful curve of his neck, a solitary mole resting just beneath his sculpted jawline, leading the way to his plump lips, a cupid's bow delicately carved by the hands of the divine archer himself — crafted to be kissed, to be adored.

Your eyes trail up, tracing the high bridge of his nose, another mole perched at its pinnacle, sharp and smooth as if chiseled by a master sculptor, one who dedicated months to perfecting his artistry. His eyes are a mesmerizing brown, punctuated with long lashes that flutter like the delicate wings of an angel with each slow blink.

Minho sweeps aside strands of his hair, his fingertip delicately fluffing them upwards. It dawns on you, a sudden revelation of the necessity of art — to immortalize such beauty for generations to come.

You imagine admirers gazing upon Minho, sighing in sheer amazement, their hearts tightening with emotions that words struggle to encapsulate in the face of this epitome of beauty. Inside and out, you reflect, inside and out.

“You told them not to drink around me, right?” you ask softly.

A blush grows from the base of Minho's neck to the tip of his ears, like roots expanding into the soil. He sighs before finally looking at you.

“I did. How’d you figure it out?” he wonders.

“I asked Han if he wanted a drink, but he refused so categorically that I assumed he didn't like alcohol. But most of his stories were of him drunk,” you chuckle quietly, and Minho shrugs sheepishly.

“We get loud when we drink. You don’t like that,” he says simply as if it’s a given, an absolute certainty that he’d do anything but make you uncomfortable.

He's beautiful, the light of his heart basking his face in a glow that even Michaelangelo's skillful hands wouldn’t be able to replicate.

And he loves you.

Till when? Your heart sounds out in alarm. Till when will he love you? What if the grains of sand slip away from the hourglass before you can reciprocate his love? Two stars colliding at disparate speeds, never converging into a singular entity, destined to erupt and scatter into cosmic dust.

How long do you have left? How many more days will he love you for?

How many more days do you have to love him back?

Day 30.

Minho is sick.

He tried his best to conceal it from you, as he came back from his dance studio, strands of his hair clinging to his forehead, a thin sheen of perspiration above his right eyebrow. Yet, his uncharacteristic silence betrayed him, as he quietly retreated into the shower, emerging with a solemn expression on his face.

Seated on the bed, book long forgotten by your side, you bit your lip tentatively. “You're okay?” you inquired, perched on the edge, concern etched in your gaze.

“Mm, just tired,” Minho responded, his attempt at reassurance falling short as he laid down on the floor mattress. “Can you turn off the lights?” he softly requested. “Hurts my eyes.”

“Yeah, of course. Will you sleep now?”

“I think so.”

“Okay then. Good night, Minho,” you uttered gently, the veins in your heart tangled with worry. “Good night,” he whispered in return.

In the stillness of the night, you were roused by soft whimpers escaping Minho's lips. He writhed in apparent discomfort, his features contorted with an unseen anguish. His pupils moved furiously underneath the thin layer of his eyelids, betraying the tumultuous thoughts raging in his mind.

You've never seen Minho so disrupted in his sleep, mouth slightly hung agape as if he struggled to breathe in the depths of his dreams. Your worry for him came back to haunt you ten times fold.

You lean over the bed, gently shaking his shoulders. “Minho, wake up.”

“No... no-no, don't-don't go,” he whispers, caught in the vines of a restless dream, seemingly wrapping around his mind, trapping him in. “Minho, come on wake up,” your pleas grow more insistent, but so do his. “Don't go, s-stay,” he implores, voice broken, prompting you to abandon your bed and join him on his mattress.

“Minho!” you call out, shaking him until his eyes finally flutter open. He gasps for air— as if inhaling his first breath on this earth, shooting upright, wide-eyed and disoriented.

His gaze locks on yours and he instantly cradles your face in his sweaty hands, bringing you closer to him until your noses bump into one another. “You didn't go,” he whispers, and you shake your head. “I'm here.”

“Fuck,” he swears, releasing his hold on you and sinking back into the pillow.

“Minho, what's wrong?” you ask softly, afraid you're treading on stormy waters.

“I… I don't know. I don't feel good,” He admits, fingers tugging at the collar of his shirt, as if the fabric morphed into a vise around his throat. A flush creeps up his neck, red dots splashing across his ivory skin. A droplet of sweat traces a slow path down his temple, as the white fabric clings uncomfortably to his warm skin.

“Do you have a fever?”you ask, placing your hand on his forehead, sensing an unusual heat radiating beneath your touch. “Minho, where is your thermometer?”

“Bedside drawer,” he breathes out.

Fetching the thermometer, you gently tug at his chin, opening his mouth to check his temperature. “Stay still”" you instruct, watching anxiously as the numbers climb steadily.

“40°C, fuck Minho, you have a really high fever,” you exclaim as he shuts his eyes, an unmistakable weariness claiming him, rendering him malleable, akin to the silk pillow he's resting on.

“I feel dizzy,” he admits, burying his face into the covers.

“You need to take a cold shower now,” you urge a sudden lump materializes in your throat at the sight of his suffering.

“It's okay, I'll just sleep.”

“No, no, it's far from okay!” you almost exclaim, tears stinging at the corners of your eyes as if you were peeling an onion—your own emotional layers unraveling, exposing the depth of your concern for Minho.

“Minho, please, you have a really high fever,” you plead, feeling an unexpected surge of panic at his unwillingness to cooperate.

“Yn… are you worried about me?”

“I am.”

“It feels nice. Please be worried about me more,” he mumbles, eyes still closed, eliciting an incredulous laugh from you.

“You are so unbelievable, my god,” you pull him up and he doesn't resist, nearly stumbling on his feet.

“Okay?” you ask, running your hand through the nape of his neck.

“Mm,” he hums, burying his head in your shoulder. “Sleepy.”

“I know, you'll sleep after the shower,” you reassure softly, guiding him to the bathroom, his entire body weight leaning onto yours. There, you turn on the light, your right hand holding Minho's waist tightly as you lead him to settle atop the toilet.

“Can I take off your shirt?”

“Are you planning to undress me?” he smiles lazily, hooded eyes locked onto yours.

“No, I just-” you stammer, but he’s quick to cut you off.

“Because I don't mind.”

“I can't believe you're flirting with me while you're sick.”

“I always am, I can't help it,” he says, raising his hands as a silent signal for you to remove his shirt.

“You're awfully candid tonight,” you observe, seizing the edges of his shirt and drawing it over his head. His tongue glides across his lips, his gaze drawing tantalizingly slow over your form, and you clench his shirt tighter in your hands. He's the one with the fever, yet it's you who feels ablaze, flames of longing licking at your every sense.

“Come here,” you beckon, the icy water now flowing as you turn the knob. He reaches his hand out to you, and you grasp it, guiding him under the frigid cascade, soaking you both.

“C-cold,” he stutters, and you nod, your breath escaping in short, visible puffs.

“I-I know, just a little longer,” you reassure.

2 a.m. is a peculiar time to shower, the water droplets echoing against the tiled floor is the only sound that can be heard. That, and your labored breaths in tandem with the chilly embrace of the water filling your bones. The quiet makes way for other unspoken sentiments to surge forth, electric and palpable, heightened by the way Minho gazes at you through the liquid curtain, his hands clinging tightly to your arms for stability.

Droplets of water weave seamlessly through his hair, and an unexpected pang of jealousy grips you— you envy the liberty of those water beads as they thread through his locks, tracing the contours of his broad shoulders, nestling in the enticing recesses of his collarbones, without fearing the consequences of such acts. You don't dare look further down, wary that the rivulets on his skin may lead to your own undoing. Instead, you close your eyes thanking the stars that you weren’t wearing a white shirt, which would have turned translucent by now. You don’t even want to contemplate the consequences of such a premise.

After a few minutes, you turn off the water, stepping out of the shower and swiftly enveloping Minho in a towel.

“Go change, I have some spare clothes in here. Oh, and don't wear a top,” you instruct.

Minho chuckles quietly and you roll your eyes. “Shh. Make sure to dry your hair too.”

Taking your time in getting dressed, you peel off each wet layer, depositing them into the washing machine, before donning a spare pajama from a cabinet. You stroll to the kitchen to pour Minho a glass of water and retrieve medicine from the drawer, lingering at the counter long enough to ensure he'd be dressed by the time you return to the room.

You knock softly before opening the door, and the sight of Minho freezes you in your tracks. The room basks in warm, orange hues from the lamp's glow, playing upon Minho's skin and casting enticing shadows on the contours of his muscles—a masterpiece created by the skilled hands of light. His toned arms rest between his legs, back against the headboard, and an inexplicable urge to flee washes over you, your heart sinking to your knees in the face of his long-avoided vision of beauty.

You swallow the tumultuous thoughts raging within you before handing him his medicine, which he drinks diligently. Pressing your palm to his forehead, you're relieved to find a slight reduction in his temperature. “It will go down more once the medicine takes effect,” you assure.

“One of my students had a nasty cold. I think I got it from him,” he explains, and you nod, your hand lingering near his. Your fingers twitch as his pinky brushes against yours—akin to birds fluttering their wings in anticipation, awaiting, aching for a release from their cage, at last.

“I'm tired,” Minho sighs, closing his eyes. “Lay down,” you gently instruct, and he complies, resting his head on the pillow.

“It's cold,” he whines, swaying like a child throwing a bedtime tantrum. He's endearing, melting the frost that had gathered in your heart.

“You have a fever, silly,” you chuckle, pushing strands of his hair from his forehead, twirling them around. “Your hair's gotten longer,” you muse as you braid a tiny section of his bangs, only to undo it again.

“Can you play with my hair some more?” he requests softly.

“Of course,” you reply, threading your fingers through his locks, jet black as if all the stars in the sky collided, leaving behind nothing but a dark abyss.

“Please stay healthy, Min. Take care of yourself too.”

“But I like it more when you take care of me,” he pouts, before sighing shortly after. “I'll probably regret a lot of my words tomorrow, right?”

“Why is that?”

“Because you don’t feel the same for me,” he confesses, leaving you silent, grappling with the echoes of his words. What do you feel for Minho?

The question jolts the breath from your windpipe violently, an unyielding force crashing against your lungs till the answer finds its footing on your tongue.

“Can I ask you something?” you finally speak, cringing at the sound of your voice disrupting the fragile quiet.

“Anything.”

“Where did your scar come from?” you inquire, gesturing towards the mark just below his belly button.

“I got surgery a long time ago. I’m kind of self-conscious about it,” he confesses, a bit shyly.

“Really? But it’s beautiful, it looks like a strike of lightning,” you sincerely remark, coaxing a tender smile from Minho, unfolding like the gradual sunrises of autumn.

“This is exactly what you told me months ago.”

“Did I?”

“Mm, and then you traced it with your fingertips,” he grabs your hand, hovering it over his stomach. You can easily slip out of his grasp; you choose not to.

“Like this?” you murmur, tracing his scar gently, fingertips grazing his skin like a lit fire, subtly enough not to scorch. His flesh tenses beneath your caress, muscles constricting as you navigate from right to left—a trajectory of dusty stars akin to the Milky Way, his skin soft to the touch, rippling beneath you with thinly veiled goosebumps.

“Yes,” he breathes out, his gaze wide, running furiously over your face. Yet, your attention lingers on his skin, shadows dancing across its surface, its honeyed hue a shade you wish to sear behind your eyelids. Your hands ascend and descend, mapping his body which blushes in response, as if his very being memorized your touch, imprinting your fingerprints onto its memory. You slide down his forearms, pausing over his fragile veins, seemingly offering you his life.

Silence envelops you, punctuated only by the weighty exhales escaping you both, for there are feelings that words cannot encapsulate, no matter how much human languages strive to, ultimately succumbing to the profundity of silence— the one language only souls comprehend.

Your hands ascend to his neck, thumb grazing the tender skin cradling his pulse. It resonates throughout your bones, echoing from his being to yours as if you’re harboring two lives within you.

“You… you could've kissed me over at the bridge,” you whisper, bringing to light the question that’s been lingering at the back of your mind. “Why didn't you?”

“I wanted you to kiss me because you wanted to. Not because you longed for our past or our future. I wanted you to want me in the present,” Minho explains, vulnerability seeping into his words, like honey melting into a warm cup of tea.

“I’m scared,” you admit, your voice a fragile murmur, even as your head leans forward, hair cascading around Minho’s face, enclosing him in an intimate curtain. Minho gently grabs your hand and cradles it against his cheek, pressing a tender kiss to the center of your palm.

“Right now. Do you want me?” he asks simply, offering himself openly to you.

Do you want him?

After a momentary pause, you tentatively lean in, planting a gentle kiss upon his forehead. A resonant exhale escapes him, as your lips trace a path along his cheeks, leaving behind a trail of tiny kisses. Moving to the tender skin beneath his eyes— as easily bruised as your emotions—you bestow soft pecks to it as if seeking forgiveness for every tear he shed in your name.

His eyes remained closed, his trust evident in the surrender of his being to you. The answer to your internal query is written all over his features— the hushed exhale escaping his body, the gentle rise and fall of his chest, the tranquility nestled between his eyebrows.

Yes. Yes, you do.

Your lips finally meet Minho’s in a delicate union, unmoving like rose petals folding onto one another. A surge of warmth emanates from the depths of your heart, coursing through your entire being like sunrays, submerging your soul in a tranquil white glow.

Leaning away ever so slightly, you press a tender kiss on his lower lip, enclosing it between your own. Your hand cradles his jaw, running gently through his damp strands. Your lips move against his slowly in a saccharine kiss, parting, only to meet again, in the same tenderness, perhaps a growing one as you become accustomed to the contours of his lips, to the languid moves of his mouth, following your rhythm. You were leading the dance, his lips mere puppets to your heart’s wishes. He didn't rush you, only allowed you to kiss him, whichever way you wanted.

A pause, a moment suspended in time, your hands trembling as they rest upon his cheeks, his palm hovering above your own, offering a comforting press. The gesture reassures you in your curiosity that won’t be satiated, urging you to seal your lips on his with a tentative fervor. The world outside dissolves into a distant murmur, the seconds blending into a timeless run, you slamming the door before your worries protesting at the entrance of your mind. Tomorrow, you’ll find the answers. Tonight, you are kissing Minho.

As you press a final, lingering kiss to his velvety mouth, visions of you at peace flood your being. You see yourself sinking into the warm pool of your aunt’s country club, you see yourself walking on the beach with sand molding to the contours of your feet, you see yourself laying on the grass while observing sunrays weaving through the trees. And then, amidst your most serene memories, the act of pressing your lips to Minho stands out, the warmth of his mouth against yours eclipsing all other sensations.

Leaning away, you rest your forehead on his shoulder, and Minho's hands cradle your hair.

"Which lip balm do you use,” you giggle against his bare skin, relishing in the sweet taste of his lips.

“Yours.”

Day 31.

Minho’s nose is buried in the crook of your neck, his arm draped across the expanse of your stomach. He sinks further into you, binding himself to your body, anchoring his hold on your being. You are warm, your skin is soft to the touch and Minho doesn’t want to wake up from this tender dream, akin to plummeting into a sea of silky pillows, falling into a blanket of clouds.

