#like every breakup song ever could be about them I swear

[01zfan]

bad idea, right? | s.es

ex!bf!eunseok x fem!reader | 6.4k words

this is a mature work. minors do not interact

inspired by the song bad idea, right by olivia rodrigo. not proofread.

contains: drinking (reader is tipsy at most), slightly toxic relationship, randomly put in other idols for some good ole world building, cunnilingus (fem. receiving), missionary, a lil crying.

you look at the text on your phone, contemplating all the decisions that have led you to this moment.

im outside.

it started out as a normal night. you went out with your two friends to a local dive bar you recently started to frequent. but just before the last call your friend showed a text of a party near you that was “lit”. you had planned to leave this with your friends at beginning of the night. your plans quickly changed after your third shot at the party. from that moment on you were texting your ex, eunseok. 

the worst part is that you had been so good about no contact. the night of the breakup you laid in your bed with tear stains on your pillow and cheeks. you had told him that you guys would remain friends but you realized that you would never be able to move on unless you cut him from your life completely. so you blocked him on every social media platform and then deleted and blocked his number as well. the solution was to not even give yourself the option to reach out to him and not let him even try to speak a word to you. you would see him occasionally due to overlapping friend groups but you were so good at pretending he wasn’t there. unfortunately, tonight was the night you folded.

the music at the house party wasn’t overbearing, but the alcohol was making you irritable.

“can they turn the music down?” you yelled into yunjin’s ear.

“i can’t hear you!” yunjin yelled back.

“can i have another shot?” you yelled at giselle this time, who had a vice grip on a bottle of vodka. when giselle looked at you with confusion you pointed at the bottle of vodka then pointed at your red solo cup.

“i think you’ve had enough to drink.” giselle laughs. you look to yunjin for support but she nods in agreement with giselle. ever since the breakup, you often found yourself in the position of being their de facto daughter. the pair had always doted on you, but you always credited that to them being two years your senior. when eunseok broke your heart (or you broke his) this increased their maternal instinct to protect you. 

“i’m literally going through a breakup and you wont give me a shot?” you put on your best betrayal act to efforts to bum alcohol off your responsible friends. both yunjin and giselle laugh.

“you and eunseok broke up months ago” giselle says.

“you tend to bring him up only when you’re drunk so i’m actually starting to think the alcohol has a reverse effect.” yunjin says. giselle’s eyes light up at the realization.

“wait that’s actually true! you never talk about him any other time.” giselle agreed.

you quickly realize this conversation isn’t going in your favor. so you pull out all the stops and become the most dramatic version of yourself. you point the red solo cup towards giselle, shaking like a leaf. you paint your face with a look of dread, like you are dying of dehydration.

“need…..alcohol” you say in a fake raspy voice. giselle playfully narrows her eyes.

“okay but this is the last shot. for all of us.” giselle is pouring a little bit into all of your cups. you three clink the plastic cups together and swiftly take it.

almost immediately after that shot your mind started tormenting you with flashbacks. eunseok having your legs spread while he felt you up everywhere. being bent over the kitchen counter completely at his mercy. feeling his big hand press on the small of your back. how he used to have you like a folding chair taking it all. you tried hard to push down the thoughts but you swear you could hear him over your shoulder calling you a good girl before you sat down on a barstool. giselle and yunjin look at you.

“everything alright, buddy?” yunjin says slowly, already knowing what you’re gonna say.

“i’m dizzy.” you confess. and it was the absolute truth. flashbacks of being with eunseok made you realize that you were starved in every sense of the word, nearly knocking you off balance. you swayed a little bit and giselle grabbed your arm.

“okay i think it’s time to call it a night!” giselle giggled as she held on to you, also a bit tipsy.

giselle and yunjin left with you in tow. walking in front of you, leading you through the crowd. you made sure that they couldn’t see you pull out your phone. your tipsy fingers worked quickly texting a number you knew you shouldn’t have memorized.

heyyy

once outside the cold air sobered you up enough to the point that you made a plan. the first step of the plan was to be sent home in an car alone.

“i don’t want you guys to stop having fun because of me.” you say, turning towards giselle and yunjin.

“the party was getting boring anyways. i just want to go home and watch some tv at this point” giselle says looking at her phone. you assumed she was looking at prices to get home. “are you cool with spending the night at our place?”

before you could answer you felt your phone vibrate. someone was calling you.

you unfortunately already knew where you were going to be tonight. you just couldn’t let your friends find out.

“i want to go home honestly. in my own bed.” you said stretching your arms out and yawn.

“are you sure that’s even safe? you drank alot tonight.” yunjin says.

“yuqi is already up around this time, if i need help she will be there for me. besides the amount of alcohol i drank was like super spread out over the night.” 

yunjin and giselle look to one another. time to pull out the trump card.

“i feel like ever since me and eunseok broke up you guys treat me like i’m a baby. i’m an adult i can make my own decisions.”

after saying that, you can see the faces of yunjin and giselle change. you know that they also want to be alone without you tagging along, sticking to their side like a child.

“it’s only because you’re drunk, that’s why.” yunjin says.

“the cold air is sobering me up. and i’m going to bed immediately once i lay down.” 

yunjin and giselle debate on what to say. before they can come to an agreement, a car comes and stops on the curb. it waits in front of the house.

your phone has since stopped ringing, instead you get a small vibration indicating a text message. you quickly take a glance at your phone to see what it says.

black rolls royce phantom license plate cvent1

call me when you get in.

you look towards the car parked on the curb. you’re certain that it’s the car eunseok sent you based on the description. 

“my ride is here” you say meekly, knowing what reaction you are going to get. yunjin and giselle look at you confused and flustered.

“when did you call a ride?” giselle asks.

“why didn’t you tell us?” yunjin sounds angry.

“yuqi called it for me, she said she owes me from last time we went out drinking.” you say, rubbing the back of your head.

you are impressed at how quickly you came up with the lie, since you are quite flustered as well. how did he know where you were? where was this car going to take you? you had so many questions but you had to seem confident that you were going home, or else they were going to tag along.

“i told you i’m fine, yuqi is going to be waiting for me outside and everything.” you assure your friends.

“okay, fine.” yunjin gives up trying to debate with you.

“text us when you get home.” giselle points at you, trying to be as authoritative as possible.

“i will. i love you guys.” you go over to yunjin and giselle to give them hugs.

“love you too bae.” yunjin says giving you a hug.

giselle gives you a hug before opening the car door for you. you make sure the door is closed before the driver says “ride for eunseok?” you nod your head and roll down the window.

“i’ll text you guys when i get home!” you shout to your friends as the car drives off.

“make sure you drink water!” yunjin yells as you drive off.

you roll up the window and click on the notification of the missed call. you expect it to keep ringing, to leave you hanging the way you left him hanging. 

it can’t even get through the first ring.

“hey. are you in the car?”

you can’t say anything back. it has been so long since you’ve heard his voice. since it’s been directed at you. your nails instinctively dig into your thigh, trying to use the pain to bring you back on this plane of existence.

“hey.”

silence. you forgot to answer his question

“yes i’m in the car.”

“alright,” eunseok says and pauses for a moment. “it’s taking you home.”

“what? i thought it was bringing me to your place?” you say a little louder than you thought. the driver looks up at the rear view mirror to look at you.

“do yunjin and giselle know who called that cab for you?” 

god, you hated him so much. the smile you could hear in his voice. the way he already knew you were lying to them.

“they think yuqi called it.”

“they think yuqi sent you a rolls royce?”

“they don’t know cars, eunseok.”

you can hear a sigh on the other end of the line. you wonder what he’s wearing. if he’s wearing pants that hugged his legs in all the right places. or that navy hoodie that was a little too big, showing off the area surrounding his neck. you think about sweatpants drifting a little too low, that would give you the slightest peak at his body

“what are you thinking about?” 

“what are you wearing?” you try to whisper so the poor driver isn’t subjected to your suggestive thoughts you say out loud.

eunseok laughs on the other end of the line.

“how much have you had to drink?”

“i had a few but over the course of the night. i’m not plastered.”

another long bout of silence. you start thinking about yunjin and giselle’s disappointed faces when your lies eventually catch up to you. they aren’t directly friends with yuqi, but all it takes is one conversation to reveal the truth. or they could be worried that you got into a car you thought was for you.

“was it a bad idea to call you?” you say. you play with the hem of your dress.

more silence.

“well, can’t two people reconnect?”

you try to not let your smile change your tone. you grab the end of your dress, wrinkling the fabric.

“can you make this car go towards your place?”

“it already is.”

“you’re such an ass.” you groan into the phone. he was too good at playing you. 