Except, he's awake, Minho realizes with a jolt. He blinks repeatedly, allowing the sunrays to stream to his eyes, his pupils dilating once they settle on you— so much their obsidian depths swallows the brown of his irises whole. You stir beneath his touch, making your cheek press upon the crown of his head. He's fully awake now, snatched from the velvet threads of his dreams made up of you, thrown into your arms once again after thirty-three days.

A soft gasp escapes Minho’s lips, the air stolen from his lungs as if it was yours to claim. Echoes of the night replay in his mind— a fever, you tending him to me, a cold cascade of water, you tracing his scar, and then, the kiss.

You kissed him. A long shiver runs down his spine at the memory, a subtle twitch that stirs you from slumber once again.

What does one kiss mean? The question dances wildly in Minho’s mind. More importantly, what do you want it to mean?

Minho whines softly, closing his eyes for a few seconds, relishing in the fragrance of your hair, in the serenity that floods his being each time he’s around you. This was his most restful slumber in weeks, because you were near, his mind recognizing you, relaxing underneath your touch, drifting to a mindless sleep.

Reluctantly, he untangles himself from you, a bittersweet departure from your arms. Work was calling his name.

He prayed you’d call his too soon.

….

You wake up to an empty bed, the only lingering trace of the night you spent being the tingling of your lips, as if aching to be kissed once again. You sigh, running a hand through your face. It was much easier to succumb to your heart’s wishes when it was late at night, when minho laid bare beneath your touch, so enticing in the gentlest of ways. When you were cradled by the moon’s soft glow, blanketed by the night’s cloak of darkness.

But it was light now, the sun was glaring as it streamed through the windows, exposing all the flawed ways of your mind.

What does one kiss mean?

Nothing, if it wasn’t minho who you had kissed. If it wasn’t as tender as the meeting of your lips.

The tomorrow you believed far quickly came, and you still beheld no answers. A few hours drifted by and you still knew nothing. What does this kiss mean? It's late afternoon and you’re strolling through the park nearby and you can't find an answer. The question rings in your mind as you sit by a bench, and you still don’t know.

“You seem preoccupied,” a voice quips up nearby and you startle. You hadn’t even noticed the man sitting by your side. His arms crossed before his chest, making impressive muscles constrict beneath the snug fabric of his black shirt, a cascade of fluffy black curls sat at the top of his head, a slight smirk etched on his lips.

“Pardon?”

“I said you seem preoccupied.”

“No i heard that,” you roll your eyes subtly, “do i know you?”

“No. You just look worried, that's all.”

“You really don’t know me?” you ask, a tad apprehensive, unsure if this was someone else your memory faulted you of.

“No? Are you a celebrity of some sorts?” he inquires, tone much more cheerful, angling his body towards you.

“No, i’m not,” you giggle, before quieting down, an exhausted sigh escaping your body. “Is it that obvious then?”

“Yeah. I’m afraid so,” he pouts sympathetically, tone almost desolate and you huff, burying your face in your hands.

“Do you need help with something?” he offers after a while, his concern evident in the frown of his brows. You are comforted by the anonymity of talking to a stranger, you were but a blank canvas to him. You wouldn't see him again, anyways.

“I feel lost. I can't seem to find the answers I'm looking for.”

“Maybe you’re just not asking the right questions.”

Oh.

The guy claps his hands suddenly, long before you could dwell on his words and their implications

“I actually have a question for you!”

“Ask away.”

“Do you want to go on a date with me?”

“No?” you chuckle, amusement dripping from your voice. “I don't know you?”

“That's the point of a date.”

“Are you this bored?” you smile, arching an eyebrow at him.

“I'm not bored. I just need to take my mind off things,” he shrugs, a slight smirk on his face. but you somehow see beyond it, right into the dull twinkle of his eyes. Maybe he also couldn’t find the answers he was looking for.

“So you're using me?” you fake outrage and he giggles, a high pitched sound that reverberates through the playground, making some kids nearby stare at you. You stifle a surprised laugh.

“I'm not using you if I tell you upfront why I asked you out.”

“You are right, but i decline your kind offer,” you say solemnly and he nods, shaking his head in defeat.

“Here is my card, in case you change your mind. Or need a little escape, call me,” he smiles, handing you a sleek black card before getting up and dusting his pants. “See you,” he says, as if he was sure you'd call him back. you stare in disbelief at his retreating figure, before glancing down at the card.

Mr. Seo Changbin, you read, CEO of Gold’s Gym— the largest gym branch in the country.

Oh wow.

The amused smile lingers on your lips as you gaze ahead, lost in thought, contemplating the words spoken by Changbin. Maybe he was right; perhaps you are afraid of asking the right questions. Sucking in a deep breath, you decide to take the longer route home, eventually finding yourself outside your favorite bakery; the one you discovered on one of your many walks with Minho.

You go to open its door when an unexpected tingling at the back of your neck freezes you in your tracks. Your heart tightens in your chest as you turn around slowly, greeted by the sharp eyes of two familiar faces—Lia and Mari, your coworkers from before your accident. A tentative smile graces your lips, but the alarms of warning in your mind intensify.

“Hey, yn!”

“Hey, guys,” you greet back, taking a step backwards from them.

“How have you been since… You know, your accident,” Lia pouts, but the question lacks sincerity, as if they were wearing masks before you, concealing their true intentions. You wonder which one they'll put on next.

“Good, i’ve been good,” you force a smile, as their eyes move up and down your body, judgment dripping from their gaze.

“We wanted to come see you but we didn’t know if you were still at your listed address. Since your boyfriend lives there.”

“Oh, um, yeah, I still live there.”

“But didn’t you forget about him?” Lia feigns ignorance and you feel anxiety picking at your skin like relentless protruding needles. You want to run.

“Lia that’s rude. I think he's her ex-boyfriend now," Mari chuckles, mockery palpable in her tone.

“Poor Minho, he must suffer a lot. Say hey to him from me,"Lia smiles, a chilling feline grin, her eyes narrowing down like a hawk peering at his prey.

“I will.”

“We’ll see you at work. If you’re still able to keep up with the tasks,” they leave, ugly laughs echoing after them, and an urge to throw up overtakes you, the scent of pastries furthering your nausea. You hasten your steps toward your building.

You’re almost safe, almost, keys trembling in your hand as you struggle to enter your apartment, when the door adjacent to you opens. Your neighbors smile at you, although it is a gesture tinged with pity. You painfully smile back before slamming the door.

Yeart hammering in your chest, you press your back against the door, hand clawing at your throat.

“Did you know she got into a car accident, and apparently she forgot her boyfriend?”

“Really? They were so cute though.”

“Yeah, it’s a shame.”

Their words suffocate you, stepping atop your lungs, syllables choking you from within. Is this what everything thought of you? Did they all pity you for the accident? For forgetting your lover? Did they see you as a burden, a parasite plaguing his life? Is this what Han and Chan saw when their eyes lingered on you? Is this what the librarian and florist whispered to each other each time you passed by?

You didn’t know these people and yet they had their minds set on you, fixated storylines you couldn’t change, no matter how much you tried to rewrite them.

Your thoughts spiral like the unloosened screws of a ticking clock. Minho, the unanswered questions, the expectations of others—everything converges in the base of your mind, making your ears ring cacophonically within your skull.

You slide down the door, fingers trembling as you take out your phone then Changbin’s card from your pocket. You dial his number with haste. You needed a breather, to talk to someone who knew nothing of you, of who you were, of who you could be.

“Hello?” his voice booms clearly through the phone.

“Changbin,” you breathe out. “Let's go on a date tomorrow.”

You were asleep when minho came back from work, your back turned towards him, soft exhales escaping your body. He didn't want to disturb you, so, he made sure to come earlier the next day, a strawberry and cream pastry in his hand that he knew you loved. Perhaps, you’d both talk about your kiss today, what it meant for you both.

But, he doesn’t find you home. The only indication that you had just left was the lingering scent of your perfume, tickling his nose as if to mock him. Poor minho— the gardenia and honey tones spelled out in the air; the one fragrance you strictly reserve for dates. The one you used to put for him.

It looked like you found your answer after all.

Day 33.

“Did I keep you waiting?”

“No, just in time,” you smile as Changbin pulls the chair in front of you, settling down with ease, a pang of confidence coloring his movements.

“How are you, today?”

“Better, i think,” you falter under his scrutinizing gaze, your facade cracking. “I don't know, it’s all complicated,” you sigh and he nods, signaling for the waiter to take your drinks order. Chai latte for you, hot chocolate for him.

“Spill, what’s preoccupying you?” he leans forward, arms crossed on the table.

“You don’t even know my name,” you giggle, looking around at the warm interior. Cozy, faint music playing in the background, taupe chairs and amber tables, the smell of cinnamon rolls wafting through the air. Minho would like it here.

“What's your name?”

“Yn.”

“Okay, Yn,” he emphasizes, a slight smirk on his face. “Spill.”

You shake your head as the waiter places down your drinks, wrapping your fingers around the heated cup, hoping the warmth would seep into your being through your palm lines.

“Did you want to become a therapist by any chance?” you muse, arching an eyebrow at him.

“No, it’s just fixing others' problems helps me forget my own,” he winks and you snort at his honesty. it was admirable, how frank he was to a complete stranger.

“Fine, it’s a long story, but basically…” you lick your lips, wondering what’s the best way to go on about this. “I got into a car accident and I lost my memory of the past year and so.”

Changbin winces at your words and you sigh. “Yeah. Except I was in a relationship before…”

“And you totally forgot about it?”

“I did. It hurt him a lot.”

Changbin nods in understanding, taking a sip of his drink. He places his chin on his palm, carefully eyeing you.

“But how does that make you feel?”

“Me?”

“Yes, you. You're the one who lost your memories after all.”

“I feel guilty for forgetting such a relationship.”

“Why is that?”

“Because everyday i can see why I fell in love with him.”

“And you don't love him now?”

“No,” you quickly say before pausing, shoulders dropping under the weight of your questioning. “I don't know. It's complicated.”

Changbin absentmindedly tugs at the charms of his bracelet, gaze flicking down to his wrist for a couple seconds, before locking on yours intently.

“Describe him to me in one sentence.”

“You sound like my annoying French teacher,” you roll your eyes and he huffs, not offended in the least. “Look, I just want to know my competition.”

“Do you have a retort for everything?”

“What can I say? I'm witty and all that,” he shrugs confidently and you giggle before quieting down, muling over his question. “In a sentence…” you muse, fingers drumming along your cup. You don't even realize that a fond smile has unfolded on your lips, but Changbin does.

“He's the light rain that falls during spring, that makes the flower bloom and the smell of earth waft through the air. He brings things back to life, in a way.”

Changbin smiles softly, tilting his head to the side. “Can you really not see it, or are you hiding the truth because you're scared?”

“What do you mean?”

“Yn, he brought you back to life.”

“I… no.” you pause, voice faltering. “Did he?”

You see Minho pushing you on a wheelchair to your home. Minho protecting you from your mind. Minho washing your hair. Minho making you tea. Minho baring his soul to you. Minho helping you cook. Minho bringing the sea to you. Minho holding your hand. Minho comforting you before comforting himself. Minho forgiving you so you'd forgive yourself. Minho devastating himself so you'd piece your heart together. Minho, minho, minho.

“Fuck, he did,” you whisper in realization, as a grand feeling swells in your heart suddenly, pushing your heart against the confines of your ribs. Flowers bloom into your entire body, petals melding into the coursing blood in your veins, butterflies fluttering their delicate wings across your chest, an effulgent light flooding in like the sun was spilled inside your very core.

“Aren’t I so smart,” Changbin grins, satisfied at the awestruck expression on your face.

“What should I do?” you ask anxiously, gripping the edges of the table.

“Go talk to him. Don't waste any more time.”

“You are right, oh my god,” you grab your purse, standing up abruptly. “I have to go, I…”

“It's okay, don't worry about me, I'm always the side chick,” he sighs in faux sadness and you giggle, swatting his shoulder.

“Thank you so much. I'll repay you for this, I promise!” you start walking before stopping and turning around.

“Oh and Changbin?”

“Yes?”

“You know what to do too. They made you that bracelet right? You haven't taken your eyes off of it.”

“Shut up,” he grumbles, “those are my lines.”

“They are mine now too,” Laughter dances from your lips as you flee the café, taking off running to your home. It was near, merely a five-minute walk, nestled beside the playground where you encountered Changbin. Yet, urgency propels your steps, a fervent need to reach Minho swiftly. You had wasted thirty-three days, three million seconds that could’ve been spent with Minho. You don’t know how many more breaths the universe might extend, what if the stars tire of your reluctance and blow the winds of his love to another soul? You couldn’t stomach it.

You climb up the stairs, chest heaving, breaths escaping your being in an erratic rhythm. you didn't even know what to say, your words remained unscripted, unsure of what confessions will spill forth when your eyes will meet Minho's. Yet, you're not worried. You know that whatever surfaces would be surging from your heart.

What you don’t anticipate is for an uncharacteristic silence to find you at home, the scent of your perfume faintly wafting into the air. Minho sat in the living room, a bag by his side, his head downcast. The cats watching you from the corner of the room.

A desert- dry sensation clings to your mouth, your tongue heavy as if crafted from lead. Your once vibrant excitement extinguishes, much like a match blown out, leaving only a lingering stench behind.

“Minho?”

“Yn,” he responds, eyes actively avoiding yours. “I was waiting for you. I... I'll be gone for a few days, a week at most.”

“What? Where to?”

“I already told my parents to come pick up the cats so you don't have to worry about feeding them. The fridge is stacked, so you-” his voice falters, “so don't worry about that either.”

“Minho... what-what are you saying?”

“I need time away, alone. I'm sorry, I tried, I tried so hard, Yn, but there is only so much I can take,” he whispers, and your heart shatters, tiny million pieces blown away by the wind.

“Minho, look at me,” you crouch before him, your hands resting on his knees. He still avoids your gaze.

“Minho, please,” you plead, and his eyes finally lock on yours. They glisten with tears, reflecting light akin to a celestial mirror.

“My heart hurts so much, but it's not your fault. Loving me once doesn't mean you'll love me again, and it's okay if you want to see other people. I just... I need to go somewhere, for a little. I need to make room for the pain because it's overwhelming me,” he confesses, his words eating at your insides. Was it too late? Have you lost him?

Minho gently takes away your hands before standing up. Fear overwhelms you as you watch his shoulders drop, his eyes glazing over the walls one last time. He will come back, but not here, not to you. He's bidding goodbye to the home and you because you killed his hope. He would leave everything behind but echoes of him that you'd be sentenced to hear alone, every day, every night.

“Minho,” you seize his wrist, “Minho, don't go.”

"Why?" he asks in the smallest voice you've heard from him. He's like a river cut off by a dam, yearning to run back home, to flow the way it used to, back to you. His heart rings loudly in his ears, pain overwhelming him, yet your touch calms him down. You are the knife and the medicine, the scorch and the cooling balm; you are everything at once.

“I'll make room in your heart, I'll take out all the bad weeds and start again. Just don't go.”

“What do you mean?” He's breathless, hope inflating in his heart, clouds parting to reveal the sun.

“I know things won't go back to the way they used to. I don't think I'll ever remember everything, but I want you to tell me,” there is a lump growing in your throat, but you push it away. Your voice breaks and cracks, yet you still speak. You need him to know.

“I want you to take me to all the places we've visited and then tell me how we fell in love in them. I want you to show me how I loved you,” your hand trails down his hand, intertwining your fingers with his, pulling him closer. “I want to learn you, what you like, what you hate, what makes you angry and what makes your heart flutter.”

“And I want to love you, not because you love me, but because my heart chose you," your hand travels up his arm, settling right down at his cheek. Your thumb swipes across his tender skin. “I choose you over and over again. It's you, Minho, it's always been you.”

“You want me again?” he says tentatively, eyes wide, pouring onto yours—your galaxy to love, to admire, to peer into for the rest of your life.

“I want you. Please don't go.”

“Swear it, please.”

Instead of ephemeral words, you softly press your lips to his, as you did last night. “I swear,” you whisper against his mouth. “I'm falling in love with you,” you peck his lips, hand snaking up against his neck, moving his mouth closer to yours. “Not falling,” you say, pressing your forehead to his, nuzzling his nose against your own. “I'm coming back. I'm coming home.”

“You came back to me,” he whispers, voice hoarse.

“I'll always do,” you promise, a grin overtaking your mouth. “Can you kiss me, Minho?”

Minho blinks in amazement, his eyes darting all over your face, each blink resembling the capture of an image. He's stitching this moment into his mind, the hue of your cheeks and the gleam in your eyes. He missed the way you're looking at him, the slight shiver running through you as he brushes his lips against your own, slowly savoring the feel of you so near. His hands find your jaw, cradling it softly, and then he kisses you, just like how he dreamed of doing for the past month.

The kiss is dizzying, far different from your previous one. You’re no longer grasping at elusive cigarette smoke, fleeting through the gaps between your fingers. You are no longer awaiting a beacon of remembrance to shine upon your mind. You have minho, and he's delicately nibbling your lower lip, eliciting a soft gasp from you. His tongue glides across the tingling expanse, soothing down the pang of hurt, asking you for more. You willingly give it to him in a fervent, whirlwind kiss, his hands finding solace in the curve of your waist, while yours become poets, weaving tales in his hair, tugging at his strands the way you've always yearned to.

It is muscle memory, to press your body against his, to gasp into his mouth, to match the rhythm of his tongue, the way it circles tantalizingly around yours, the way you groan against his mouth, as he briefly parts from you, his giggle a sweet prelude to meeting your lips once again with increased fervor. His tongue weaves words against the roof of your mouth— I missed you, I want you, I love you.

Minho snakes his hand around your lower back, guiding you back until his legs find the couch. He eases you down, fingers hooked through the loop of your jeans. You kiss him again, a cadence as natural as breathing. Time unravels, rewinding to mend the fractures in his heart, erasing thirty-three days of heartbreak in mere seconds. You kiss him, again and again, thirty three days of longing exploding in your touch.

“Are you crying?” you whisper against his lips, your thumbs delicately swiping across his damp cheeks. Unaware of his flowing tears, he closes his eyes, embarrassment coursing through him. “I'm here,” you reassure, peppering his face with kisses – from his ear to his nose, cheeks to the corner of his mouth. “I'm here, honey. I want you.”

“Only me?” he questions, tone fragile.

“Only you,” you kiss him again, tenderly, inhaling life through his lips. “Let me show you how much, hm?”

Your lips trace a path down his neck as you draw his shirt over his head. An ivory canvas, he is meant for you to mark, to touch however you desire. Your lips graze the scar on his stomach, kissing it in the way you've ached to do since two nights before.

You're sinking to your knees before him and yet you’re the one in control, rippling shivers all over his skin. He’s impatient, needing you close, so he quickly pulls you up, before hovering over you, his hands drawing everywhere, running wild across your body. He missed the plush feel of your skin, the contours of your body that he yearned to explore once again. He's a prisoner deprived of the light for so long, sinking into the sun once again.

Minho's eyes never leave yours, as he touches you, moves in you in ways your soul seems to remember. He's gentle, removing strands of your hair out of your eyes, smoothing down the side of your head. All encompassing, drinking in your moans and groans, burning you up and soothing you all at once. “Good?” he asks, again and again, waiting to hear your affirmation before picking up speed again. Your answer is yes each time he asks, as he seals the void in you, the one he's been carefully stitching up for the past weeks. You store his glazed eyes and scrunched eyebrows in the gallery of your mind, you make room for new memories with Minho.

You're overwhelming him, in the most beautiful ways, contradicting feelings coursing through him like a rain flood. He's aching yet relieved to have you beneath him, lost in waves of pleasure so he grabs your hand to anchor himself, entwining his fingers with yours, before bringing it to his mouth, placing a tender smile on your palm. You beam at him, trust reflecting in your eyes as you bare your being to him. It is a rare fortune to be chosen by you not once, but twice, he can't believe how lucky he is to have you as his guiding star.

Your eyes never leave Minho’s, a shimmering pool mirroring your emotions. You see everything you feel in him—your better reflection. You had missed him, you were home now. “Miss you,” he whispers as he buries his face in your neck, seemingly hearing your thoughts. “Missed you so much,” he mumbles as your hands tangle in his hair, tears descending gently upon your cheeks, as they are on his. “Please don't leave me again.”

“I won't- I won't,” you promise, as light floods your vision, reaching the pinnacle of your pleasure. Colors burst before your eyes in a kaleidoscope, resembling shades of Minho— the warm brown of his eyes, the honeyed hue of his skin, the pink tint of his ears whenever he's embarrassed, the red of his lips, swollen as they kiss you. Tonight and tomorrow and every day after this one.

Day 1.

In the hushed aftermath, your head rests upon Minho’s bare chest, listening to the quiet rhythm of his heartbeat, calming down as the seconds trickle by. His arm curls around your body protectively, keeping you from slipping off the couch. Your knuckles trail up and down his shoulders, soothing the places where you had scratched too hard. His hand seeks yours, delivering a kiss as tender as the silence enveloping you—quiet and secure. The forgotten past doesn't matter; you will rewrite your story once more.

“Do you think our designated stars are sad somewhere far away?”

“Why would they be?”

“I don't know. Don't you think it's bittersweet how they missed out on so many days of loving one another?”

“I don't know, did they?” he muses, planting a tender kiss on your shoulder. “I think mine loved you all the same.”

720 notes · View notes

mariespen · 3 months

Note

hihiii can u write a very argumenty angsty story with rafe anything honestly i just need to read some good ass angst and ur angst is sooo good but yeah that’s if you write this or not that’s okay

rafe Cameron x fem!reader a/n: Hi!! Thank you so much for the request, seeing them makes me so happy :(( So sorry that this took me forever to write, I tried to write it a few times but couldn't embody what I was trying to say. This plot line helped me out honestly! I hope this was what you were hoping for. ILY!! content warnings: description of injury, mention of drugs, angst, arguing and yelling, swearing, happy ending bc I can't do angst without one

‧˚₊•┈┈┈┈୨୧┈┈┈┈•‧₊˚⊹

Your face was pale with worry as you stood in the kitchen, trying to distract yourself from your growing anxiety. Your boyfriend, Rafe Cameron, was known to get himself in trouble very often. Usually you would be there to pull him out of it, but Rafe had stormed out of the house in a rage around 5 hours ago, shouting something about his new dealer and you knew there wasn’t a word you could’ve said to stop him. You knew that for a fact because you’d been thinking about it since he slammed the door.

The music you were listening to was turned up almost all the way as you attempted to drown out any thought that you could have by using the loudest music you could. However, you had to turn it down because the intense feeling just added to your stress.

Sitting on the kitchen counter, you scrolled through the many texts that you had sent Rafe over the hours. There wasn’t any sign that he had even seen them and eventually they just stopped going through, a very blatant sign that his phone had died. Eventually you gave up, giving into your anxious tendencies and pacing around the house, your breathing panicked as you checked your phone constantly.

The front door slammed and you flinched at the sound, running out of the living and praying it was Rafe. When you looked at him for the first time that night, his face was bloody and sweat-ridden. His eyes were wide and each of his fists were red with blood that you could bet wasn’t his. Rafe’s hair was scattered and his clothes were torn in a few places, red staining the fabric.

“Rafe..” You said, watching as his dangerous gaze fell onto you.

“Don’t wanna talk about it..” He said, wiping blood from his nose and pushing past you with a grunt, “out of my way.” He said, rolling his eyes.

“What happened?” You asked, following after him. Your heart was pounding with anxiety and anticipation. Your breathing was still quick and panicked as you looked up at him again, wincing at the sight of his face.

“Told you I didn’t want to talk about it.” Rafe spat, putting out his arm to force distance between the two of you.

“No, you don’t get to do this!” You protested as he stormed away. The worry and concern turned into anger and resentment in your little heart as he gave you another cold shoulder.

“Fuck off, will ya?” He said, not flicking his eyes to you once as he spoke.

“Rafe..” You said softly again, trying to get a better look at his current state. “Jesus! Will you just-“ He said, swatting your hand away, “Just leave me alone!” He stared you down, his voice rising with his anger.

“Please, just tell me you’re okay.” You said breathlessly, starting to pace backwards.

“Does it look like I’m okay?” He said, turning to look at you full on, watching you wince at the sight of his injuries.

You stood back, the feeling of anger burning a hole in your gut.

“God, what is your problem?” You said, muttering your words so that he could barely hear them,

“What was that? What did you say?” He asked, almost like he was challenging you. Instinctively, you look a step back again.

“What is your problem?” You repeated, raising your voice, hesitantly accepting his challenge.

He laughed, a dry and mocking tone as he stared you down.

“What am I doing wrong?” You took a brave step forward, raising your voice, “I just want to help you!” “Stop! I don’t need you or your help.” Rafe shouted, taking an equal step and shoving a finger into your face.

“Fine.” You whispered, throwing your hands up in surrender and turning your back to him, walking out of the kitchen hesitantly.

You didn’t have a plan when you started to open the front door. Maybe you’d go to Kiara’s house and cry in her bed until the sun came up. Or maybe you’d go to JJ’s just to get Rafe back. God, he’d go crazy knowing that you went to JJ for comfort. You didn’t have to think about it for long, though, because you heard Rafe’s steps behind you.

“That’s not what I meant.” He said, closing the front door before you could leave as he started again, “That’s not what I meant and you know it.” You turned to look at him, his face still stern and threatening. In that moment, he had nearly lost his soft spot for you. “Why did you leave me?” You asked, your voice cracking as you reduced it to a pathetic whisper.

Rafe’s gaze softened as you watched his emotions flip around in his head. His tight knit eyebrows sunk down as he looked at your tearful eyes and his bloody lips pursed together with regret.

“Baby..” He whispered, slumping down to be closer to your shaking body.

“Don’t..” You whispered, your voice trailing off as you tried to back away, but you just couldn’t. Not when Rafe was looking at you like you were the only woman in the world. Instead, you took a step forward.

“I don’t want to do this, you know that, yeah?” He asked breathlessly, waiting for you to nod hesitantly before he continued, “Don’t want to hurt my baby girl.” Your heart broke he stared down at the ground, trying not to rest himself into your arms.

“Tell me what happened.” You said sternly with a gentle undertone, like a mother lecturing her child.

“I got caught up when I was with Barry and-“ You could tell he was lying by the way his ears turned a hot shade of red.

“Don’t lie.” You interrupted him, reaching up to touch his bloody cheek.

“I’m sorry.” He whispered, relaxing into your touch.

“C’mon.” You said with a sigh, watching his face ease up as you spoke again, “M’gonna take care of you and you’re going to tell me what happened, yeah?” He rolled his eyes in a silent protest as he towered over you, eventually pulling back and letting you walk to the kitchen, following you closely.

You sat him at the kitchen island, wiping the blood from his cuts as you waited for him to talk.

“My new dealer gave me the wrong shit.” He grunted, trying to stifle a wince at the wound disinfectant that you were cleaning him up with. His voice was shaky when he continued, “Went to give him a talk and.. y’know.” You didn’t want to push him, so you nodded along with his words. After Rafe’s short truth, you sat in silence and finished bandaging what you could, wrapping his knuckles with different band-aids.

“I’m sorry.” Rafe said when you finished, looking up at you from his seat, “I love you.”

“I love you too.” You offered, kissing the bandage on his cheek before helping him up, walking upstairs to your shared bedroom.

“We’ll talk tomorrow, m’kay?”

He groaned, eventually giving in and reluctantly agreeing.

“Whatever you say, princess.”

‧˚₊•┈┈┈┈୨୧┈┈┈┈•‧₊˚⊹

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gemstone-roses · 4 months

Text

New Year’s Eve.

Eddie Munson x Reader.

Summary: Eddie overhears you turn down an invite to Steve’s iconic nye party, stating you categorically hate the holiday, so, he invites you to spend the evening with him in his trailer instead.

Warnings; SMUT, 18+ only, p in v MINORS BE FUCKING GONE FROM THIS PLACE , mentions of drug dealing., anxiety, praise kink, hurt/comfort vibes, the holy trinity of my fics. Like soo much praise kink, fingering! This took forever to write but I’m proud of it ok. This work and this blog is intended for adults only. I am not responsible for what content you consume.

A:N - I wanted to post one more fic before the end of the year, I hope you all like it! Thankyou for all the love on this blog this past year, I am so happy my fics have been a source of comfort for some of you, I’m so thankful for all the love. it’s been a tough one for many, including myself, here’s hoping the next is easier on rveryone. Much love to everyone ❤️❤️

“what do you mean you’re not coming!” Steve asks with mock affront, standing at the door of your trailer, your leaning against the door, steaming mug of coffee, untouched, you give Eddie a wave as he leaves his place opposite, he sends you a wicked smile and a wink as he leaves to do his dealings of the day.

You shake your head and chuckle.

“Steve, every year you ask me, every year I say no, my answer hasn’t changed and it won’t” annoyance creeps into your voice unintentionally. Steve opens his mouth feigning hurt before breaking out into a smile.

“Sorry, I just haven’t had my coffee yet, but I hope you have a wonderful party Steve” you smile, and he nods “I understand, I just have to ask you know? Maybe this year will be the year you come”. “You’ve said that every year since we’ve known each other haven’t you” you chuckle, and he nods, swiping his hand through his hair. “Anyway, lots to do, I better be off, have a good night” he waves you off before getting back in his car. You bring your coffee to your mouth, finally. “Spending New Year’s Eve alone sweetheart”? Eddie appears from the side of your trailer, his face in a huge grin you can’t help but smile.

“Yes”. You say. Eddies brow furrows, as he steps into your doorway, his aftershave invades your senses as he places a caring hand on your arm” can’t have that darlin, I’ll be back at 5, come hang with me” he’s says it so casually but the sparkle in his eyes says he’s desperate for you to say yes. You weigh up your options in your head, you were just going to go to bed early and hide under your covers, but the man in front of you makes your breath hitch whenever you see him, and that mouth,god. “Yeah, okay”. You say. And you didn’t think it possible but eddies grin gets wider. “Just come over anytime after five sweetheart” his voice cracks at the end of his sentence and you have to do everything in your power not to groan. “Okay” you whisper. And then he’s gone, leaving you feeling empty without his presence.

5 o clock comes quicker than you thought. Swiftly slipping on a black band tee you pull on a pair of comfy joggers and head over.

The door swings open before you can even knock. “Hey darlin” his eyes are sparkling again as he steps back and does a theatrical bow to show you in. You laugh at his actions as he shuts the door behind you.