“text me when you get here. i’ll wait for you in the lobby.”

after the driver leaves you in front of the building you sent the text. you go to the door and try to punch in the code from muscle memory but nothing happens. instead you opt to sit on the steps, trying to calculate when would be the appropriate time to text your friends you made it home safe. 

your thoughts are interrupted by the front door of the building opening. you look behind you and see eunseok staring back at you. you quickly stand up.

you two stand like that for a moment, staring like deers caught in the headlights. eunseok is the first to compose himself.

“pretty dress.” he says after looking you up and down. he walks back into the building holding the door open for you.

the two of you are now in the lobby, trying not to make too much noise. you walk down the narrow hallways of the lobby, muscle memory taking you towards the elevator.

“it’s out of service, princess.” eunseok used your old nickname and you stopped dead in your tracks. you turn around nonchalantly but just hearing that nickname has you ready to jump him in the small hallway.

“you live like five floors up.” you groan looking up the winding staircase. you make a loud clack with each step in your boots, your feet will be sore tomorrow.

eunseok lets out a breath and walks down the steps and bends down. “hop on.” is all he says.

now he’s giving you a piggyback ride up the countless flights of stairs. you try not to focus on how he’s palming your thigh, or how you can feel his toned body through his hoodie. eunseok carries you like you’re nothing and that feeling returns when you think about how he used manhandle you and toss you around like a doll. you let out a deep breath, inhaling his smell that you find so intoxicating.

he finishes going up another flight when he pulls you a little closer to his body. you pull him in a little tighter with your arms.

“how was the party?” he tries to sound nonchalant, looking over his shoulder at you to ask the question.

“how’d you know i was at the party?” you ask. although you already know. user36384847383 on instagram that always looked at your stories had to belong to somebody.

“you always do something after the bar.” eunseok looks away, realizing he might’ve gotten caught.

“i didn’t start going to the bar until after we broke up.” you say, smiling.

“we are here!” eunseok says before loudly letting you go. you find your balance as you walk down the hallway towards his door. with his hand on the small of your back, he makes sure you are balanced. his hand is almost like a ghost, not daring to push you towards his apartment in any way. despite this, it still feels like you’re heading towards your doom. months of no contact down the drain. all the hard work trying to forget everything about him has been reversed. just as you think about turning back, his hand slowly drifts down to rest on your ass. 

you’re in front of his door now, and he looks at you while turning the doorknob. you look at him, look at his lips and the flashbacks hit you again.

fuck it, it’s fine. you use your hand to push open the door and the two of you walk in.

you kick off your shoes and close the door behind you. eunseok kicks off his sandals and here you two are, standing in his entry way. last time you were here you had the last of your things in a backpack holding back tears. now here you are. tipsy and horny and confused and…

“there’s no pressure here. i know no contact was important to you. you can sleep on the bed and i can take the couch.” eunseok leans against the wall opposite of the door. you hear what he’s saying clearly, but when you see the way he’s looking at you, you can’t hear your thoughts.

you walk over to him and you grab his hand. eunseok looks at you, waiting for your next move. you take his hand and put it on your waist. instantly his hand finds purchase in the dip, squeezing like he’s trying to check if you’re real.

you look up to him and kiss his lips. he brings you in closer. you lean even closer to him. eunseok puts his hands underneath your thighs and you jump. he catches and holds you easily, deepening the kiss. 

“the couch?” you ask, pulling away. eunseok starts walking you towards his room, passing the small beat up couch.

“anton is coming home in the morning. he’s been sleeping there.” eunseok pushes open his door. you see almost nothing has changed, expect for the missing framed photos of you two.

“i thought you lived alone?” you closed his bedroom door behind you, still in his arms. 

“he needed a place to crash closer to campus while he works on some music thing. and i was a little lonely.” eunseok finishes his sentence with a little laugh. he brings you back in for a kiss and you put your hands on his shoulder and cheek. 

should you say you’re sorry? if he felt lonely because you iced him out for months? should you say aw because he’s is opening up to you? everything is too confusing all you want is to turn off your mind and feel good.

like he always has been able to, eunseok knows what you’re thinking. that’s why he wordlessly sits on the bed, back resting against the headboard. he sets you down on the bed and you face him. you look at his lips before you can lean in for a kiss, eunseok gently turns you around. eunseok pulls you into him, so your back is flush with his chest. he puts his head over your shoulder to whisper into your ear.

“spread your legs.”

you do it without hesitation. spreading your legs you also bend them at the knee. your dress bunches up above your hips as an effect. eunseok’s hands are on your inner thighs instantly, caressing the plush skin. eunseok laughs at how pliant you are. how desperate you must be.

“forgot how soft you are.” eunseok breathes into your ear. “remember how you’d always close them on me, baby? when i’d eat you out?”

how can he be so vulgar with all his clothes still on? you felt your face heating up, recalling the memories too. all you can do is nod and lean further into his chest. you let your head lean back, resting on his shoulder. you are giving him full access to your neck. and use your hands to push your dress further up your body, just below your belly button. you’ll never be able to voice how badly you want him to kiss you everywhere, not without dying from embarrassment.

“that’s how i know you aren’t getting fucked right. so hot and bothered just by this.” he laughs into your hair now. he’s got you and he’s got you good. nothing on god’s earth could pull you away from this feeling. especially when his slender finger pulls the elastic band of your panties, letting it snap back into place on your skin. you whimper, grabbing onto his arm.

“so sensitive.” his middle finger slowly touches your cunt. he ghosts the finger in a repeated motion up and down. “so. so. sensitive.”

“i’m just really, really horny right now.” you try to regain your composure or at least some sense of control. this is abandoned when eunseok smacks your clothed heat. you jump backwards, moving further into him. you can feel his dick against you.

“ouch.” you say in a breathy whimper.

“i’m sorry.” eunseok is all but convincing, smirking into your hair. his middle finger presses a little harder into you. “but i think you deserve a little pain.” eunseok goes back to slightly raising the waistband of your underwear to let it snap on your skin again.

you want to protest but you absolutely can't deny it. you take this as penance. for leaving him alone and ignoring him after the breakup. for blocking him with no explanation. for calling him for dick after getting a little tipsy. so you let your fate rest in eunseok’s hands as you let out a sigh. 

“good girl.” eunseok knows you have completely submitted to him. “i’ll take good care of you.”

eunseok starts slowly sucking at your neck and you crane it desperately to give him more space to work with. your panties have been pushed to the side and his lengthy middle finger still slowly drags itself up and down.

“you’re so wet.” eunseok presses his finger a little deeper into your slit. he repeats this motion and you can hear the wetness, like tapping a puddle.

“has anyone else seen you like this?” 

you shake your head. no one else could ever have you spread out like this. although what you and eunseok had is over, he was your first for everything. slowly the two of you chiseled away at the walls you put up in embarrassment of being in college with no experience. you found out what made eachother insane in bed. you still remember getting over the hump of showing eunseok your bare body for the first time. laying in bed naked and in embrace. eunseok telling you how beautiful you were. no one else in this world will ever have you open like this or could see you in a moment where you’re so weak.

“only you. always…only you.” you couldn’t tell if your string of words were intelligible. all you knew was that eunseok slipped his finger inside of you.

the grip on his arm only tightened as you spread your legs even wider. against your back you could feel him twitch.

“what about your fingers?”

“they don’t feel as good as yours.” you pout. now you're grinding your hips into his hand, begging for more.

“add another one.” you say, out of breath.

“say my name.” eunseok says simply.

“add another one eunseok,” eunseok uses his index finger to tease you. “please.”

eunseok has two fingers in you now. just from this and hearing his breathing in your ear you’re close to losing your mind. eunseok doesn’t even have to move his fingers anymore. you are doing the grinding all on your own. eunseok uses his free hand to pull the low cut of your dress down to expose your boobs. he pinches a nipple in his hand and you gasp out loud.

“god.” eunseok moans into your hair. you whimper in response, focusing on all the work he’s making you do. “you know i almost fucked that girl you always said liked me.”

“yeji?” you try your best to sound disgusted, but all eunseok hears is your breathy moan.

“yup. she talked big game and everything. but she can’t compare to this.” eunseok uses his free hand to squeeze your boob for emphasis.

i just…i would’ve just fucked jaehyun.” 

almost instantly eunseok removes his fingers from you. he withdraws his lips from your neck. you look back at him in confusion.

“jaehyun would never do this for you. go forward. ass in the air.”

you get on your hands and knees in front of eunseoks lap. you move a little forward as you try to hike your ass in the air as high as possible. you haven't had an opportunity to practice your arch in a few months.

“it’s like muscle memory, baby” eunseok is behind you bringing your body up slightly to perfect your form. the power in his grip catches you off guard while you become a ragdoll to him. 

you hear eunseok get off the bed and the zipper of his hoodie. he takes his time taking off his clothes, probably reveling in the fact you are waiting for him in such a compromising position.

eunseok comes back onto the bed and slowly brings your lower half to meet his. you feel his length and you moan purely from the feeling. you move your ass back in efforts to grind back on him but a handful of your ass keeps you in place. eunseok takes your panties off from behind you, helping you lift your knees off the bed to completely remove them. you don't say anything when you see eunseok put your panties in the drawer of his bedside dresser.