“So, sweetheart, you gonna tell me why you hate this holiday so much?” He steps closer to you, his eyes wide with interest. You frown, anxiety pooling in your stomach. “Hey” he says softly. Fingers coming to cup your chin. You look at him, his soft brown eyes make your insides melt slightly. “Did I upset you” he asks and it’s so sweet and unexpected you can’t help but let out a small laugh. “No, god no, I just, it’s silly” you trail off, looking down at the floor. “Not to me” Eddie says softly, and you look up and once more think you might get lost in those eyes. He’s got a reassuring smile on his face, waiting. “I get this impending and unrelenting feeling of doom okay” you whisper, then shut your eyes as if you can hide from the words you’ve said. Eddies fingers caress your face gently. “That’s not silly” he whispers, cupping your face with his big hand. You lean into his comforting touch. “Thankyou”. You whisper, lifting up your hand and placing it on top of his. “You have the most stunning eyes” he mutters before recoiling slightly as if he didn’t mean to say it out loud. “Erm”… he rubs the back of his neck chuckling. “So do you” you say simply. “Ha, thankyou, sweetheart” he laughs awkwardly. The tension in the air hangs between you, you look at Eddie, he looks at you and you think this might be it but then his brows shoot up and he says “Oh my god I didn’t offer you a drink I’m a terrible host” he says suddenly, tripping over himself to get you a soda. “It’s fine! Don’t worry” you assure him. He mutters sorry while he hands you the can and leads you to his room. “So, what would you like to do sweetheart” his grin has returned, and even though he’s asked you you know he’s got something in his mind. “I don’t mind, film?” You say sitting down on his bed pulling your legs up. Eddie stares, completely lost in the moment, watching you do something so ordinary, and you take his breath away. “What?” You ask, burning under his stare. “You’re fucking beautiful” he states. Your heart stops in your chest, mouth falls open and you don’t realise he’s moved closer, he’s sitting opposite you, his hands on your knees, he’s leaning forward slightly, a mix of weed and his aftershave once again enveloping you. You meet his eyes, full of adoration for you, his tongue pokes out to wet his lips and you can’t tear your eyes away. “Can I- kiss you?” He asks and your heart soars as you nod, he crashes his lips to yours and you forget to breathe. The kiss is gentle but firm, he wraps his arm around your waist as he pulls you into him, one hand holds the back of your neck as he runs his long fingers up and down, sending shivers straight to your core. You moan and he stops, panting slightly, he keeps one hand at the back of your neck.

“Eddie” you breathe. “God your incredible” he says, swiping his thumb across your puffy lips, he leans into kiss your neck. He trails sloppy open mouthed kisses down to your collarbone, you writhe underneath him, each press of his lips causing your pussy to throb. “Eddie please” you moan.

‘What do you need sweetheart?” He mutters and it’s the hottest thing you’ve ever heard. “You” you plead, clenching your thighs together to get some, any, form of relief.

“Mm, say it again” he groans, fingers waiting at the edge of your joggers. “I need you Eddie” you moan, pushing your hips up to emphasise your point. Mischief dances across his face as he slowly removes your pants, smiling at the wet patch that’s formed in your panties. He taps his fingers across your clothed pussy, watching as your head falls back in both pleasure and frustration. He bends down, breath fanning over your clothed core. “I can’t wait to feel you come around my cock” he whispers, placing an open mouthed kiss over your dripping pussy, before hooking his fingers through your underwear and pulling them down.

Eddie leans over you as his fingers dance on your inner thigh, one hand bracing on the window behind your head. He bends his head, hovering his lips next to your ear” Spread your legs wider for me darlin” he groans, and then smiles as you do. “That’s it” he says, moving his hand toward your core. “So wet” he comments, pushing his finger inside your hole, his thumb rubbing gentle circles on your clit. He moans as you clench around his finger instantly. “Mm fuck Eddie” you whine as he curls his finger inside you. He captures you in another kiss as he presses his thumb into your throbbing clit. “Ah, Eddie-“ you say, your orgasm fast approaching, he continues, alternating between circling and pressing on your sensitive button, pleasure begins to cloud your vision as he pumps his finger in and out of you, wetness dripping down your thighs.

“That’s it, good girl, come for me sweetheart” he soothes as your orgasm crashes over. He keeps rubbing gentle circles on your clit as you come down from your high, when you open your eyes he’s staring at you, awestruck. “You did so well for me” he praises and Eddie’s cock twitches in his pants watching your reaction to his words. “Eddie, that was amazing” you breathe, and he shoots a wicked smile at you that has heat flooding your body again.

“You okay”? He checks and you nod. “Drink this” he unscrews the cap on a bottle of water for you and places it to your lips. No one has ever bothered to be anywhere near as kind and considerate and your heart once again soars because of the man currently sitting between your legs. Eddie’s cock is painfully hard in his pants as he takes in your post orgasmic state. Sweat pooled on your face, your still panting slightly, come dripping from your pussy onto his bed, Eddie thinks it’s the hottest thing he’s ever seen.

You sit up and pull him into you, his clothed cock pressing into your naked core. He hisses at the contact. “We don’t have to, it’s completely okay if you want to stop darlin” and once again your falling hard, the softness in his voice makes you want to cry. “I don’t want to stop” you say and Eddie places a gentle kiss to your lips before pulling his pants down. His cock strains against his boxers, you reach out and tease the head with your hand. Eddie groans, it’s feral and he places his hands on your shoulders as he nips at your neck. “Lie down for me sweetheart”. Eddie removes his underwear as you do, He positions himself between your legs as you lie back, head hitting his pillow. You push up to see his hard thick cock springing up against his stomach, precum leaking from the tip, it makes your stomach flip and your mouth water. Eddie pumps his cock a few times before rolling a condom down his cock. Eddie pushes gently on your shoulders so you lie back down, he taps his cock a few times on your pussy causing you to moan unexpectedly. He positions himself at your entrance as his hand cups your face. “You okay?” He asks, waiting for your answer before he does anything. You nod, taking a deep breath as you prepare for Eddie to push into you. “Can you go slow?” You whisper, cringing slightly, hoping you didn’t kill the mood. Eddies face softens, “of course I can baby, it’s okay, I got you” he soothes softly, his other hand rubbing the inside of your thigh. His hand comes to circle your clit slowly. “Look at me” he says, and you do. The smile on his face is otherworldly, it brightens everything around you as he studies your face closely, rubbing gentle circles on your clit as he slowly pushes his cock inside you. “Breathe, baby” he comforts as your walls clench around him. “Eddie” you whine, “You’re doing so good for me” Eddie keeps praising you until his cock is nestled deep inside you. Eddie groans at the feeling of you wrapped around him. He stays put until you speak. “Move” you whisper.

Eddie thrusts into you slowly, one hand gently splayed across your lower stomach as he rocks his hips back and forth, your hands grip the sheets beneath you as Eddie’s cock reaches a spot inside you that makes your head spin.

“Mm eddie- you moan as your second orgasm builds, every nerve in your body tingling at his actions

“You feel so amazing clenching round my cock like this darlin, you’re takin me so well” he soothes, your pussy clenches at his words and Eddie moans as you squeeze his cock. “Fuck Eddie I’m gonna-

Eddie’s cock pulses as he feels you clench harder. “Eyes on me darlin” he whispers. You meet his gaze and your head clouds with pleasure again “Good, I got you, your okay, come for me baby, drench my cock, come with me, fuck!” he groans as your pussy tightens around him as you release around Eddie’s cock just as his own orgasm crashes over him.

Your ears ring as you hear muffled praise fall from Eddie’s lips, his touch grounding you as your mind clears. “You were incredible” Eddie whispers, drawing patterns on your hips with his fingers. You smile at the sight in front of you. “Eddie” you croak, voice hoarse. “Yeah darlin” he asks, and the sight of him, sweaty, curls stuck to his face, his face flushed with heat, you wish you could engrave it into your mind forever. “Can we stay like this forever?” You sigh. And Eddie chuckles before grabbing both your hands and fitting them in his. Forever sounds amazing with you”. He whispers, catching your lips in a heated kiss as fireworks light up the sky above.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x you

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alwritey-aphrodite · 4 months

Note

I am begging for any kind of crumbs related to the arranged marriage to Sejanus head cannons please 🙏🏼🙏🏼🙏🏼🙏🏼🙏🏼🙏🏼

Our boy is so smitten <3

Here’s the first part

The more time Sejanus spends with you, the more he can picture your life together. He’s definitely getting ahead of himself, and he doesn’t even know if you have any feelings for him that extend beyond platonic, but he can’t help but fall a little bit in love with you every time he sees you.

The academy students are well known for their teasing and gossip, even if you’d think the best and brightest of Panem would have better things to do than talk about each other all day long. Lately, you and Sejanus have seemed to be the topic of choice, word spreading fast from the rumor mill that is the mothers of the Capital.

Having spent all your life with these kids, you let their comments roll off your back, Sejanus is sensitive, every little quip like a knife to his heart.

“The day Arachne and Festus make me upset is the day that I disappear forever,” you’d told him once, practically dragging him alone as you stomped away from your peers, getting tired of the downcast look in Sejanus’s eyes. All he could focus on in that moment was the way your hand felt in his, and how badly he’d like for you to hold his hand more often.

While most of the time you spend together is at the academy or formal events put together by your parents, you always find an excuse to steal him away, to spend some time with just him in a manner that your parents would find unseemly.

“I know where my father keeps his liquor,” you’d whispered into his ear, and all Sejanus could focus on was the feeling of you impossibly close to him, the sensation of your voice in his ear sending a shiver down his spine. You grab his hand again, gently pulling him from the crowded room and towards your father’s study, where you definitely aren’t allowed.

“We’ll just grab it and go, I promise,” you tell him, sensing his nerves as you ease open the heavy wooden door and disappear inside. It only takes you a second before you reappear, with a bottle in your hand and the most beautiful smile Sejanus has ever seen.

You don’t grab his hand again, even though he wishes you would, but you lead him from the house all the same, passing by your typical spots to make sure no one stumbling from the house will catch the two of you. Passing through a grove of trees, you arrive in a clearing where it would be practically impossible for anyone to find you. Sejanus’s stomach is in knots, a mix of fear of being caught and anxiety at being alone with you.

It’s not that you’re rude or mean or anything like that, you’re almost too lovely for Sejanus to handle. Even before your parents decided to marry you off, you’d always been sweet to Sejanus, sticking up for him against the rest of your peers and going out of your way to make sure he’s feeling alright. It doesn’t help that you’re exceptionally smart and stunningly beautiful, leaving Sejanus reeling every time you look at him.

Now, when you smile at him, a triumphant grin with the liquor bottle in your hand and the moonlight shining across your face, Sejanus could swear he’s never seen anything half as pretty as you. He’d tell you if he wasn’t so nervous, if his voice didn’t get caught in his throat every time he tried to say anything.

Popping off the cap, you take a swig from the bottle before passing it to Sejanus, barely giving him time to process the fact that you’re essentially kissing before holding your hand out for the bottle again. He drinks as quickly as he can, pulling a face as the liquor burns his throat. You laugh, and as much as he wants to join you, his body racks with a cough, only making you laugh harder, liquid sloshing out from the open bottle in your hand.

“Are you trying to poison me?” He asks once he’s recovered, smiling at the way your eyes crease as you take another pull from the bottle.

“We’d both die together, it’d be very romantic,” you take another swig before offering the bottle again, grinning when he waves it away.

Wiping the dirt off the cap, you close up the bottle and set it aside, leaning back on your hands in a way that makes your shoulder brush against Sejanus, sending sparks all across his arm. You tilt your head up to the sky, and feeling certain that he won’t get caught, Sejanus turns his own gaze over to you, admiring the slope of your nose and the curve of your jaw.

He can’t help but want to kiss you, but fearing the moment would be ruined, he settles for just looking at you in this peaceful state, committing your relaxed face to memory. He’s too busy staring to notice the way your eyes shift from the sky over to him, and when you start to smile, he just chalks it up to the liquor.

#sejanus plinth #sejanus plinth x reader #sejanus plinth x you #sejanus plinth fanfiction #sejanus x reader #sejanus x you #the ballad of songbirds and snakes fanfiction #the ballad of songbirds and snakes

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igotanidea · 1 year

Text

The spell: Dean Winchester x reader

„Sam? This better be important ‘cause I’m kinda in the middle of something.”

“I’m using the emergency line, right?”

“Last time Dean used the emergency line it was about lack of pie. I swear he’s older but acts like a complete child sometimes.” Y/N shook her head not that Sam could see that through the phone.

“Yeah.” He agreed “But I would never….”

“Remember the time when you lost a shoe?”

“That was one time Y/N! And it was…. Under different circumstances…..”

“Oh, relax, I’m just teasing. But seriously, go on and tell me what is this about, cause I really am busy.“

“It actually is about Dean…”

“Oh, I had a feeling this day would be intense. What do we deal with? Demon? Jinn? Shapeshifter? Oh, please tell me it’s shapeshifter, those are my favorites.

“A witch, in fact.”

“Fine by me.” Y/N shrugged, unaware that Sam’s words has a second meaning. Only the prolonging silence on the other side made her a bit suspicious “Sam? You’re still there?”

“Yes.”

“So? Where do we meet? At the motel or at the crime scene?”

“Stop talking like a CSI!”

“I am CSI, Sam! Now again, where do we meet?”

“At the motel. But please…..”

She did not let him finish, since Sam was making her impatient by straining information. So she had no idea what was coming for her.

***

“Guys?” Y/n entered the motel room without knocking and two pair of eyes landed on her figure. Sam was his usual self, calm and collected, sitting by the desk, working. But Dean…. Dean was distracted, in the lack of better word. Pacing around like he was suffering from the sudden fit of anxiety. “What the…..?”

“ Should have listened to me….” Sam muttered, while his older brother took one stride towards her and wrapped his arm around her without any word.

“Um… good to see you too, Dean, but what’s with the PDA?”

“Can I just hold you?” he mumbled, begin so out of character

“Yeah… I mean, sure” she frowned, hugging him back. This was unexpected, to say the least. They have been together for a couple of months now, but the older Winchester were mostly keeping his laid back attitude in the relationship. “But…..” she hesitated, but stopped the question. This was actually pretty nice. Having Dean in her embrace like this, being the one he was turning to. It made her heart stutter a bit.

“But what?” he asked pulling away

“You know what, nevermind” she smiled brightly brushing hair from his face “if you need me….”

“I always need you.” he burst without thinking

“ Oh….” She felt her heart skip a bit. That was definitely new and she wasn’t sure whether she should feel the warmth and happiness or rather get worried about his current state. “Um…that’s nice, Dean.” She hugged him again, at the same time peeking over Dean’s arm, mouthing words at Sam asking for explanation. “How about you sit here for a moment, Dean, huh? I just gotta talk to your brother, who surely owns me some explanation.”

“I don’t want to let go of you…..” Dean pouted

“I’m not going anywhere, I swear” she smiled and pushed him onto the chair next to Sam and talking the third left spot. Dean immediately leaned towards her and grabbed her hand, caressing it gently.

“Y/N…..” he turned towards her, begging for attention, even though she was doing nothing more than giving it to him

“Yes, Deanie?” her eyes focused on her boyfriend without any sign of annoyance.