“be a good girl for me.” eunseok says it into your bottom half, so you’re unsure if he’s talking to you or your pussy. you comply anyway, staying in the spot he leaves you. 

you can feel eunseok staring at your spread pussy. he doesn’t say a word, nor does he touch you. the lack of interaction the anxiety starts to kick in. what if he says he doesn’t want to do it anymore? what if you think hes looking at you but hes looking at his phone texting someone? it doesn't make any sense why you look back, afraid to see his face of regret. instead you see eunseok’s face with an emotion you can’t pinpoint.

“what’s wrong?” your voice is so quiet. eunseok’s is even quieter.

“can i eat you out, baby?”

eunseok eats your pussy like a man who is starved. he started by licking the entire length of you in one swift motion. this is followed with him tonguing your slit. you try not to think too much about his nose and how it pokes your ass. eunseok pulls away from your slit and his tongue attaches to your clit. he sucks on the sensitive nub while flicking it with his tongue. you try not to rock into his face, chasing a high you haven’t felt in months. after eunseok gets his fingers in the mix you are lifting yourself off the bed. his ministrations only pick up in intensity, trying to bring you to the brink as fast as possible. 

slowly his face pulls away from your clit after straining his neck to reach it. the angle was originally pretty awkward, with eunseok on his knees spreading your cheeks to eat you out. you were under the impression that him pulling away meant you’d be getting his dick next. instead, eunseok gets on his back and pushes himself so slot in between your legs. you see his face, so serene and protected. his eyes are so brown and his lips are so plump and his hair is so mused. nothing can replace eunseok in your mind. you are too preoccupied with your feelings to stop yourself from being brought down to his face with his strength.

you don’t want to accidentally put all your weight on his face and break his neck. you try pulling yourself up, but his hands on your thighs hold you in place. he looks up at you with wide eyes, like an animal whose food is being taken away. he eats at you with a hunger you’ve never seen. before you know it all your reservations are gone and you’re riding his face.

“eunseok…it feels so goodddd.” you lean back, hands grabbing his thighs to steady yourself. “i can’t believe you’re doing this.”

“i can’t believe you’re letting me. i want to die with you on my face.” eunseok uses his hands on your thighs to bring you even closer to his face. he fucks you with his tongue, lapping up everything your body gives him.

you can feel your orgasm coming. your skin starts to feel like it’s on fire with the white and fuzzy feeling coming to you. you look down at eunseok, who is already locked into your face. he’s checking your emotions and reading you like a book. your moans are the gospel or the angel that comes to sit on his shoulder and whisper in his ear. eunseok smiles into your pussy, knowing you’re close. you want to so badly gain control of the situation, to remind him that he let you in after ghosting him. that he’s the one who got you here. so you look down at him, trying to give him the exact same knowing smirk he’s been throwing at you all night.

“you would do anything for me wouldn’t you?” you give a wicked smile as you slow your pace to grind on his tongue. “just for a taste.”

eunseok can’t speak with a mouthful of you. he opts instead to nod his head vigorously and increase the speed of his tongue.

“do those bitches that you text know what you’re doing? still just a fuck toy for your ex?”

eunseok shakes his head. he murmurs something into your clit. you ignore him again. that’s something you seem to be good at.

“i’m close eunseok. baby i’m so close.” you pick up your speed again, closing your thighs around his head. eunseok keeps you in place.

right before you reach your peak you start tapping his hands that are holding your thighs in place. 

“eunseok i wanna come with you inside.”

eunseok looks up at you and holds eye contact. you look down at him, so determined to get you to finish. before you can come to your senses and repress your orgasm, it hits you like a freight train. it makes you throw your head back and let out a cry and you ride out your high on eunseok’s face. he takes it all in stride, tongue still prodding at your entrance.

once you come down, you realize that you definitely suffocated eunseok to death. you raise yourself off of him, still suffering from aftershocks of that orgasm. when you pull yourself off, you see that eunseok has the biggest stupid grin on his face.

“hey, are you still alive?” you laugh poking his face.

“was it good?” eunseok opens his eyes. 

“it was.” you sit on the edge of eunseok’s bed, feet touching the ground. 

nothing is stopping you from getting up and walking away. you could actually call an uber to your apartment and then you could text yunjin and giselle without feeling so guilty. you almost get the gumption to do it but then you feel eunseok move up from his spot on the bed to sit beside you.

“was it too much? you didn’t use our safe word so i thought it was okay.” eunseok uses a soft hand to make you look at him. he looks worried. you don't doubt that he can feel all your conflicting emotions, sleeping with your ex. you wonder if he feels the same way.

“it was perfect, really. i needed that.” you reassure him, putting your hand over his.

“then what’s wrong?” eunseok looks in your eyes then at your lips. you look at his.

“i think i need more.” you whisper truthfully.

eunseok uses his hand to bring you closer, kissing you. he pulls away after his tongue darts out to lick your lips.

“more?” eunseok smiles. of course he’s going to make this a living hell for you. but you humor him, because that feeling is building up all over your body again.

“more.” you answer. 

eunseok goes to your neck, kissing and sucking at the skin. he pulls away before he can leave a mark.

“more.” you don’t move your neck, hoping he gets the point.

“you want me to leave a mark? what will yunjin and giselle say? or all your other boyfriends?” voice is dripping with fake concern.

“i don’t care.” you do care, but self sabotage has already gotten you this far. you are a go big or go home type of girl.

“okay princess.” and eunseok is at your neck, sucking and biting with an energy you’ve never seen from him. 

you put your hand over his dick. he’s still wearing his boxers, so you can see a wet spot. now it’s your turn to tease him. 

“i never took you for the type to cum in your boxers, babe.” you give eunseok’s dick a squeeze. “you must be really pent up, huh?”

eunseok laughs and leans back on the bed, propping himself up on his hands.

“you gonna help me out?” 

you nod. eunseok grabs your hand and leads you off the bed to stand in front of him. he reaches up to bring the zipper on your back as low as it’ll go. he sits back on the bed, back in his same position.

“take your dress off for me.” 

you slowly take off one sleeve. you work your way to the other. you let it slowly hang off the upper half of your body as you take off your bra. you drop your bra to the floor. you can hear eunseok behind you moving, probably freeing himself of his boxers. you think about how eunseok has always liked your ass, so you make a show of taking off the lower half of your dress. when that drops to the floor, you turn around facing him.

eunseok has his dick in his hand, slowly stroking himself. you forgot how mesmerizing he looked like this. eunseok was so good at keeping his composure it always felt like a treat seeing him act on his own wants. right now, he wanted you. eunseok got up from the bed and came up to you. you had to look up to see his face. the way he towered over you made you feel something you weren’t ready to come to terms with yet.

eunseok brought you into a deep kiss, as you two were in an embrace, he was slowly moving you further and further back until you hit the bed. he brought an arm behind you and led you down. when your back was on the bed, he broke the kiss.

“i still have condoms.” eunseok said looking in your eyes. he played with your hair, resting like a crown on the bed. you really were his princess

“i haven’t been with anyone,” you admit shyly “i’m still on the pill too.”

“i haven’t been with anyone either.” you had already known, but it was reassuring to hear it from him.

“can we do it without a condom?” you ask. eunseok kisses your forehead a little too sweetly.

“of course princess.”

eunseok brings you closer with a quick pull of your thighs. the feeling of excitement and nerves shoots up your spine. it really has been so long. eunseok slapping your heat with his dick brings you back to the present.

eunseok lines himself up at your entrance, and leans over both arms at your side. you grap one of his arms for stability and comfort. you just needed to be touching him.

“let me know if it hurts too much. you remember the word?”

“i remember.”

“okay.” eunseok kisses your forehead. he kisses it again and you can feel slight pressure. he starts attacking your face with kisses everywhere as he sinks deeper and deeper in. he ends with a kiss on your cheek before he bottoms out. you both moan in unison, so much time has been lost between you two. you already feel tears welling in your eyes. before eunseok can look you in the eyes, you pull his head into the crook of your neck and hold it there. without saying anything, you move your hips back and forth.

“feels good?” eunseok huffs into your shoulder. he tries to sound cocky, but you know it’s getting to him too. you can’t stop yourself from clenching around him. how the pressure feels so good and you feel so full.

“please keep going.” you whimper. 

“okay princess.” eunseok kisses your neck and he pulls back his hips to thrust back in. you settle into the pace eunseok has set. slow and deliberate, trying to hit all the spots you thought he would’ve forgotten by now. a soft hand grips your breast and you arch into his touch.