“Come sit on my lap.”

“What?” now she was blushing

“Come on…” Dean patted his thigh but seeing her becoming reluctant, just reached for her, grabbed her waist and put her where he needed her, hugging her to his chest from behind.

“Um…’ she muttered, distracted by his hands. He was doing nothing, just holding her and she was already melting. This was dangerous.

“do you want me to leave you two alone?” Sam laughed, but once he met with Y/n’s murderous gaze covered it by coughing

“Talk!” she shout at him “What happened?”

“You remember when I mentioned the witch?” Sam started

“Yes, of course. Now please, cut to the chase! Not that I’m complaining, but I’d rather have the real Dean back. I want my bickering, teasing and sensitive on the inside boy.” Said boy were currently planting kisses on her neck. “Oh, god, I just can’t ….” She muttered, standing up from Dean’s lap immediately meeting with his sad eyes and mouth curved down. “I’ll be right back to you, sweetie, all right?” she smiled caressing his cheek and facepalming herself on the inside for calling him like that. What the heck was going on. Was it like the “it’s Tuesday again” situation? Did she wake up in alternative reality “Just stay here for a moment. And you.” she turned to Sam “you’re coming with me.”

***

“The charm?” fifteen minutes later Y/N and Sam were sitting in the booth in a crappy diner. The girl being herself ordered herself some pancakes, leaving the younger Winchester to do the talking “Guess I should have connected the dots… what? why are you looking at me like that?” she swallowed a particularly big piece of her dish and frowned

“You and Dean are so similar when it comes to your favorite food.” Sam shook his head and smiled lightly

“I’m hungry! I’ve been on the field for hours and didn’t have breakfast so cut me some slack! Now back to the witch. What do we do to break the spell? Burn her? Capture her? Slave her?”

“We are not doing anything. I’ve already got her location and ….”

“Sam…” Y/N sighed, putting her fork down and looking him straight into the eyes “you know the rules. You know I can’t let you go alone.”

“I’m not asking.”

“I’m not answering .”

“You either leave me alone or Dean. Given his current love-sick puppy state I think it’s pretty clear who need the supervision.”

“Sam…..” her tone became a bit warning

“Come on, Y/N, you know I’m right. It’s an open and close case. No trouble I promise.”

“You always say that….” She muttered “Fine. You really left me no other options, did you?”

“Look on the bright side.” Sam flashed a smile “you get to spend some quality time with you boyfriend. Maybe even get a little action….”

“Shut up Winchester!”

***

“I’m back Dea…. Woah!” she barely get the chance to step through the door when Dean swept her off her feet and spun In the air. “Put me down! Put me down!”

“Oh I may put you down, but I’m not letting you get away, again.”

“Oh please…” she scoffed, but not honestly not being opposed to his actions and switching rather towards teasing him about it “I was gone for like fifteen minutes, surely you did not miss me that….”

She was cut off by his lips on hers. Damn, he was such a good kisser. And because of that spell also needy and maybe a bit desperate. Holy shit… Sam was right, it has been a while since….

“How’s that for not missing?” he asked cupping her cheek and brushing thumb over it. Oh, how she wanted to give in, let him pull her closer… Sad thing, she could not. It was like she told Sam in that diner- she was not opposed to clingy Dean, searching for affection, but this was not him. She needed the assurance that all of his actions were a conscious choice not the side effect of some witchcraft.

“How about we slow down a bit, huh?” she pulled away, or rather tried to pull away, since his large hands stopped her from doing so.

“But I need you…” he whined

“I know honey, but ….”

“What? Why are you always turning away from me?”

“I’m not turning away, love.”

“I love you Y/N.”

“I love you too, Dean and that is why I think you need some rest. Don’t you wanna lay down for just a bit?”

“As long as you stay with me.”

“I will. I promise. Now come on.” She grabbed his hand and lead him towards the motel bed. It was far from comfortable, but both Winchesters and Y/N were already used to that. The girl slowly pushed Dean onto the cushions and reached for the blanket to cover him, but he was way faster. When she moved towards the edge of the bed he grabbed her wrist and pulled her flush onto his chest, sneaking one hand under her shirt, tracing patterns on her bare skin. It was nice. It was really really nice, but she could smell his neediness with every inhale and exhale he was taking. So she moved a bit, just to look into his glistening eyes.

“What do you need, Dean? Tell me.”

“I just want to feel you next to me.”

“I think we got that covered “ she grinned “you practically got me caged here.”

“I’m sorry” he looked down, but she grabbed his chin and met his eyes again

“Stop it, Dean Winchester. You hear me, stop it. If I wanted out, you would never be able to stop me, but I chose to be here. So go on. Talk.”

“Can you just hold me?”

“Sure my pretty boy. Come here.” She laid on her back motioning for him to snuggle into her arms and put his head on her belly, arms locked around her waist. “It’s gonna be all right” she cooed running her fingers through his hair “We’re gonna get you out of this mess. You are not alone, baby.”

***

Two hours later, she found out she fell asleep. The sun was slowly setting over the horizon and instinctively she turned onto the other side, hand searching for Dean but he was not there and her heart fluttered.

“Dean?” she mumbled getting up, rubbing her eyes and walking outside. He was standing by the railing, eyes fixed on the space “Hi….” She whispered slowly approaching him and wrapping arms around his waist, pulling herself closer.

“Hi baby.” He answered closing his eyes.

“Are you… back?”

“Guess Sam did some good work. And by himself. At this point I feel expendable. You two clearly can handle all this shit by yourself. “

“You idiot.” She smacked the back of his head in the lightest hit there ever was “Expendable. You are truly unbelievable. How much do you remember?” her voice trembled a bit.

“All of it.”

“Oh.” She gasped but then smiled “so you do remember the affectionate attitude?”

“Yes.”

“And how needy and whiny you were?”

“Yes.”

“And?” she tilted head trying to get any reaction out of him which clearly was going to be a little challenge. “Was it …. Was It just the spell.”

“No.”

“God, don’t piss me off, Dean.”

“It was all real, all right? Whatever charm this was it made me act the way I felt. Cause I do need you. And I should have told you that sooner.” He turned towards her and reached for her hand “you are important to me. Damn, Y/n, you know I love you, don’t you?”

“Of course I do, Dean.” She assured “you speak through your actions. And frankly ,the way you behaved was not about me. It was all about you.”

“How so?”

“You needed love. Affection. Some softness. Maybe it was all because of the fact you suppress all those needs? Cause you are reluctant to admit you have them? Hm?”

“I;m not even going to answer that.” He mumbled

“Dean, come on. We’re all humans… and yes, I believe that even despite you being a vessel for an angel, you are still human. It’s normal to need someone to hold you and love you. And you got me, so promise me, you won’t hide from me.”

“You want me to be open and honest?” he smirked

“Is that too much to ask for?”

“Yeah. Way, way too much. But I’ll try.”

“I can work with that.”

“Good. Now shut up and kiss me.”

“I thought the effects of the spell were over….” She tapped her chin in reverie

“Guess I do have to take action by myself” Dean mumbled leaning forward and capturing her lips in sweet, gentle, delicate kiss. It was not needy, not anymore. It was a promise from him to try and do better in a relationship. “Shall we take that inside?”

“You had to kill the moment” she rolled her eyes at him “Welcome back, you prick.”

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cameronspecial · 2 months

Text

Let Me Calm Your Mind, Angel

Pairing: Frat!Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings: Description of Anxiety

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 0.5K

Summary: Y/N loves to read, except her brain loves to give her a hard time and Rafe wants to be able to calm her anxiety.

Masterlist

Y/N knows she can’t remember every single detail of the book she reads, but her anxiety tells her that she should. It likes to blame the fact that she speed-reads for making her forget, instead of being a human who can’t hold everything in her mind. Sometimes, she can let it go. Other times, she is riddled with anxiousness and tries to hold on to every single event in the book. Y/N sits on the armchair in the frat house’s living room, reading her book in solitude. This is her second reading of the book. Kelce comes into the living room and starts up a conversation with the girl, which she doesn’t mind as she puts her book down. However, once Kelce is gone, her mind gets on her about reliving every aspect of the book she is reading. The couch creaks under the release of pressure from Kelce rising and leaving the room. Her palm digs into her closed sockets. She can easily remember what happens at the beginning of the book, yet as she gets closer to the middle, the order gets a little more fuzzy. She keeps rearranging the order in which things happen and her mind is screaming at her for being careless. Rafe finds her with her eyes closed and hands covering her face. He spots the book on the coffee table before her, knowing exactly what is wrong with her.

He picks her up and sits where she once was seated. Her bum falls into his lap and he pulls her hands away from her face. “You don’t need to memorize everything about the book,” he mutters to her. She sighs with a slight nod, “I know, but my brain is telling me that I am missing something. And I feel like if I don’t remember it then I didn’t actually read the book.” Rafe’s mouth presses against her forehead and he nods against her skin. “Let me calm your mind, Angel,” he offers. “Did your eyes glance over the words of each page you have read?” Her head bobs. “Can you tell me the plot of the book?” She again indicates that she can. “You always tell me that you reread books to be reminded of certain details of the book. You say if you wanted a play-by-play of the plot, then you would reread the summary you write for the books you read. So tell me, did you come out from reading this book with one more specific detail that you didn’t remember before?” She looks up at him with a smile, “Yeah, um… It’s an enemies-to-lovers book and before they get together, he makes her a plate to eat when they are given their food at a restaurant. It was a family-style restaurant. It was cute.” “Then it sounds to me that your goal of reading the book again was achieved,” he hmms. This helps dull the criticizing voice in her head, “You’re right.” “Are you enjoying the book and do you remember some of the stuff you are reading?” he asks.

“Yeah.”

“Well, then tell that beautiful brain of yours to leave you alone. I don’t like it when it bothers you like that.”

“It’s harder to do than you think, Rafe.”

“I know, so how about I read you the rest of your book and you can blame me if you forget anything, Angel.”

“I think that is an acceptable compromise.”

Taglist: @winterrrnight @loves0phelia @thelomlisrafecameron @wickedlovely121 @thepatriarchykeychain @drewsmusee @starkowswife @maybankslover @forstarkey @loving-and-dreaming

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fairies-in-the-garden · 8 months

Text

he holds me in his big arms, drunk and i am seeing stars

pedro pascal x reader | 1.3k words

summary: after a night out, your best friend pedro accompanies you in a taxi to ensure you get home safely. but as things take a long-forbidden turn, your relationship may never be the same.

notes: best friend pedro!!! fluff. slight jealous pedro. secret mutual pining. idiots in love. neck kissing! mention of alcohol consumption.

a/n - i honestly hate this, it could have been so much better but i got stuck with it. maybe i'll rewrite it in the future... with smut mwahaha

--- --- ---

the cool city air turns dramatically stiff and warm against your burning skin as the door of the taxi is pulled shut.

“do you have your house keys on you?” pedro asks with tenderness; hand going to your cheek to turn your face to him.

you grunt in response, completely unaware of what’s left his mouth, let alone anything that's going on. in your current state, everything is but a jumble of nonsense hitting wildly ringing ears. he knows that. it'd be an impossible task to quiz you further, so he doesn't.

you hear muffled conversation as he blurts out his own address. with hurried eagerness the taxi accelerates onward into the night.

your body is particularly numb, limbs wobbly and loose, as you struggle to remain upright in the backseat. for some time, with all your might, you try to fight the inevitable collapse of your upper body. but as the taxi takes a brisk turn, you're a goner. with a defeated sway you begin to fall forward, caught firmly by gentle hands around your waist.

"atta girl, i got you." that all too familiar voice rings sweetly in your ears. brought backward, pedro lays your upper body against his chest, steadying you with care in his hold.

you groan from the movement, though slow and brief. your head pounds at an extreme rate - no thanks to the alcohol, of course - but made no better by the tight pins holding up your once perfect updo. you groan again, this time more audible and with more distress in your tone.

"what is it?" pedro asks, fearing the position he has you in is an uncomfortable one. "my head..." you say, trailing off at the end, unable to finish your thought. everything is too much.

as if a mind reader - although in actuality from knowing you better than you ever have yourself - pedro's hands make way to your head. carefully he removes pin by pin. as your hair falls to your shoulders, pedro's hands do not leave their place in it. in gentle circles, his fingers make way across your scalp, messaging it with care.

his touch so easily accepted makes pedro's mind wander; an all too common mix of anxiety and a bit of jealousy taking over him. how did you get to such a state? this isn't exactly like you. did someone coax you? he can't help his bothersome thoughts as he plays with your soft hair.

his blood boils at the thought of having not gotten to you when he did. of someone else getting to you first; someone with ill intent. he should have never left your side.

as pedro's mind continues to linger to dark places, his fingers tangle further into your hair, pressing harder right where you need him to most.

your eyes shut instinctively, head falling back onto his left shoulder. as your body melts into his, you're unable to stop what comes next - as your lips part in pure ecstasy, a soft moan falls from them.

your eyes shoot suddenly open. for a moment, it seems utter self-consciousness manages to sober you up. cheeks blushing instantly, you say a little prayer in hopes he somehow hadn't just heard that.

oh but he had. with that sweet little noise, all his worries leave him. you're here. you're with him. you're safe. the knot is his stomach settles, turning into something else...

against his own will, pedro's cheeks are a bright blushing red, his pants shamefully tighter than they'd been moments before. he wished it hadn't had such an affect on him. that you didn't have such an affect on him. oh but you always have.

the taxi is silent aside from blaring horns on the outside and nervously beating hearts on the inside. in an attempt to hide your flushed face, convinced he can see it from behind you, you tilt your head away from him. but that only makes him see you more.

the city lights twinkle on your face in a way he imagines it would only do to angels. your eyes flutter closed, lashes heavy yet somehow still so soft. he tries to stop himself, but he can't help but look to your lips; plump and pink from a night of bottles pressed sweetly to them.

against his better judgement, as though, rather, he is the drunk one, pedro lets his hands wander. trailing down from your hair, his hand moves loose strands away from your neck. eyes transfixed, his fingers linger on the soft, warm skin just below your ear.

"pedro," you whisper softly, a mess under his gentle, telling touch. the bashfulness you just felt, now softening.

swiftly, before reason can stop him, he buries his head in the crook of your neck. his lips, wet and hot, leave agonizing kisses along your burning skin. he remains there for a moment, lost in it.

leaning your head into his, your body can't help the way it reacts to him. it never can. you've always wondered how this would feel, you and him. and the feeling is one of overwhelming perfection. his hand trailing down to rest at the base of your neck is enough to make your legs shut eagerly tight - the need for friction harrowing.

pedro nips softly at your skin, earning another soft moan as your back arches against him.

as he raises himself from his place in your neck, there is a moment in which you think you should slide over, away from him. he thinks just the same. if you both were to shift apart, turn to look out your own windows, and not speak another word - all could be forgotten. yet neither one of you can bear the thought of it.

turning your head to face his, your eyes meet for the first time tonight. his are dark and sparkling, you imagine yours are as well.

you can't help but let your mind wander to the place in which you'd so often had to forbid it to go. flickering down to his lips, wet and rouged, you want to kiss him. it's not the first time you had wanted to. the only difference is that this time, you don't think you're going to stop yourself.

as you lean in closer, you watch his eyes fill with worry, with guilt. stopping halfway, you speak softly, longingly, "kiss me again... please..." you trail off, still regrettably a bit drunk. you breathe shallowly, trying to gain some soundness in your voice, "a real kiss."

he winces at the sound of your slurred voice, eyes like a puppy's. his hands come up to cup your fiery cheeks as he speaks affectionately, with caution, "i can't, honey. you're not sober. i shouldn't have even done that."

he is the most respectful person you know, always has been, but right now you wish he'd just take advantage of the moment - of you.

your lips fall into a pout, "i liked that you did. i've always..." you don't know how to make sense of how you're feeling, how you always have, or how to put it into words. but he understands you somehow.

"i've always wanted to kiss you too." he states, thumb rubbing circles on your cheek. you lean into his touch, eyes closing to take the moment in.

"you're so beautiful, y/n..." your eyes open, looking up to him shyly from his words. from the last time you'd seen yourself in a mirror earlier in the night, you knew you looked a mess.

"even like this?" you say, cracking an uneasy smile.

"even like this." he states, returning a smile bright as the stars.

"please kiss me..." you plead again, your eyes now the ones puppy-like. you don't want the opportunity to slip away. for him to slip away.

he slowly leans forward. happily, you close your eyes in long-awaited anticipation. lips ready for his, you're caught by torturous surprise when pedro's press tenderly to your forehead, instead.

pulling back, he tilts your head to look up at him once more. "we can talk more about it in the morning." he states with a kind grin. he's truthful, you know that, but you need to be sure.

"promise?" oh please don't let this be over.

"i promise."

leaning back into the seat, pedro opens his arms for you to sink into. as the ride continues, the streets outside become more and more familiar - a sign you're almost to his home. wrapped in his grasp, you already feel like you're there.

#pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fluff #best friend pedro #best friend pedro pascal #pedro #pedro pascal x you

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blingblong55 · 10 months

Text

To live without- 141 + Alejandro

Based on a request:

Hii can I make a request for some angst?? Maybe the reader having an argument with the TF 141 + Alejandro, inside the car or anywhere resulting to a break up?? Cause I'm a sucker for angst, thankss 🫶

F!Reader, angst, established!relationship, break-ups, cheating (not all)

A/N: This will be in 5 parts

Part 2, (Soap), Part 3 (Gaz), Part 4 (Alejandro), Part 5 (Ghost)

It has been a stressful few months for him, between his job, you, his own safety and yours, let alone the current argument over her. It's why you and he are now in the car, having this argument.

Price:

He decided that since Laswell invited him to dinner with a few other soldiers and agents, why not take you? Besides you and him haven't gone out much since his last deployment, so this is the perfect opportunity. While having dinner at some restaurant, Price and a woman, much closer to his age than you, stroked conversation. He was telling her stories that not once he had told you and of course, his natural flirty state was in the mix. You were talking with Kate and her wife when you saw how close the woman was getting with your boyfriend. So, as one does, you took his hand and he immediately let go of it, not once making eye contact with you.

Kate and her wife saw this and knew it would not end well if the woman was not taken elsewhere. After dinner, you were the first one to leave the establishment. All others inside were either saying their goodbyes or getting acquainted. "yeah, this is my-" he turns to introduce you to some agent only to find your seat empty. Immediately he left too, only to find you in the car, probably telling your friend what was going on. He gets in, " alright, so will you tell me what the hell that was about?" he asks you. You look at him, for a while now he has been distant, so of course you had even more motives to suspect him. "You let go of my hand," your voice soft yet hinting at some hurt his past action left behind.

That was it, the final straw that threw him over the edge, "you fucking walked away from dinner because I didn't hold your hand any longer?!"

"Yes, do you even care how that even looks? I hold your hand all the time at dinners and this was the first time you let go of it because of that woman!"

"Don't you dare bring her into this." by this point some of the wine he had drunk was making its way into his system. "Why not, hm? why did you let go of my hand, John!" your eyes teary, trying to blink them away. "You really think this is all about you? That I intend to hurt you by some little thing like letting go of your hand?!" Your argument is being heard by some people. He knows better, that at dinners or in public when you hold his hand it's because you are trying to calm yourself down, your social anxiety gets the best of you and his hold brings comfort. "...she's just a friend.." he murmurs. And just when you were going to say something, he gets a text, "Will you come over after you drop her off?" he knows damn well you saw it and now he is prepared for the storm. "you are cheating on me?" oh the way your voice cracked and how tears spilt from your eyes. "...sorry," was all he could say. "you let go of my hand because you and this fucking whore have a thing!" back to yelling. "R/n, you are just a fucking pain in the ass! So of course I am cheating on you!" the instant regret once those words left his mouth.

The look on your face as he said them, never to forget the last time he saw that face of yours. And now you are far from him, he alone in his empty house, never to be called home again. Never to be greeted by you and your happy personality, truth be told, he still looks for you in every place he goes.

A/N: Hi, so since I don't want to make this post too long I separated it into parts, who do you want for part 2?

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soursturniolo · 6 months

Note

I’m ADDICTED to angsty fics where Matt or chris get in an argument with the reader and they move their hand and reader flinches and then it’s all soft and comforting and sweet PLS WRITE THIS I NEED MORE OF THESE FICS KAY

I GOT YOU BABY

Trauma Response • Matt Sturniolo

Pairing: Matt Sturniolo/Reader

Summary: An argument triggers the reader, and Matt is there for comfort and support.

TRIGGER WARNING: light discussion of a past, physically abusive relationship. If you or someone you know is experiencing domestic violence, know that you are not alone and there’s help out there. Domestic Violence Hotline: 1-800-799-7233, or text START to 88788

“I just wish you would listen to me this one fucking time,” Matt gritted out, voice low and irritated.

“Matt, it’s just a little get together, and my best friend is going,” I explain softly. I hate confrontation, Matt knows this, but he’s being so insistent that I don’t go to this little kickback tonight and I don’t understand why.

“Tell her she shouldn’t go either! I’m being so for real right now, people I know going to that party are bad news, babe, don’t go.” He demands, stepping closer to me, at this point we’re maybe a foot apart from each other, standing in the middle of our bedroom.

“Why are you being so controlling right now? This isn’t like you, Matt, and I don’t like it,” I tell him, crossing my arms.

“IM NOT!” He yells, making me roll my eyes.

“Yes you literally are,” I tell him.

Matt lets out a loud and frustrated groan as he brings his hand up quickly. I immediately flinch away, shrinking in on myself as I step back.

Everything pauses.

“Baby?” Matt asks, voice soft and sounding heartbroken. I peak up at him, and see where his hand had went. He was reaching up to fix his earring, not what I had instinctively thought. His gaze is sad and concerned, eyes wide and teary looking as he gazes at me.

“Matt, I-“ I start, but my voice shakes and I can’t find the words to say right now.

Matt slowly lowers his hand back down from fixing his earring. He also takes a step back from me.

“You think I’d hit you?” He asks me, voice breaking at the end.

“N-no, Matt, it’s not,” I trail off, once again having trouble speaking. I still feel panicked and anxious, but I know it’s past traumas affecting me right now. I know Matt would never lay a hand on me that way, logically. He’s not that kind of man. But trauma and logic don’t always get along, and Matt doesn’t really know about my past trauma.

“Are you afraid of me? Baby, please, I don’t care how angry I ever am, I’d never-“ Matt has to pause as he gets choked up. A tear runs down his cheek and I break, beginning to cry as I step forward, wrapping my arms tightly around him as a burrow my head into his chest.

“I’d never hurt you sweetheart, never, I don’t want you to be afraid of me” he says, sniffling lightly as I feel him press a kiss to my head. I nod against his chest. We stand there in the middle of his room just holding each other for I don’t know how long as we calm down. In this moment, Matt needed the comfort just as much as I did.

Once I feel back in control of my emotions and my anxiety leaving my body, I pull back slightly so Matt and I can look at each while still in each other’s arms.

“Matt, I know you’d never hurt me, I know that and I need you to know it too,” I tell him softly.

His eyes are red and watery still as he nods.

“I promise you I’d never, I love you,” he tells me, making me smile.

“I know, I love you too,” I respond.

He then asks the question I knew would come, but was dreading.

“Why did you flinch away from me, though?” He asks me gently.

“You know about the guy I dated before you? The one I never talk about,” I begin, to which Matt nods.

“I’m not ready to talk about it all, but sometimes, he’d get physical with me when he was mad, that’s why I flinched. That’s why I hate confrontation so much, it can take my straight back to that feeling I had with him” I explain.

Matt’s jaw clenches a bit as I see him swallow dryly. I can tell hearing this is hard for him, which I hate.

“Hey, I got out, that guy is states away with no idea where I am, I’m safe now, I’m with you,” I assure him.

He nods, and pulls me back into his chest, his arm snug around my waist as his other hand comes up to cradle the back of my head, holding me firmly but gently to his chest.

“I’m so sorry you were ever with a guy like that. I swear to you, I’ll never hurt you. I’ll never lay a finger on you in any way you don’t want. No matter how upset or angry we are. I love you.” he vows to me.

“I love you too,” I tell him, before leaning up and kissing him on the lips. He kisses me back so softly and gently, like I’m made of fine china.

“Thank you for trusting me enough to share that with me, I know even talking about that a little bit has to be hard, baby. I’m so proud of you, you’re so strong,” he whispers to me as he reaches up and tucks a piece of my hair back behind my ear.

“Thank you, Matty,” I smile.

“I’m sorry I got so upset about the party you want to go to with your friend tonight. If you want to go still that’s fine. I can’t control you, and I’m sorry it came off that way. I just know some of the guys who plan to go tonight and they’re all bad news. Really bad news. And I don’t want you to get hurt, that’s all” he explains to me.

“No, you’re right then, if they’re bad news I’d rather not be around that, I’ll text her and let her know too, we shouldn’t go,” I agree.

That evening Matt and I stayed in, opting to watch a movie in bed together. As I drifted to sleep, surrounded by warm blankets and Matt’s arms, I knew I’d always be safe and looked out for, and I’d never have to worry about going through anything like my past relationship brought me.

#sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo #matt sturniolo fanfiction #matt sturniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo fic #matt sturniolo x you #matt sturniolo x reader #matthew sturniolo

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turvi · 11 months

Note

Hi, can you write snape x reader (she’s his wife) little bit angst and fluff. Maybe they’re in middle of argument. Thank you

thank you for the request. Sorry for the delay life has been a bit busy. I hope you enjoy this.

Y/n flinched when she heard the door slam. She knew Severus was doing this on purpose. She kept preparing dinner, ready to ignore him, when his baritone voice that once comforted her interrupted her peace. "Can we talk? Or are you going to be a child about this?"

Her jaw clenched, and the grip around the knife tightened at his cold tone. "Says the person who is acting like a child right now."

"You are so stubborn. I regret being with you." his voice echoed across their home as silent tears fell down Y/n's cheek. Severus realised he had a problem with speaking first and thinking later. But it was too late before Severus could say anything Y/n gathered her stuff and went to the guest room.

"Y/n, please stop. I didn't mean that." he tried to touch her but winced when she pulled away from his touch.

"You must be thinking about it so much. That's why you said it. Didn't you? You don't trust me. You think I will run away with the second man I find on the street" Y/n was closing her door when Severus stopped her. "Please, darling, just listen to me. I am sorry."

"I can't talk to you, Severus. Not when we both are angry at each other." Y/n closed the door. His heart dropped at her cold tone. He knew he had messed up when she talked to him in such a way because she had always talked to him like he was her whole world.

Severus trusted her, but the voices in his head were much stronger than the voice in his heart. They convinced him that Y/n didn't love him anymore and she would leave him like everyone did. He felt like he was at Hogwarts again. All alone, scared, trembling in a corner as nightmares engulfed his brain.

He paced the living room, cold sweat forming on his palm as the clock ticked loudly across the hall. He went up to the door, not attempting to open it but leaning on it, trying to comfort his anxiety. "I am sorry, Y/n. Please....please I...I can't live without you. I was angry, and I was not thinking, and I know it's not a good excuse. You can be angry about it all you want, and you can take out your anger on me, but please...please don't leave me..please."

Severus broke down as he clung to the door. A few minutes later, the door opened, and he immediately looked up. Y/n's bloodshot eyes and tear-strained cheeks broke his heart. Severus clung to her hips, his forehead on her stomach as he mumbled sorry.

Y/n finally said, "Severus, when you said you regret being with me."

He immediately tightened his grip around her. "I didn't mean it. I apologise. I was angry...please...just be patient with me. I know I am asking a lot with the way I behave. But I love you too much to let you go, and I promise... promise to never make you doubt how much I love you. You are my life, my better half."

He took a breath of relief when he felt her hand caressing his hair, untangling the locks and kissing his forehead. He repeated the words against her lips, "I'll be better...for you...just please don't leave me."

Y/n kissed him, wiping his tears, "I won't leave you, but I won't forgive you until you make an effort to trust me, Severus, because I trust you."

"I understand, darling...I promise I will make an effort for you." he stood up from the ground and walked towards his bedroom. He was surprised to find Y/n making her way to their bed. He bit back a smirk knowing this was an inappropriate time to gloat. He simply led himself into her arms. He shivered when he felt her hand on his stomach.

He put his hand on her, feeling the coldness of the metal ring, reminding him she was still his, and he made a new vow to be a better husband to her.

A/N: I hope you like this. Sorry, I have been a bit busy with this life stuff. REBLOG AND COMMENTS IF YOU LIKE THIS

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marie-swriting · 5 months

Text

What If - Jake "Hangman" Seresin

Masterlist

Summary : After having an accident, Jake wants to live in the moment even more and take your relationship a step forward, but do you ?

Warnings : Bradshaw!Reader (Reader is Bradley's younger sister by two years), mention of plane accident, mention of deaths (parents and best friend), fear of losing loved ones, proposal, angst, sad ending, implied struggling with mental health, maybe some grammatical mistakes as English is not my first language, tell me if you see some or if I missed any warnings.

Word count : 4.6k

French version

Song inspiration : Champagne Problems by Taylor Swift

You run in the hospital hallways, searching for room 322. Your anxiety increases with every step you take. Your destination seems unreachable. Your eyes are filled with tears but you hold them back. However, the second you walk through the door 322, they run free on your cheeks. Seeing Jake’s body laying down on the bed, hurt, doesn’t help to reduce your stress. Hearing you walking in the room, Jake gives you a big smile as if he didn’t almost die the day before. You get closer to him, examining him a bit more while wiping your cheeks. His left arm is in a sling, his head is bandaged and he has several cuts on his face.

“So, I heard you like bad boys,” Jake starts with a cocky smile, “is this good enough for you?”

“Jake, this is not the time to make jokes. You could have died!” you retort, sitting on the chair next to his bed.

“And I didn’t. I’m here and alive.”

“And hurt.”

“The fact is I’m alive. Thanks to your brother.” he specifies, showing Bradley with his chin.

“At least, we now know who is the best pilot.” your brother jokes.

“In your dreams, Rooster, I just wanted to test your ability to react quickly.”

“You’ll do your pissing contest later, tell me how you’re feeling.” you ask, still panicked.

“I’m fine. I almost don’t feel anything thanks to the meds. Y/N, I am fine, really.” Jake promises you, taking your hand with his right one.