“it’s still sensitive eunseok.” you haven’t gone for a second round since you and eunseok were together, getting yourself to be relaxed while climbing towards your second climax was hard.

“i know baby i know. you don’t want me to stop though right?” eunseok took your earlobe into your mouth. his pace was getting faster, you had to reach for the wall behind you to steady yourself.

“no. please don’t stop.” you used your other arm to pull him closer. you weren’t sure if you were about to cry due to the overstimulation or the fact that you missed the man on top of you. his teasing nature, his attentiveness. how warm he was always. it was hard to remember why you ended things in the first place, especially with him moaning in your ear.

“feels so good.” eunseok kissed your cheek. he brought his arm underneath your body, bringing you into an embrace while still fucking into you.

“i miss this. i miss you.” he admitted into your shoulder. 

“i miss you too, eunseok.” you couldn’t stop the tears.

“i want you back more than anything, you know that right?” eunseok’s pace was increasing, he was close. 

“i know. i like it…” you try hard to piece your thoughts together, but your mind is becoming filled with eunseok.

“like what? me watching everything you post like some fucking stalker.”

“shows me—shows that you care.”

“can i look at you baby?” eunseok asks, the most desperate you’ve heard him all night.

you pull his head from the crook of your neck and let his forehead rest on yours. for a moment worry crosses his face as he sees your tears. he uses his thumb to wipe an eye clean. the silent acknowledgement has you wrapping your legs around his waist to bring him closer. eunseok grabs one of your legs and helps you put it over his shoulder. this new angle has you digging your nails into his skin.

“god i missed this pussy,” eunseok smiles down at you, wiping away tears from your other eye. “she’s always been mine hasn’t she?”

“yes. she wants you to come inside.” your brain fog is letting your lewd requests come out quick and jumbled.

“of course princess.” eunseok comes back down to you, bringing desperate lips to you. you can hear when he cums inside, letting out a line of profanities with your name mixed in. you can feel when he cums inside, dick pulsing. you cum after he brings a hand to your clit, rubbing revolutions on the bundle of nerves. you grip onto his arm, biting your lip to hold back a love confession.

you two ride out your highs together. eunseok’s hand comes to a slow top and he slowly pulls out of you. you both whine at the loss of warmth, but he lays next to you and pulls you into his chest. you want to protest, that it’s a bad idea for you to spend the night at his place. 

instead you opt to fall asleep when he gives you his hoodie to sleep in, head rests on yours, and he begins to rub gentle shapes into your thighs. this was arguably a bad idea, perhaps the worst one you’ve ever had. tomorrow you will deal with it, but the rest of the night belonged to the two of you.

#01zfan: eunseok #eunseok smut #riize smut

[a-world-with0ut-dr34ms]

A Table of Contents to all my CoD Men x Reader Fics

My shit was getting disorganized as fuck, so I collected everything I've typed on here and put it into a single post, just to make it easier to find my stuff if you ever choose to. User Accessibility matters!

Note - All of this is 18+ and Mature, but not all of it is Smut

SFW/Fluff // Masterlist

The masterlist to all of the SFW/Fluff One-Shots for Ghost x Reader.

No Good Men Left To Spare // Masterlist

No pair of people hated each other more than you and Ghost. To him, you were just another loud-mouthed, obnoxious, and immature little princess needing to be humbled. To you, he was just a boring, broody asshole hellbent on not liking you. Things between you two couldn't be any worse. After pushing one too many of his buttons tonight, you and Ghost going off to have a quick smoke turns into something else entirely.

Make Me Beg

Ghost had been curious to see if you could be the one to make him beg for a change, in which to both his pleasure and dismay, you oblige.

Greedy

Ghost x Dom!Reader x Soap

Ghost and Soap find themselves crushing on the same woman on their team, a friendly bout between two comrades to see who you'll choose, only your answer's not one they'd expected to hear.

The Lights Stay Off

No Summary :(

NSFW, 18+, Shameless Smut, No Plot, Porn w/out Plot, Sex in the dark, Explicit, Graphic Language, Teasing, Touch-Starved Touching, Embarrassing, First Time Together, Fingering, Sloppy Kisses, Somewhat Rough Sex, slightly Intimate, Ghost is a bit of a dom, Reader's a bit snarky

Ghost Fan Edit

My thirst for this man is endless. I've been thirsty since I was 11 and first laid eyes on him in 2009. He just gets finer each year. I don't think I'd have my mask kink without him.

Now you get to see how rhythmically challenged I am. These are fun to make; once I get better at them I'll be unstoppable (｀∀´)Ψ

I Won't Forget

Short Drabble ~ Your last night with Johnny...

Can You Spot Me?

You decide to reward Soap after finishing a set on the bench press.

NSFW 18+, Explicit, Shameless Smut, Porn w/out Plot, Semi-Public Sex, Gym Sex, Teasing, Fluff, Flirting, Cunnilingus, Blow-Jobs, Cowgirl, P in V, Might be a little tame, but still Graphic Description, no Y/N usage

Greedy (same story as above one in Ghost's section)

Speedracer

Gaz x Reader x Soap

It's not every day Gaz gets to drive fast cars. It's also not every day he gets to race hot strangers on the road either.

SFW, Some swearing, Fluff, Flirting, Banter, Racing, Three-Way flirting, Random, Innocent, Some Car Lingo, Soap and Gaz sharing a single brain cell, Eventual smut in part two, scarcely proofread

Been In Love

After a breakup, Price figures a walk along the beach might make for a good distraction. What he did not expect to find was a strange woman standing off to the shore, who looked as though she were about ready to drown herself at sea.

pt. 0 | pt. 1 | pt. 2 | pt. 3

Bloodstained Honesty

Wounded, bloody, and just the two of you. A mission gone wrong leads to a long overdue moment between both you and your Captain, perhaps too late to count for anything. Not if either of you two can help it at least.

pt. 1 | pt. 2 | pt. 3

Sex Tape ~ Kinktober Prompt

No summary (._. )

NSFW (18+), Shameless Smut, Explicit Detail, Groping, Fingering, Nipple-Play, Oral (Female Receiving), AFAB!Reader Long-Distance, Sex Tape, Scarcely Proofread, Kinktober

Some Days

Drabble ~ Price has a tendency to wake up most mornings before you...

SFW, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, Innocent, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Mornings, Wife Reader, Soft Price, Price is a little mopey, scarcely proofread

Let Me Play You A Song

During a get-together, you and the Captain decide to sneak off for a spell. The intentions were mostly pure. At the start...

Captain Price Fan Edit

My first time making a video like this EVER (ʃᵕ̩̩ ᵕ̩̩). It came out more like a trailer than an edit, but I had so much fun making this. I really hope you like it! *totally not nervous* (　◜◡‾)

Captain Price Fan Edit 2

Control Masterlist

Slow Burn, Love Triangle, Angst, Romance, Drama

You’ve been with Shadow Company long enough to know working alongside 141 on their search for the stolen American missiles wouldn’t be an ordinary assignment. And most importantly, you knew Graves. Shadow Company keeps its allies close, and its enemies closer. When you’re given a job, it gets done without conflict. Without loose ends.

Your true mission is clear to you -- keep an eye on 141 and keep them comfortable. Anything it takes to alleviate suspicion of Shadow Company’s involvement with the missing missiles. This wasn’t about saving lives, this was a deadly game of control, and you intend to do so flawlessly.

Phillip Graves Character Trailer

Deepthroating ~ Kinktober Prompt

Drabble - You decide to pay your commander a little visit during one of his later nights in the office...

Welp, that's that. Thanks ( .-.)

...

Here are links to some of my gaming clips if interested (shameless plug)

One | Two | Three | Four | Five

#masterlist #control #call of duty #modern warfare ii #mwii #call of duty modern warfare ii #mw2022 #ghost x reader #ghost simon riley #simon ghost riley #call of duty modern warfare 2 #john price x reader #captain john price #john price #john soap mctavish x reader #john soap mactavish #soap mw2 #soap mwii #soap x reader #captain price x reader #captain price #phillip graves x reader #phillip graves #graves x reader #kyle gaz garrick #kyle garrick x reader #kyle garrick #gaz mw2 #gaz x reader #gaz cod

[ughgoaway]

don't you think of me?

plot; snapshots of your breakup, with one letter underlining it all.

word count; 6.9k-ish

content warnings; swearing, dramatic overreactions, distressing dreams, depression, blood, general sad vibes, drinking and no happy ending (oops <3)

a/n; guys... angst is SO HARD. idk how people write it sooooo well. this fic is inspired by the songs "Sad Beautiful Tragic" and "I Almost Do" and the storyline is based completely on those songs! but there are a few other Taylor song references in the fic too. anyway, this kind of jumps around a lot, perspectives and timelines. so if it's completely incomprehensible, I am so sorry!! lemme know if it's so awful I need to have a re-write lol. I really hope the flashbacks are clear, and that this timeline makes any sense whatsoever <3

(p.s this is basically dedicated to 🍪 anon and bff anon, ty for riding so hard for this fic lol)

(this is non-canon)

✿❀✿✿❀✿✿❀✿✿❀✿✿❀✿✿❀✿✿❀✿✿❀✿

The cold wind hurts Matty's face as he battles against it. Each gust feels like needles prickling his cheeks. But still, he pushes through, not really feeling much of anything these days anyway. The paper in his pocket scratches his hands as he burrows them in deeper, but he just grips it harder. The scratches made him feel more human anyway. They convinced his hazy head that maybe life was still happening around him. 

The red post box in front of him is almost taunting. He stands frozen, gripping the letter he’s worked so hard on tightly. He has the passing thought of just letting it go, watching it blow away in the breeze, and never having to think about it again. 

He never has to think about you again. 

But he knows that's unrealistic. How can he never think of you again when you're all he thinks about? Every waking thought he has is about you. He still thinks about how your breathing changed when you slept next to him. The way your lips curved into the smirk he loved whenever you teased him. The flush that covered your cheeks when he did it back. 

Every morning, he still gets out 2 mugs. He still grabs your favourite wine at the shops and doesn't say yes to plans without thinking if he should check with you first. The last time he saw you was still burned into the back of his mind, and he was not sure it could ever leave. 

And to be honest, he doesn't know if he wants it to. If healing means forgetting you, forgetting everything you built, then maybe it is better to live in the pain. Each time he begins to heal, he picks up the scab over and over again. The sting reminded him of you, so he picked and picked. Blood poured from him relentlessly, but that was all he could do. Bleeding for you was all he had of you anymore.

He shoved the letter in and walked away briskly. He fought every bone in his body telling him to go back. To smash the post box and filter through every letter until he found his. He imagined a world in which he hadn't sent it, where instead he turned around and marched back to his house. 

Or maybe there's a world where he marched to your house instead. Maybe he finally got over himself and told you everything in person. He begged and pleaded for you to forgive him, to look him in the eyes and tell him you've been hurting just as much as him.

Matty isn't sure that world exists, though.

✿✿❀✿✿❀✿✿❀

3 days later, when it arrives, you stare at it endlessly. You move it from place to place in your apartment and try to visualise opening it there. But soon enough, that just becomes you avoiding that room like the plague, and you start to treat parts of your flat like they are infested with a deadly virus. But they're not, really. They're just filled with a small envelope with your name on it and a return address you know all too well.

You decide you aren't going to read it 2 days later. You hold it over a candle and watch the amber flames lick the bottom of the envelope. But before you can set it ablaze, some instinct takes over, and suddenly, it's the most important object you've ever owned. You pull it from the flames and put it out with your fingers, not caring if the fire sizzles your skin. You cry and beg for it to be okay, tears streaming from your cheeks as you frantically pull it open, “No no no. fuck, please.” 

But the letter inside was unscathed, just the corner of the envelope was covered in a thin layer of ash. As soon as you see that handwriting, though, you feel the unspeakable urge to burn it again, to set it on fire and watch it burn. 

You don’t. 

You lay it on the table and go to bed. You decide tomorrow will be the day you do something with it, even though you promised yourself that every day since you got it. But you're sure tomorrow will really be the day. It has to be.

You return to the warm solace of the bed you've grown to know too well over the past few weeks, and the duvet welcomes you in like an old friend.

✿✿❀✿✿❀✿✿❀

It's a few days after he sent the letter and the day after you received it when he sees you for the first time, and he can't quite believe it. There you were, standing in the coffee shop you always went to together. 

He wondered if the baristas had noticed you both started to come in without the other. Maybe they started gossiping about it, “Did those customers break up? I never see them together any more” and he could almost see someone else saying “I hope not. They were cute.”

Even though he knew no one would ever actually say that, and that the baristas hadn't noticed anything.

Some force that he couldn't explain pulled him towards you, and before he knew it, he was reaching for your arm. “Hi” he breathed out heavily, staring at you like he wasn't sure you were real. He wasn't convinced that you were anything but a figment of his imagination. Has his delusions about you already gotten to the point where he's having visions? He thought it would take a few more months for that.

“Matty?” You say gently, tracing your eyes over the man in front of you. Hearing your soft voice after months without you felt like heaven on earth for Matty, relaxation washing over him just at the soft dulcet tones of you.

Matty smiled softly at you, and you immediately returned it. He can see the cogs turning in your head on how to greet him. Was a hug too much? Is a wave too little? Is a handshake too formal? Overthinking was one thing you were so good. Matty was sure you could win an award for it. So he decided to take the decision into his own hands and wrapped out up in a hug, burrowing his face in your hair and smelling that familiar floral aura he'd fallen in love with.

Your whole body tensed when he first touched you. The once familiar feeling now was slightly cold and awkward. But Matty felt you relax and couldn't help the grin that spread across his face the the feeling of your head in his neck, the place you always used to lay. He swore he could feel you breathe him in, but soon convinced himself it was wishful thinking.

Reluctantly, you pull away, looking up at Matty with glassy eyes. The barista next to you clears his throat, bringing you both back to earth and out of whatever haze you were in. “your tea is ready” he says awkwardly, eyeing you and Matty with a sly smile on his lips.

“Right! Sorry, yes. Thank you” You grab your cup and turn back to Matty nervously. He can see the anxiety radiating off you, just like it always had. He never thought it would be directed at him, but he tries not to overthink it too much.

“Do you-” You clear your throat, shaking your head as you try to process that you're seeing him again. Seeing your Matty. “Do you want to sit with me? Catch up?” 

Matty can see your hands shaking around your cup and the nervousness swimming in your eyes. “Of course,” he says easily. He could never deny an opportunity to spend time with you. Especially not when he hadn't seen you in so long. And certainly not when you still take up his every waking thought. 

The conversation flows like you had never left, easily chatting and catching up like you always had. You tell Matty about the cat you adopted and how she loves to sit on top of the fridge to scare you. He tells you about his mum and her latest drama. Her kitchen cupboards were the wrong colour of grey, and it was the topic of conversation for much longer than he thought possible.

The first bout of silence comes when you ask about Annie, and Matty can tell it took every ounce of strength to force the words out of your mouth. You felt like someone had taken one of your vital organs when you left her, and you can still see her face in your mind whenever you close your eyes.

“she's good. Misses you, though. Especially because she doesn't see you at school anymore since you got a new job” he says with a solemn smile. Matty tries to hold eye contact, but he gives up a few seconds into it, instead staring at his coffee as if it was the most interesting thing in the room. 

Thankfully, soon enough, the once stilted silence becomes easy chatter and laughter all over again, Matty welcomed the warm conversation with open arms, missing your presence more than he ever thought possible.

But Matty's mouth soon got ahead of him, “so when was the last time I saw you?” he asked thoughtlessly. His brain was on autopilot, and the words poured out of him before he could stop it. The very topic you'd both been dancing around was now laid out in front of you, and it couldn't be ignored. 

Matty saw something in your demeanour change, your once soft smile morphing into a faux-happy grimace, “Don't you remember? You screaming at me in the kitchen? And then storming out after saying what you did? Maybe you remember smashing a plate on the floor?” Matty pauses at your words, not quite believing you're deciding to re-hash all of this in the middle of a coffee shop, especially with a massive and slightly creepy grin on your face, but he answers anyway. 

“Of course, I remember. And there's not enough words to say how sorry I am but-” he stutters as he tries to explain himself more, but you cut him off, gently placing a hand on his arm.

“Are you sure you remember? When you left me? Abandoned me? Left me sobbing and alone? What about the 30 phone calls you ignored?” You kept talking, and Matty couldn't get a word in, your voice increasing in volume with each desperate question. 

“Look I’m so sorry-” Matty desperately looked around him to see if people were staring at your raised voice, but the cafe was empty. The once bustling coffee shop is now like a ghost town, with no evidence of another human ever being in there. 

He flicks his head back to yours, only to be in his kitchen, forced back to that night. He stares at you in your pyjamas, tears streaming down your face. He flicks his eyes down to see him dressed in the same liquor-stained clothes, and he can taste the red wine on his tongue.

“Why” you whispered over and over again, gradually getting louder, eventually shouting at Matty as he stood there motionless.

Matty wakes up in a cold sweat, panting wildly as his brain fights to figure out what the fuck is happening. He scrambles to his phone and realises; it's still the same day. It was just another fucking dream. He knows nightmare would be the better word, but he can't bring himself to describe anything with you in it as a nightmare. 

With a heavy sigh, he flops back to his pillow, gripping his phone desperately and trying to fight the urge to call you. It almost doesn't work, and he clicks on your contact and lets his thumb hover over the call button. He sees the unanswered calls and the pleading messages. He can feel the desperation through the screen. 