“I’m gonna leave you alone.” Bradley informs you by pressing your shoulder. “Get some rest, Hangman.”

“I’m sorry for worrying you.” Jake says once you’re alone.

“Trust me, it’s not just worrying. I really thought… For a moment, I was sure…” you stutter, a tear rolling down your cheek again.

“I know, I’m sorry. Come here.” he invites you, moving in the best way so you can lie down.

“No, I might hurt you.”

“I don’t care.”

Reluctantly, you get closer to the bed. You think of the best way you could get in bed without hurting him. Jake rolls his eyes before dragging you towards him with his abled arm. You find yourself next to him and you put your head in the crook of his neck, inhaling his natural scent and the hospital.

“Don’t ever do that again. I can’t lose you.” you mutter.

“You won’t lose me. I promise.” Jake affirms, forcing you to look at him. “I love you, Y/N.”

“I love you, Jake.”

You give a small smile then you press your lips against Jake’s. Your kiss isn’t as passionate as it could be, yet it shares all the love you feel.

Once the night comes, you refuse to leave Jake. You literally beg the nurses to let you stay the night. At first, they insist on you leaving, nonetheless when you explain how scared you were to lose your boyfriend and how you can only stay in San Francisco for two days due to your job, they accept. Therefore, you’re currently on the chair in the corner of the room with a thin blanket. Jake wanted you to stay with him on the bed but you said you wouldn’t, you are afraid you might hurt him while sleeping. Your unimportant argument lasted thirty minutes but you stood your ground until the end.

Tired because of his medicines, Jake fell asleep in a few minutes. As for you, you stay awake, watching his chest rise and fall at the rhythm of his breaths. You don’t dare to look away, fearing that by doing so, he might stop respiring.

Notwithstanding, with the hours passing by and with all the emotion you felt, Morpheus comes to embrace you in his arms. At first, your sleep is relaxing though as soon as you start dreaming, your breathing quickens. You see Jake lying on the ground unconscious, you hear your own heart-rending scream when Bradley tells you about an accident, you smell the rain while the coffin sinks in the ground, you touch the tears on your fingers whilst you’re wiping your cheeks and finally, you feel your own heart that seems like it stopped beating in your chest.

You wake up jumping at that last sensation. You calm down your breathing while you stare at Jake, wanting to make sure he’s still alive in his hospital bed. You can’t see his chest moving, you panic then you stand up from the chair and run to him. Jake lightly opens the mouth before closing it several times and then changing position in the bed. Seeing him moving makes you sigh in relief.

Jake is okay. Jake is alive. Jake is not dead. Jake will not die.

No matter how many times you repeat those sentences like a mantra, your anxiety still doesn’t leave your body. Tears threaten to really stream down your face so you discreetly leave the room. Thankfully, the corridor is empty, allowing you to cry your eyes out. You hold back sobs as much as you can. If you sobbed, you would wake Jake up for sure.

You need a moment to calm down your tears. Seeing Jake hurt because of his work in the Navy overwhelmed you so much for several reasons. The first one being because you love Jake and you don’t want to lose him. The second one is because of the buried memories. Your dad died when you were still a baby and Bradley was only two. You don’t have memories of him but you know how much his death affected your mom. The loss of your father isn’t the only one haunting you. You also lost your best friend Lucy. You had been friends with her since you were four years old. You were inseparable until she enlisted in the army and died at twenty.

Receiving Bradley’s call about Jake gave you a glimpse of what your mother and Lucy’s mom went through, a trial you always hoped you’d never face.

Once you're sure you won’t fall apart, you go back in the room. By some miracle, Jake didn’t hear you leaving or entering, probably because of the medicine - normally, he’s a light sleeper. You walk back to the chair and stay awake the whole night, you don’t want to sit through another tragic scenario made by your brain.

The next day, you stay with Jake until the evening. You don’t want to leave him behind in the hospital, however, you have work so you don’t have a choice. Bradley promises you he’ll stay with Jake until his family comes during the week-end and he’ll keep you updated on Jake’s health. You only trust Bradley for this, you know Jake might not tell you everything to not worry you.

When you’re back home, you find your apartment dull. What is supposed to make you feel better can’t comfort you whilst in your mind, you get more lost in your deepest fears. The fact you’re in the process of moving out doesn’t help.

Jake and you are supposed to get a small house together. You should have the keys in two weeks, his deployment was supposed to be over by then. A few days ago, you were still looking forward to leaving your apartment and living with the man you love and now, you don’t know anymore.

Your relationship has always been exceptional, not only because he’s a good man but also considering that, before him, you wouldn’t allow yourself to date an army man. You always knew your mother as a half empty shell so you always wanted to protect yourself from the same deadly fate and the loss of Lucy didn’t help either. You’re already worried about losing your brother and Maverick, whom you consider as your uncle, you don’t want to risk losing your partner, too. Therefore, you had always refused to fall in love with a man like this. Before, you could do it until Jake appeared in your life; just like his personality, his entrance in your life was loud. You tried to resist it but your heart didn’t give you a choice so, for the first time, you broke your own rule. Your relationship with Jake is the most beautiful one you’ve ever had and you have no regrets about it. You used to have no regrets about it. His accident was a good reminder of how dangerous his job is.

Until you came home, you tried to shut down your fears and your doubts though, now, in your half-empty apartment, you can’t ignore it anymore. That night, you can’t sleep, your mind too busy to torture you.

Unfortunately for you, your mind doesn't give you one second of peace. The following days, you doubt your whole relationship with Jake, imagining the worst case scenarios in which he’d die during several milestones : your first house together, your wedding, pregnancies, anniversaries. The list never seems to end. You can’t be optimistic about it. You’re completely lost in your worries to the point where you end up living like a robot. You’re making yourself sick while anticipating the worst.

Your downward spiral is interrupted a week later by a knock on your door one morning. At first, you ignore the noise, comfortably staying in your discontent. However, when the person insists, you leave your bed and open them, not without sighing, annoyed. You’re about to tell the person to leave but the presence of Jake stops you. He wasn’t supposed to come back to San Diego right now and yet, here he is, in front of you, a big smile on his face and his left arm still in the sling and his wounds on his face starting to fade.

“Jake? What are you doing here? You still need to rest!”

“I know, I wanted to see you though and I couldn’t wait so I took the night train at the last minute. Can I come in?” Jake asks and you let him in, still surprised.

“Why didn’t you call me? I could have come during the weekend.”

“I wanted to surprise you. You’re okay ? You look under the weather.” he observes, stroking your cheek.

“I should ask you this, you’re the one who almost died not even a week ago.” you answer, taking his hand in yours.

“I’m better, Y/N. Even Bradley told you so. The recovery is gonna be long but I’ll be okay.”

“I’ll believe it when I see it.”

“I love when you go all mother hen. It’s cute.” he says, kissing your cheek and you let go of a laugh.

“You’re an idiot. Let’s go to the living room.” you invite him, starting to walk. “Do you want something to drink?”

“No. I just want to talk to you.” Jake informs you.

“About what?”

You frown when he prevents you from sitting on your couch. He slowly strokes your hand before taking a deep breath.

“Look, you know I always try to enjoy the present and with this accident, it really made me realise how precious what we currently have is. I don’t want to waste any seconds, I want to enjoy every moment with you. There is something I’ve been meaning to tell you for a moment now but I would keep telling myself it might be too early so I always pushed it back then I talked about it with my mom and she convinced me to jump in with both feet.”

“Jake, what do you mean?” you question, stress twisting your stomach.

“Y/N,” Jake resumes, looking deeply in your eyes, “since the second I saw you, I knew you were the woman made for me. I knew you were worth the fight, even if, at first, you wouldn’t pay attention to me. You’re the most intelligent, funny, compassionate and beautiful woman I know. We will have our own house soon and I can’t wait to reach this milestone with you but I’d love for us to reach another one.” he confesses, putting one knee down and your eyes are wide open.

“Jake.”

“Y/N, will you do me the honour of becoming my wife?”

“Wh-what ?” you stutter and Jake nervously laughs.

“Will you marry me?”

“Are you serious?” you question, dropping his hand.

“Huh, yes, I even have the ring.” he specifies, taking out the ring from his pocket, “Though I gotta admit, I think of saying it’s just a joke right now, you’re making me nervous.”

“I’m just surprised. I don’t know what to say.” you defend yourself.

Your eyes are set on Jake’s ring. You’ve seen it before. He’d shown it to you the day you first met his parents a year ago. It’s his great-grand-mother’s ring. It’s simple but you find it beautiful.

“It’s easy, say yes or no.” Jake replies with an anxious smile.

“Jake, we’ve only been together for two years.” you argue and Jake stands up.

“We don’t have to get married next year. We can be engaged for several years. We can wait before calling each other husband and wife, but I have to admit I’d love to, at least, call you my fiancée.”

“Jake, I can’t.” you end up saying.

“What, do you have a first husband in your attic or something?” Jake laughs and you see the panic in his eyes.

“No, I can’t marry you.”

Your sentence sounds like a fatal blow in Jake’s ears. He stays silent, staring at you without understanding what’s going on. He gets a grip on himself when his phone rings in his pocket. Jake knows it’s his mom. She knew he was going to propose today and she is impatient to call you her daughter-in-law. However, it looks like it won’t be the case. Jake opens his mouth several times before managing to utter something:

“What? Why?”

“I… I can’t.”

“But I love you, we love each other. You love me, right?” he asks, doubtful.

“Of course I love you, Jake, more than I ever loved before.” you promise him, making him frown.

“What’s the problem then?”

“I don’t want to marry you.”

If your first refusal already seemed awful to him, the sentence you just said is the final blow. The fact that you don’t want to marry him breaks his heart. He’s lost. It was supposed to be a joyful moment and yet, the ground is falling apart under him.

“What? Did something happen? Did I do something? I… I thought everything was fine between us.”

“It is.”

“Y/N, you have to stop being vague, I don’t understand anything.” he retorts with a strong tone. “What’s going on?”

“You should leave.”

“No, We have to talk about it. You can’t tell me you love me then tell me you don’t want to marry me. Talk to me, Y/N, you have to talk to me. Give me a reason, at least.”

“You wouldn’t understand.” you answer, avoiding his eyes.

“If you explained to me, maybe I’d understand. Are… Are you breaking up with me? Is that why you haven’t been calling me lately?” he questions, desperately searching for an explanation for your behaviour.

“I’ve just been thinking a lot and I think it’s best if we stop right now. I’m sorry, Jake, but I can’t keep being with you. You’ll find someone with whom you’ll share your life with and who will want to marry you.”

“I want it to be you.” he says with a weak tone, tearing up.

“Jake, please.”

“Very well then.” Jake accepts, hurt in his eyes.

Jake turns around and at the rhythm of his steps, your heart breaks whilst you’re looking at him walking to the door. You begged him to leave and yet, you only want to scream at him to come back to you and to hold you in his arms while you apologise. Yet, you stay silent. Jake doesn’t look back when he closes the door.

Once you’re alone, you fall down on your couch. In your head, you convince yourself it’s the best decision. After all, you should feel relieved, now, you don’t have to worry about losing Jake because of his job anymore. Nevertheless, your mind is not calm. You don’t know which way to turn but for different reasons. You wish it was different, it was easier, he had another job, you weren’t afraid. You spend the night crying while removing every trace of Jake in your apartment and unpack some boxes. You have to move on right now before you lose yourself a bit more.

You haven’t talked to Jake for three weeks. He tried to contact you but you ignored every one of his calls. He first wanted to fix your relationship before understanding it was too late, though he wants explanations, explanations you keep for yourself. You don’t want to tell him, you know it’s ridiculous. Why end a relationship given a potential “what if” when everything is fine? However, you also know if you had moved ahead with Jake, you would have ended up sabotaging your relationship. Technically, it’s what you did though at least, you didn’t have to call lawyers to leave his life.

Bradley tried to call you, too, and just like for Jake, you ignored him. Jake probably told him about your break up and Bradley, always being the honourable man, wants to fix the situation. Except the situation can’t be fixed. You don’t want to fix the situation.

When you come back from work that day, you’re surprised to discover your brother at your doorstep. Without thinking, you run in his arms. Sure, you’ve been ignoring him lately but you missed him. The last time you saw each other, you were too focused on Jake to pay attention to him. He holds you in his arms and strokes your back. As soon as you break your embrace, you let Bradley in. You go to your kitchen while talking about banality. Whilst walking, Bradley pays attention to your apartment and notices there isn’t a picture of Jake anymore. Once you’re sitting at the table, you stay silent, waiting for who will be the first to talk about the subject.

“We should talk about the elephant in the room, don’t you think?” Bradley says after a few minutes.

“There’s nothing to say.” you retort, tensed.

“Y/N, you threw away a two years relationship for no reason.”

“I have my reasons.”

“Which are? Jake is probably curious to know them.”

“If you came here to make things better, you’re wasting your time, Brad’.”

“You can’t act like that and expect to not justify yourself. You were happy with Jake, you love him and you broke up without giving a warning. I have to admit when he told me you refused his proposal, I was shocked. I thought you were gonna say yes without hesitating.”

“You knew?”

“He asked me before coming here. I confess, I laugh at him, I didn’t expect him to ask for your hand or give me a heads-up, like he said.” Bradley informs with a smile, thinking back to the memory. “Everything was good between you two, wasn’t it? So why?”

“It’s better like this. He’ll have a wife who knows how to stay and I won’t suffer.”

“Wait, is all of this because of the parents and Lucy?” he questions, understanding the reason. “You’re still with this stupid no-dating-army-guy rule? I thought we were over with it! Y/N, you can’t ruin your life just because you’re scared.”

“I don’t want to end up like mom! You can’t blame me! We were kids but you can’t deny there was a before and an after with mom. She wasn’t laughing like she used to, she wasn’t smiling like she used to. She was the shadow of her former self. I don’t want to go through this if Jake were to die.” you confess.

“It’s because of his accident, isn’t it?”

“It reminded me he could die at any given moment with his work.”

“Just like he could die off-duty. He can have an accident, have a heart attack, choke while eating. You don’t know what will happen in the future. You can’t condemn yourself ‘cause you’re too afraid he might die while flying. It’s ridiculous.” Bradley affirms, resolutely.

“I’m already afraid of losing you and Mav’ and I already lost Lucy and we lost dad, I don’t want Jake to join this list. Can’t you really blame me? I’d rather protect myself by not being afraid everytime my boyfriend goes to work.”

“Let’s imagine the worst were to happen, don’t you think it’d be better to think you spent every second with him? You’d rather live with regrets? You’d rather break your own heart?”

“At least, I know why I’m hurting.”

“Y/N, you have to think about it again.” he sighs. “You have to get out of your head that the worst will happen. You can’t prevent yourself from being happy because of what could happen. You deserve a beautiful life and to be with Jake. I never saw you this happy before and it kills me to see you throw it away because you’re scaring yourself.”

“The problem is I can’t help it,” you start with trembling lips. “I couldn’t stop thinking about it when we first got together then it got better. However, since his accident, it’s been worse. Since your call, I keep imagining what could have happened and what could happen and I’m tired of it, Bradley. I’ll never get rid of it and I hate it but that’s how it is. Believe me, if I could change, I’d do it right now, but I can’t.”