He thinks your new boyfriend must've blocked his number because that's easier than thinking that you just hate him. Each time he reaches out, there’s no reply, and he feels a part of himself die.

He hadn't tried for a few months now, but he still had that urge to type out his every thought, to send it and call you until you answered. But he doesn't. 

It doesn't occur to Matty that the real reason that the reason you don't answer isn't because of a new boyfriend or because you hate him. Instead, it’s because you know you can't deal with another goodbye. You can't risk all this happening again. You were already practically ripped open. You can't risk tearing the very stitches you worked so hard to sew closed.

But matty doesn't know that, so with a huff, he clicks off you and onto George, and this time, he lets the phone ring.

“Huh? what-” he hears the groggy voice over the phone mutter, and it's then he realises maybe ringing George at 3 am because he had a nightmare wasn't the best decision. But it was too late now, and he could practically see George's expectant face from the other side of the phone. 

“Hi. it um- it happened again” Matty said with a huff, falling back into the pillows and staring at the moonlight dancing across his ceiling. He heard George's heavy sigh and the distinct sound of ruffling sheets, George had sat up instinctively, knowing something was up.

“What was it this time? Did everyone in the crowd turn into her again” George says softly, rubbing at his tired eyes and fighting a yawn. 

“No, it started off really nice this time. I saw her again at that cafe we always went to, you know the one near the studio? We were just chatting and catching up. But then she wouldn't stop talking about that night, telling me what happened all over again. And then I blinked, and I was back. I was in that kitchen again, just staring at her.” Matty follows the moonbeams with his eyes, lingering on the two beams crossing over, only for their paths to separate once again.

It reminded him of you and him.

“I think you need to get some lavender oil or some shit. You need to sleep. And these nightmares aren't helping” George says firmly, Matty would usually fight him tooth and nail at the suggestion.

He claimed it was because that stuff had never worked for him, but George knew it was because he saw it as still having a part of you in his life. Even if you were there in the form of his demons, at least they all looked like you.

But to his surprise, Matty immediately crumbled, “Yeah, you're right. Will you come to Boots with me after the studio tomorrow?” George agreed quickly before Matty could change his mind.

But he didn't try to, Matty simply said, “Thanks. Okay, I'll let you sleep now… Bye.” And before George could tell him it was okay, and he’d stay chatting as long as Matty needed, he was gone. 

Tears leaked from Matty’s eyes, wetting the same pillow where you used to lay your head. This loop of healing felt endless, and Matty wasn't sure if fixing this was possible when he knew you were still out there without him. Forever wouldn't have even been enough with you, but now he has nothing. What is he meant to do with no you?

✿✿❀✿✿❀✿✿❀

As Matty lay awake in Manchester, you were in the same position in London. The same lonely bed, but different cities. Unlike him, you haven't managed to sleep yet. Instead, you can't stop your brain from imagining what is in that letter. Your mind falls back to that night, and you replay the events over and over again. Every word Matty said was etched in your mind, so it played easily, the same script ringing in your ears all these months later.

//////////////////////

Matty shut the door delicately. Getting home at 2 am. was already bad enough. He didn't want to wake you or Annie in the process. But when he saw the light pouring out of the kitchen and heard the distinct hissing of the kettle, he knew you were awake. And he knew you were waiting for him.

He walked into the kitchen silently, leaning on the counter and watching you potter around, he remember when he used to sit here for hours and dream of you in his house. Now he's not even sure the last time you said I love you to each other. You continue to ignore Matty, but you getting a second mug out of the cupboard tells him all he needs to know. This is going to be a long night. 

“At the studio late again?” You ask, passing Matty his mug and leaning across from him. Your eyes trace up his figure, and you can't help but think you don't recognise the man in front of you. His clothes hung off of him, and heavy bags sat under his empty eyes. His hair was standing on end, once perfectly manicured curls now frazzled beyond repair.

“Yeah, George wanted to fix this harmony. Sorry I'm back so late” he knew lying to you was wrong. He really did. But he couldn't bring himself to explain where he actually was, drinking alone in a bar rather than at home with his family.

“Oh. okay.” you pause and wait for Matty to correct himself, giving him a chance to be fucking honest for once. But he doesn't, so you push again.

“That's weird though, because I asked Charli where George was 2 hours ago, and she sent a photo of them together. In bed.”

Matty's eyes widened. He knew he'd just been caught, but he wasn't ready to give up the lie yet. He just needed a few more weeks away, and then he would come back. Then everything would be made right again. So his tipsy mind comes up with a new lie and pleads with whatever God there might be that would believe him, “Oh did I say George? I meant Hann, you know how I get when it's late”

“Matty. You stink of booze. Do you think im an idiot?” You sigh, placing your tea down and crossing your arms over your chest. The anger bubbling within you was threatening to spill over. You felt as if every word from Matty was a stab, yet he kept just pushing the knife deeper.

“So I had a drink at the studio! Sue me, Jesus Christ” Matty sneers at you as he talks, slamming his cup onto the counter, ignoring the burning on his hand from the tea falling over the rim.

“Liar” you click your tongue at Matty and cast your eyes to the floor. Staring into his eyes as he lied to you was agony, and you're not sure how much more pain you can take.

“I'm not lying. I swear I just-” he tries to argue, but you refuse to let him keep going.

“I know you're lying. You're always fucking lying! You weren't at the studio.” you sighed heavily flicking your eyes up to Matty briefly, but the tension was too much, it hurt to look at him.  

“Baby, cmon, calm down. It’s okay, yeah? I’m here now,” Matty moved towards you, grabbing your cheek in his hand and moving in to kiss you, prepared to make this all melt away just like he always did. You try to push him away, but Matty stands strong. He had to fix this. He needed to kiss and make up. It was all he knew how to do.

“Would you just fucking listen” you shout, pushing Matty back across from you, “I don't even know who you are anymore! These past few weeks have made you into a man I don't even fucking recognise.” You look up at him with crazed eyes and scoff at the sight of the man in front of you. 

You were done with it all. The lying, the running away, the sleuthing around. Done. You were having this conversation, and you were having it now.

“No please don't say that. You know me. I don't know who I am without you knowing me,” Matty begged, sobering up quickly at your words.

He needs to bring this back, claw what little life you had left in you to the surface. Everything that left Matty’s life has had claw marks in it, and he would be damned if he'd let you go without the same scars.

“Don't you understand that's the fucking issue, Matty? You don't know who you are anymore, I don't know who you are anymore. You need to be a person without me.” your words struck Matty in the chest like a bullet. 

Were you seriously suggesting what he thinks you are? Do you actually want to break up with him?

Matty baulks at your words. Every feeling he’d had over the past few months was catching up to him, crashing into each other in his brain as they fought to be let out. Anger won because, of course, it won. It seems to always win.

He decides that if you want to break up, then he'll do it himself. He can't let you beat him to it. He knows it's childish, but he doesn't fucking care. He needs to win this. “Please, I've been a person without you for 30 fucking years. I’m a fucking dad! I don't need you to tell me who I am.”

“Annie needs both her parents, Matty. We need you back, please.” The mention of Annie makes outrage bubble within him like it had never done before. He can't believe you'd practically threatened to break up with him one minute and then beg for him back for the sake of his daughter the next. Because that is what she is, she's his daughter.

“You don't know what it's like to be a parent y/n,” Matty mumbles under his breath, but he might as well have screamed it at you because that's how loudly it rang in your ears. He knew he'd fucked up as soon as he said it, but there was no going back now, and he could see that in your eyes.

“I don't know what it's like to be a parent. Are you fucking kidding Matty? What the hell have I been doing here for the past year? Just fucking around? I can't believe you could say that to me.” You hear your voice wavering as you force each word out. 

“Annie is just as much my daughter as she is yours” you whisper desperately. The regret of mentioning Annie was building in your chest, and it felt like a rock impeding your lungs, each breath fighting against the weight. but it was too late to take anything back now. Both you and Matty knew it.

Matty scoffs at your words, rolling his eyes as he fiddles with his fingers. He tries desperately to cool his raging mind, but he can't. He figures if he is already in this deep, why not stoop a little lower?

“Just as much your daughter? Please. You weren't here for fucking any of it. Where were you here when she was born? How about when she was sick for the first time and wouldn't let me put her down without screaming bloody murder? Or- or how about when she broke her arm and she cried when she couldn't have a pink cast? Or maybe for any fucking time apart from the last 12 months. I know you liked playing happy families y/n, but be fucking real for 5 seconds. You were her teacher, maybe a fun friend, but nothing more. And if you think you were, you're more delusional than I thought.”

His chest heaved as he finished, not taking a single breath during his rambling speech, he could see your wet eyes and he felt his heart aching but he just couldn't stop himself, words tumbling out of his mouth. "Even if you stayed, even if you never give up on us, on this. You could never be her mother.”

Both of you pause, the silence thick and heavy around you. How long could you stand like this and pretend he didn’t say that? Maybe if you just stayed there and listened to your ragged breathing, something would change.

But nothing did.

“Fuck you. You told me I was practically her mother a month ago. You said to me I was it for you, that your family was complete. I can't believe-” words poured out of you, streaming helplessly as you paced the kitchen. 

Matty tried to cut in, desperate to get a word in edgeways. The need to defend himself was all-consuming. He needed to know that you understood he said it in the heat of the moment. Words fall out of his mouth without thinking. He can’t help it.

“y/n, love-”

“I’m not her mother? Tell that to the time I took her dress shopping for your mum's wedding. Or when I took her to A&E with suspected appendicitis. and-”

“y/n. Stop, just listen to me, please.” Matty begs, he almost inches closer to you, but some ineffable force keeps him where he is, watching you pace helplessly.

“Listen to you? Oh, I've done plenty of fucking listening Matthew. All I do is listen to you! But you never fucking hear me-” 

“Can you just shut up for 5 fucking seconds” Matty shouted, grabbing a plate from beside him, throwing it against the concrete floor, watching it shatter into a thousand pieces. He just needed you to look at him, to tell him you could fix this, but you wouldn't stop talking.

A gasp from you pulls him back to earth, and he feels his heart break into as many pieces as the plate below his feet. Your wide eyes and tear-stained cheeks glare back at him, and Matty has nothing to say. He has no fucking idea what just came over him.

Matty gingerly takes a step towards you, trying to avoid the ceramic splayed over the floor. His fingers shake as he reaches his hand out to your cheek, wanting to thumb away the tears falling.

But just as he does, he sees you flinch. It wasn't even a full movement, practically a micro-expression. But you fucking flinched. And you both knew it. The veil of silence over you is thick as you both stand there motionless with no idea what you could say to fix this. To make the last 10 minutes disappear. 

Matty’s touch used to calm you. It was the only reassurance you needed. But now the mere thought of it filled you with some twisted sense of fear. The woman he had planned the rest of his life with was scared of him. And it was all his fucking fault. How had this all become his worst nightmare? How had the very thing he sacrificed so much to build crumbled and destroyed itself so deeply?

“Matty wait- I’m sorry, I was just still on edge. It's okay, im okay. See?” With a shaking hand, you grip his, bringing it to your face despite his protests. You can feel him trying to pull his arm away, but you fight him at every tug. Forcibly placing his hand on your wet cheek.

As soon as your hand drops from his, Matty wrenches away from you. The feeling of your cheek against his palm felt as if his skin was burning. The pain touched his every nerve. 

The air is charged with pure fear as you stare at the other, both of your chests heaving and your eyes glassy with unshed tears. Without thinking it through, Matty storms off, grabbing his keys as he pushes through the house. You chase after him, ignoring the blades of ceramic impaling your sock-covered feet, “No don't leave, Matty, please. Stay, stay here.” You reach to grab his arm, but Matty snatches it away before you can even feel his skin against yours.

“I’m leaving. I’m staying at George tonight. Tomorrow I’ll come pick Annie up from school. You will call in and take a sick day. Start packing your shit. I’m done. You're out of my house by tomorrow.” Matty demands, and with that, he leaves. Slamming the door behind him. 

Bloody footprints lay in a trail behind you, and your socks start slowly becoming sodden from your weeping wounds. But still, you stood there, unmoving. Shock coursing through your veins.

It was all over. Just like that.

////////////////////

The letter was taunting you from the other room, the blacked corner flashed into your mind whenever your eyes finally fluttered close. The image of you burning the letter played behind your eyelids like a movie, and you almost wish you really had done it.

But you didnt, so it still sat on your living room table, torturing you.

Eventually, you drift off to sleep, tears dampen the pillow below your head, but you ignore the thumping in your head and finally let sleep pull you under.

✿✿❀✿✿❀✿✿❀

You know you're dreaming when you're back in that kitchen. But you can't stop it from happening. The hazy filter that covers your surroundings is the only thing assuring you this isn't real, that this isn't all happening again.

Matty stands in front of you just as he had that night, but he looks different. His once frizzy curls sat in perfectly ringlets around his face, the streaks of grey dancing through them more prominent. His unshaven face was now neatly trimmed, and you admired the salt and pepper hairs within it. You can see the tears brimming in his eyes, glittering on his waterline. 

“So you'll forgive me? We can move on?” he says desperately, smiling and moving towards you with tears falling down his cheeks.

You try to speak, but your mouth doesn't move, your lips stay pressed together against your brain's protests. Not even grunts escape you. Silently, you stare at Matty, completely motionless. 

“y/n? You forgive me. I can make this right again, can't I?” Matty begs desperately. He grabs your hand but recoils at the cold feeling on his skin, your fingers cold as ice in his grip.

You fight to speak again, to tell him yes. To tell him you forgive him, that you need to try again. But still, nothing leaves your lips.

Matty scoffs at you, ripping himself away from you, “I can't believe you're ignoring me. I thought you'd be more mature than this. Call me when you can actually have an adult fucking conversation.”

He storms off, but all you can do is watch him helplessly. Every nerve in your body is screaming to move, to chase after him. And you almost do, but some inexplicable force is keeping you there, motionless in the same place where your life ended all those months ago.

So you watch him leave again, the haze surrounding you soon becoming darkness. 

You know it's a dream, and you keep on telling yourself that. But when you wake with wet cheeks and a heaving chest, it feels pretty fucking real.

You swear you can feel him next to you, awake and staring at the same ceiling. But when you turn to see him, the piled-up duvet is all that's there, along with a cold bed beside you.

It's then you decide to finally give in to that voice in your head, the one screaming at you to just read the letter, to get it over and done with. The one begging you to throw it away and never look back is nearly silenced, and it soon becomes nothing but a whisper in the back of your mind.

The letter stays exactly where you left it, and whilst you know it couldn't have moved, part of you wishes it had. With shaking hands, you grab the pile of pages, and you can feel your heart racing the very same way it used to when you saw him.

The city lights shine onto you as you finally open the pages, looking at the handwriting you knew all too well. The same handwriting that used to give you butterflies, that used to detail how much it loved you, filling pages with adoration. 

Now you're not so sure what it entails. But you read anyway, ignoring every screaming signal telling you to stop.

///////////

Hi darling,

I know I don't have the right to call you that anymore, but I can't bring myself to call you anything else. It's been a few months since we've spoken, and I've felt every minute of it. I've filled notebooks writing about you, writing to you. I must have practised this letter a dozen times, and I know this still won't be right. 

So, instead of trying to write the perfect letter, I've ripped out some pages from my journal. My therapist told me to write like I was speaking to you, so that's what I did. I’m sure she would be pissed that im sending this at all, but I need to do this for us. To remember what we once were. 

Anyway, I hope it makes you understand what this time without you has been like for me. You can ignore this letter completely and I wouldn't blame you. I won't hold it over you if you burn it and never look back. But if you do read it, I just need you to know im sorry. For everything.

(3 weeks without you)

To say the past couple of weeks have been hell for me is beyond an understatement. There is this festering part of me that thinks I will love you forever, and the knowledge that we will never be like we once were kills me, but it has to kill me. Because if I felt anything other than agony, I would come crawling back to you, and you don't deserve that. And I know that. But fucking hell, that doesn't make it hurt any less.

You know me, I don't know what it's like to have surface-level emotions. I either feel it all, or I feel nothing. and with you? I fucking felt it all. I felt every touch, every smile, every fight, every screaming match ending in tears. I fucking felt it. and for some reason- I'm still thankful for it. because at least I felt you.

I wonder if you're at the point where you miss me when you hear my name. And I can't help but think about you hearing my songs, do you change the station? Even if they're about you? But if I’m honest, they're all about you. Every one of them. Even before I knew you, they were about you.

(a month and a half)

I wish you could forgive me. I think if I knew you didn't hate me, I could move on. Or maybe it would do the opposite. I don't know. All I do know is, I miss you. 

(2 months)

Sometimes I miss you so much I can't handle it. I go driving and find the places we used to go, I sit there, and I can still hear your laugh. I can feel that all-encompassing warmth that surrounds you. but then someone speaks, or a car horn goes off, and suddenly, it's cold again. I mourn you like you're someone I've lost forever, and in a way, I have.

You know I still feel you every day, everywhere. Because you might have left, but you never really did. I still find your socks down beside the bed, and your hair ties around the house. I accidentally used your shampoo in the shower this week. You know that ridiculous Jasmine one that you pay too much for? 

It was like having you around again, I never thought the small of some shitty shampoo would be the thing that brought it all back to me, brought you back to me. Yet it was. But still, you were gone. 