Bradley hugs you as soon as he sees you crying. He holds you against him until your tears stop a few hours later. His heart aches seeing you hurting this much. He knows you’ve always been more affected by your father’s death. Being the youngest, the emptiness you feel about your dad has always been stronger. It got worse with Lucy’s death. That day, Bradley really saw you get broken. He hated every second of this moment of your life. He hates seeing suffering like you currently are. Several times, Bradley tried to help you, he advised you to go see a professional but you’ve always refused. Until now, he had hoped your fears would ease with time, yet, your relationship with Jake just proved him it got worse and he doesn’t know what to do. He’s completely distraught whilst he keeps holding you against him, hoping to give you some kind of comfort.

Two months have passed since your break up. You take it day by day to heal your broken heart. Bradley tries to stay with you as much as he can while Jake isn’t surrounded by anyone. He prefers to wear a mask and pretend your negative answer isn’t hurting him. Nevertheless, the second he’s home alone, his mask falls and he allows himself to feel all his pain. Jake, who has always done it, manages to fool everyone with his fake cocky smile. Almost everyone. Coyote sees right through him.

That night is no exception. Sitting at the counter in the Hard Deck, Jake is drinking his third alcoholic drink. Jake has isolated himself from the rest of the Dagger Squad, saying he’s tired and wanted to be alone. Though, Javy doesn’t let him be in the doldrums. He sits on the stool next to Jake and orders a beer from Penny. Coyote gives him some minutes of peace before speaking.

“Wanna talk about it?”

Coyote doesn’t even need to specify for Jake to understand. Your relationship has been a taboo subject for two months.

“Not really.” Jake says, taking a sip.

“You should.” he replies while Penny hands him his beer. “Do you at least know why she made this decision?”

Jake didn’t tell anyone the reason for your fallout. He feels humiliated enough by your harsh refusal to his proposal, he wants to bury the end of your relationship and never talk about it again. Though Javy is right, Jake knows he has to open up.

“Rooster talked to her. Turns out she doesn’t want to marry me because she’s scared I might die on-duty.”

“Did your accident scare her that much?” Javy questions, taken aback.

“It was the final straw but she’s always been scared apparently. I mean, I suspected it, you know, seeing what we do for a living, it makes sense. She also lost her dad and her best friend in similar circumstances. The problem is I didn’t know those deaths affected her that much. Anyway, there is nothing else to say.”

Coyote doesn't say anything for a moment, taking in the information and the way might have felt when he learned them.

“Well, she would have made such a lovely bride. What a shame she’s fucked in the head.” he says, ignoring what else to say.

“She suffered and she doesn’t want to go through this pain again, we can’t blame her. I’m not saying she should stay lost in her fear, it’s not healthy though, I get why she does.” Jake states before taking a deep breath and finishing his drink in one go. “I just wish she would trust our love more than her fears.”

Once he comes home, Jake sits down on his couch, sighing loudly. He runs a hand on his face, emotionally drained. As soon as his hand lands on his thigh, his eyes find a picture hung beside his TV that he didn’t have the strength to remove. It’s a photo he took at the beginning of your relationship, more precisely the day you told each other ‘I love you’ for the first time.

You had spent the day at the beach during summer. The sun was setting down whilst you were laughing at a stupid sentence Jake had said. He had stopped laughing before you, admiring you while you tried to calm your laughter. Then, Jake had looked deeply in your eyes and he had said those three words so simple and yet, so powerful. You had replied the following second with a big smile on your face. Before leaving the beach, Jake had asked to immortalise this moment. Thinking back on it, it was cliché and cheesy but Jake didn’t care. For you, he would have done the most cliché gestures if it could make you break a smile.

Jake keeps staring at the picture, your relationship running in his head. Without noticing it, he tears up before the tears stream down his face. It’s the third time he cries since your break up. The first time, it was the night of the proposal after he went home and the second time, when Bradley explained to him the reason behind your ‘no’.

Jake has never been good with his emotions. Between his education and his work in the army, he’s never learned to put words on his pain and to accept being vulnerable. With you, he had succeeded to understand himself better and to open up. It was still complicated despite two years together but he had improved. Now, he is back to square one. He’s back to his shell, running away from his emotions. Though, it doesn’t mean his mind isn’t haunted by 'what if's. What if he never had this accident? What if he had seen right through your fears sooner? What if he had managed to reassure you? What if he had managed to convince you to get the help you need? What if everything was different?

As for you, the questions are similar. Every night, you torture your own mind before crying yourself to sleep whilst looking at the spot where there once was the picture of your first ‘I love you’ before you ripped it off from your bedroom wall just like you ripped off both of your hearts from your chest.

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mirisss · 3 months

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Chapter 10

Stray Kids OT8 x hybrid! afab! reader

Warnings: Crying, mentions of some members acting violent (in response to (Y/n)’s past), mentions of scars, some anxiety, eating/food, sleep problems, I think that’s it, let me know if I’ve missed anything.

Wordcount ≈ 2.2k

Hey everyone! I hope you enjoy this chapter! I can’t believe I’ve been working on this series for two years, it’s crazy, I didn’t think it would take this long but I am so happy to see so many people enjoying my story. I just want to say thank you for all the support, but don’t worry, this is not the end of the story, we still have a long way to go!

Please reblog!

Taglist: @ayoo-bangtan, @lose-lose07, @kingcarrot-thecarrotking, @starjane312, @reighlee-greaves, @hi-39024, @queenmea604, @septicrebel, @justayoungandwisefangirl, @imasimplol, @k-p0p-4ever, @detectivedoodle, @hehe-24-hehe, @jinnie-ret, @0325tiny, @borahae-reads, @shycreationdreamland, @kiaralynn3838, @blondechannie, @theydy-madamonsieur, @boi-bi-ahaha, @riri321, @3rachasninja, @kkamismom12, Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist!

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9,

(Y/n) closed her eyes, fully trusting Jeongin, just as she would with any of the eight boys she now called her home. Jeonging couldn’t help but smile as he too closed his eyes.

(Y/n)’s POV

I closed my eyes and leaned in, I wasn’t too sure what to do, but that didn’t matter. I knew I wanted this and I felt safe. Soon I felt Jeongin’s soft lips, gently press against mine. An electric feeling spread through my body. It washed away any anxiety that I felt, leaving me with only curiosity and love. Jeongin gently ran a hand through my hair as he put just a little more pressure into the kiss, I tried responding by leaning my head a little to the side, something I had seen in a movie. I felt Jeongin smiling into the kiss, it made me relax even more. His scent was intense yet calming, so much contact with his warm skin, the feeling of his hand gently running through my hair, soothing me. I never wanted this moment to end. All too soon, he broke the kiss by leaning back. A bright smile and sparkling eyes greeted my gaze as I opened my eyes.

“Wow, your lips are so soft,” He whispered, but I heard him loud as day. “It was nice,” I whispered back. He kissed me on my forehead before he stood up, giving me a hand to help me stand as well. “You should get in the water before it gets cold, I’ll head out to the others, and we’ll see each other soon again, okay?” “Yeah, that sounds okay,” “Just call for me or anyone if you need us,” “Thank you,” Jeongin left me alone as I undressed and got into the warm water. The bath salt scent was strong, it felt like being embraced by the ocean and a summer breeze. I relaxed in the water, breathing calmly as I felt better after sharing some of my past with Hyunjin. I knew he was telling the others about what I told him, it weirdly felt nice to know that I didn’t have to share it on my own, telling it once was hard enough.

Third Person POV

Once Jeongin came back to the living room, Hyunjin began telling him, Minho, and Felix about (Y/n)’s past, or the part she had shared with him. Felix began crying at the thought of the sweet bunny being put through such trauma. Minho felt angry, he wanted to find the people who hurt (Y/n) and make sure they couldn’t do it again, once he calmed down a little, he felt almost a little happy, happy that he found her and took her home. Here she would be able to live happily, in a home filled with love. With their family. Jeongin understood why (Y/n) had asked him to stay, not wanting to be alone, he wanted to run back to the bathroom and hold her, telling her she would never be alone again.

“We’re going to have to tell the others too, do you think you’re up for it, Jinnie?” Minho asked, concerned that it would be too much for the younger. “I think I can do it as long as I’m not alone,” “We’ll be here with you, someone will have to hold back Chan-hyung and Binnie, they’re going to go berserk when they find out,” Minho said, half-joking as an attempt to make Felix laugh instead of cry, though he knew that it was true. Bang Chan and Changbin would not take this well, if Minho thought he felt angry it wasn’t anything compared to those two.

“Hey, you okay, Lixie?” Hyunjin asked as he moved closer to the crying boy. “Yeah, I just hate thinking of our sweet bunny being in so much pain and being alone. I hate feeling lonely, it’s the worst feeling,” “She’s not alone anymore, she has us. You have us, we have each other. We have all felt lonely but we’re together now so we don’t have to be alone anymore,” Jeongin said, it resembled his talk with (Y/n). Stray Kids was quite a fitting name, all of them having been astray, lonely, and isolated, but now they have one another and together they chase away the hurt and pain of their past. In each other they found a family, they found love, and most of all, they found a home.

(Y/n) emerged from the bathroom a little while later, Felix and Hyunjin were gaming, Minho was in the kitchen preparing some food, and Jeongin sat on the couch, scrolling through instagram. “Hey,” the hybrid said lowly, Jeongin looked up with a smile. “Hey, feel better now?” “A little, the bath salt was nice,” “What do you want to do now?” “I think I’ll go help Minho out, and get a snack,” Jeongin just smiled and gave her a thumbs up. His eyes scrunched together, making him look so cute, and (Y/n) couldn’t help but smile too. (Y/n) walked over to the kitchen, hearing Minho curse lowly just before she walked in. Finding him glaring angrily at a pot on the stove. “Hey,” (Y/n) had during her time with the boys heard them joking about Minho being scary but she didn’t see it, to her he was someone with a soul so kind that it could not know any hate. He was gentle and sweet, (Y/n) was never cautious around him, perhaps it was because he was the one who found her, the first human who ever cared about her.

“Oh, hey (Y/n), are you hungry?” “A little, but I also want to help you, with whatever you’re doing,” “Can you help me glare at the pot for ruining the food I was making?” The two chuckled at how Minho blamed an inanimate object for messing up the recipe and not himself. Minho reveled in how comfortable the hybrid was around him, his heart feeling just a little lighter to see her smiling and cheerful after everything. “What did the pot do?” “It burnt the food, so I have to start over,” “I’ll help you,” “Okay, well, just stir this and I’ll make a sandwich for you, okay?” “Yes!” And so the two made some food, this time without burning it. Shortly after they finished with the food, the other guys came home. Happy to find the table set for dinner as they were all starving. The nine of them sat down and ate, Chan and the others telling everyone about the information they received during the meeting and whatnot.

After dinner, (Y/n) and Felix volunteered to take care of the dishes, so that Hyunjin could tell the others about his and (Y/n)’s conversation. Minho and Jeongin sat down beside the tall dancer, ready to help him explain anything in case he found it too hard to say for a third time. Minho had been correct in thinking that Chan and Changbin would be angry, but he had never thought that Seungmin and Han would react just as strongly in anger toward the hybrid’s past. “Do we have their names? Or anything? We could contact the authorities if we did, even if it is in the past, what they have done isn’t allowed,” Chan said, looking at Hyunjin, hopeful that they had more information on these people. Hyunjin shook his head, “She didn’t tell me any names so if she knows, she didn’t share them with me,” Changbin clenched his jaw and his hands, anger flowing through his body, he took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. “She seemed quite cheerful now though,” “Yeah, she took a bath and just spent some time with us, grounding herself in the safety of our home,” Jeongin answered.

“Do you think we should buy some scar treatment lotions? Or something to treat her scars, they may be old but that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t at least try to treat them,” Seungmin said, imagining how uncomfortable it must be for her, he also wondered if maybe (Y/n) was ashamed of her scars. “I’m not sure, we’ll have to look into it and maybe bring her to the vet for a check-up, just to see what the vet will say,” Chan answered. “Honestly, I don’t know if she’s ready to see a vet or a doctor, you see how she is around other people, to have someone come so close and touch her, I’m not sure it’s a good idea, not yet,” Minho said, the others agreed with him after hearing his argument.

“There’s one more thing, or actually two, that happened earlier,” Hyunjin said, everyone directed their attention to him once more, worried about what he would say. “(Y/n) had a panic attack in the elevator, which caused this whole ordeal, and when we got out of the elevator she kind of collapsed on the floor, and when I tried to calm her down, she kind of kissed me,” Everyone except Jeongin was surprised when Hyunjin told them about the kiss, after all, (Y/n) had told him so he already knew. “What? She kissed you, ahh, I’m so jealous,” Han said loudly, whining at the thought. “She kissed me too, or well, rather she asked me to kiss her before she took her bath,” Jeongin said.

Just then, (Y/n) and Felix came back out from the kitchen, just in time for Felix to hear Jeongin tell the others about their kiss. (Y/n) shyly looked at Felix as he looked down at the bunny in surprise, he gave her a smile before he continued walking. “I’m sorry,” “Why are you apologizing, (Y/n)?” Han questioned. “Because I kissed them, and not all of you,” “Hey, no pressure. You need to take everything at your own pace, we can wait. There is no reason to rush into something,” Seungmin answered, his honey-sweet voice made a warm sensation spread through (Y/n)’s body. “Are you sure?” “Of course, we are, bunny,” Chan said, standing up and walking over to her, he opened his arms, inviting her into a hug, and (Y/n) gladly accepted it.

For the remainder of the night, everyone did some different things, some were gaming, others like Hyunjin and (Y/n) were painting, some had gone to bed, and some (*cough* 3racha *cough*) were still working. Soon it was time for everyone to try and get some sleep. (Y/n) got ready and changed into cozy pajamas, then she followed Changbin to his room as she would spend the night there. She got into her bed, enjoying the soft feeling of it. Changbin whispered good night as he lay down in his own bed.

(Y/n) tossed and turned in her bed as the comfort escaped her all too soon. Her body was on full alert, not allowing her to fall asleep. She tried to think of how soft her pajamas were, or how warm the blanket was, yet it didn’t work. (Y/n) then tried to think of the boys, how warm they are, how nice and kind they have been to her. How much she loves them and how much they love her, but not even this could help her relax. After 2 hours of frustration, she sat up, contemplating going to the kitchen and getting a snack. The hybrid was a bit startled to find Changbin sitting up only a second after her, her hybrid senses allowing her to see even in the dark, (Y/n) could clearly see his eyes being open, he was awake.

“Can’t sleep?” He asked in a raspy voice, indicating that he had woken up from his sleep. “Mm,” Was all (Y/n) could answer. “Come here,” The rapper said as he lifted the covers on his bed, inviting her into his bed. While the thought scared her a little, she couldn’t decline the invite as the idea of falling asleep in his safe embrace just seemed too good. (Y/n) stood up and walked over to the bed, lying down beside (Y/n). Changbin gently put his arms around her, guiding her to rest her head on his chest, (Y/n) inhaled his scent, calming her body. (Y/n) focused on the steady beats of his heart and his calm breathing. Changbin fell back asleep almost instantly, (Y/n) stayed awake for a couple of minutes but eventually, thanks to the warmth and the safety of his strong embrace, the dream world welcomed her as she fell into a deep slumber.

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