So apparently, I decided to fall into the breakup trope of crying in the shower. For 45 minutes, which made me feel slightly pathetic. And it didn't help when George knocked on the door and washed my hair again. with my shampoo. But I still find myself smelling jasmine even when it's nowhere near.

You haunt me in ways I never thought possible.

(3 months)

It's 3 a.m., and I can't stop picturing your face. Just knowing you're still out there makes it so much fucking harder. I don't know how to cope knowing you're there and not here, with me. Even months later there's some sick part of me that hopes leaving me was the hardest thing you've had to do. but I hope loving me wasn't. 

I know that's selfish, and that this is all my fault anyway. so I want you to move on, even if it kills me. it's hell thinking that the one person you could never forget is fighting to forget you. 

But I hope you find the love of your life. I hope they make your tea just how you like it, and buy you those crazy expensive candles you love. I hope they will follow you to the ends of the earth, just like I would. even now. 

(3 and a half months)

I want to say you don't know how it feels to miss you, you don't know how hard it is. but I have to keep hoping you miss me just as much. because if you didn't, if you just moved on without a second thought; I couldn't cope. the fact that we will always just be an almost will live with me until the day I die. I don't want you to be an almost. I want you to be an always. but it's over, and I know that. or at least I'm very good at pretending I know that.

(4 months)

Recently, I've been thinking about “what ifs?” Despite my therapist telling me I shouldn't. But you know what it is like after breakups. It's this all-consuming thing, and you can't help but imagine if things were different.

I think in another universe, we worked out. I got over my massive ego, and you worked through your past, and it fixed itself. We got married, had another kid, and got that cat you always wanted. We'd go to Annie's graduation together. Her wedding together. you'd cry as I walked her down the aisle, I'd smile and kiss away your tears. and I know that's not this universe. but fucking hell why can't it be?

(4 and a half months)

My mum misses you. She asked how you were doing today and if I had reached out yet. I got angry at her and stormed out. If only she knew how many times I’d dialled your number and then turned off my phone. Or how many unanswered texts I've sent. 

Annie misses you too, by the way. She's finally stopped asking when you're coming back.

I wish she still asked.

(today)

I don't expect you to read all of this, and if you've just skipped to the end, I don't blame you.

but I'm sending this letter because I think I'm finally at a place where when I think of you, I don't take it as a sign from the universe that we were meant to be together. instead, I think of it as a past life, as proof that we were an almost.

Next time I see you, I hope it doesn't hurt as much as the last time.

Goodbye, my love,

Matty x

///////////

The distinct sound of dripping tears hitting paper was the only noise in the room. You watched helplessly as the ink distorted under the little pools of wetness. A million thoughts race through your mind, and you can't help but fucking hate him for sending this.

How could he do this to you? All you've been doing for months is healing, but he keeps ripping open old wounds carelessly. He has to know you can never go back. You can't trust him.

All you left behind you was a mess. You were both better off this way.

With a scoff, you grab your lighter and cigarettes, stepping onto the balcony with the letter gripped in your shaking hands. You have to flick the lighter a few times before it works, the bitter wind fighting against it. 

But soon the flame comes, you sigh happily, moving it up to the cigarette delicately balanced between your lips. You suck in a deep breath, revelling in the feeling of the smoke filling your lungs. The slight crackle brings you more relaxation than anything else these days, but you still have to fight to ignore the familiarity of the scent.

You flick the lighter again, huffing annoyed as it goes out. Once you see the distinct glow of amber, you don't hesitate before placing it against the paper and watching the pages in front of you burn up.

Ashes sizzle your skin, but you couldn't care less. In fact, you welcome the pain. A sick smile comes across your face, grinning around the now-lit cigarette in your mouth.

Isn't it funny how little words mean, when they're a little too late?

#here it is... i am nervous <3 #like i had fun writing it but is it any good?? time will only tell... #angst is difficult but very interesting to write #matty healy fanfic #matty healy fic #matty healy fanfiction #matty x reader #matty healy angst #the 1975 angst #the 1975 fic #teacher au!

[yeonjunsbxtch]

No Peace - Choi Soobin

genre: angst, smut, slight fluff

summary: You have been having a hard time with your breakup with Soobin. You felt like you were going crazy to the point where you would imagine him with you. Until one night, you broke and called him, asking for closure.

Warnings: Breakups, heartache, passionate sex, dry humping, kissing, overstimulation, swear words, pet names, alcohol consumption, unprotective sex, mental health, slight restraint, cockwarming at the end - Minors DNI

Song Inspo

pairing: soobin x fem!reader

word count: 6k+ (i'm so sorry)

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You gazed into the mirror at yourself. Mascara was running down your face as you saw Soobin standing behind you, smiling. His bunny smile was more magical than ever. His lilac colored hair shone under the fluorescent lights of the bathroom so perfectly. His hypnotizing brown eyes glistened brighter than the north star. You swallowed hard as more tears escaped your eyes.

‘How can I be crying when the love of my life is right behind me?'

"I love you."

You shut your eyes as his soft voice rang through your ears like your favorite song.

You quickly spun around to reach out to him.

Only to find yourself grasping the air.

'Oh right, I was imagining that.'

Your chest started to burn as you collapsed onto your knees, feeling as if you had been punched in the stomach. You could feel your lips trembling as you sobbed on the bathroom floor. At this point, you lost track of how many times you've fallen onto the floor in tears.

You felt stupid for trying to pretend he was there with you but it seemed to be the only way you could cope. Yet recently, you couldn't tell if it was helping you or making you go even more crazy.

It has been 3 months since you and Soobin broke up but it stung like it was just yesterday. You see him in everything you do and everything around you reminded you of him. You always found yourself taking second glances at almost everyone around you, thinking it's him at first glance. His favorite song seems to play at the most random times. You felt like you were going insane, especially because sometimes it seemed like you could still smell him. At this point, you were convinced that heart break was just another form of torture. But it was worth it when you thought about the last thing he said to you.

"We can't be together, at least not right now."

Those words played over and over again in your head like a broken record. Those words held so much meaning within them that you couldn't let go of. They were the flimsy piece of wood that was just barely holding open the window of hope that Soobin would come back to you. But you knew that would never happen. Your relationship with him had come to a point where it seemed impossible to fix. He was probably just trying to let you down easy with those words. But still, you thought about those words every second of every day.

It was now 1 in the morning and there you were, still lying on the bathroom floor. 'How long am I going to let myself feel like this?' You thought to yourself. Three months had passed and you still find yourself lying on the bathroom floor in tears with alcohol flowing through your veins. You knew you needed to let this go. Let him go. But how?

You glanced over at your phone that was lying right beside you on the floor. You had promised yourself and your friends that you would not contact him. And you've been good about that. But another thought suddenly crossed your mind.

'I need closure.'

Closure.

That was what you needed. And it's what you never got. Soobin left you with the thought of getting back together eventually. And without that closure, there's no sleep, no relief, and no peace. When he left you, it felt like he had taken a piece of you with him. And you needed that piece of you back.

You reached out and grabbed your phone. You unlocked it and opened your contacts. Your heart started to ache as your thumb hovered over his name.

Soobinnie 💗

Yes, you kept it the same. You never changed it. How could you?

You were hesitant to press it, afraid of what he will say or if he will even answer at all. You didn't want to wake him in case he was sleeping but you knew you wouldn't be able to have this courage again.

So you pressed on his name. You've got nothing to lose at this point.

You slowly put your phone up to your ear. Your whole body started to shake as the line rang. A nauseating sensation came over you as the ringing continued. It felt like it was never ending. You figured it was useless, that he was probably asleep or would just ignore your call.

Then suddenly, you heard his voice.

"Hello?"

His voice was low and muffled, as if he had just woken up from a deep sleep. You questioned if he even knew it was you.

"Soobin?" You choked out his name. Your throat burning like you had just taken a shot of strong vodka.

"Y/N?" You felt two tears fall down your face as you heard your name roll off his tongue and through the phone to you. At this point, you were speechless. You really weren't expecting him to answer your call.

So what do you say now? Do you ask him to talk? Do you ask him about his last words to you or if he has re-thought your relationship?

But then you suddenly realized it was your own self who you had to ask a question to. What exactly would give you closure?

"Y/N, are you there?"

Hearing your name again pulled you out of your thoughts. You took a deep breath before speaking to him again.

"Can you come over?"

Those words spilled out of your mouth without a second thought. And the weird thing was, you didn't regret them. You knew it was what you needed. You knew you just needed to talk to him, face to face. You swore you could hear your heart pounding with how quiet it got. Soobin was on the other end, so quiet as he thought your question through.

"Y/N.. I don't think that's a good idea."

He spoke softly. Your stomach started to turn again as you heard those words. But you weren't going to give up.

"Soobin please.. I just need to talk to you."

"We're talking right now."

You were taken back by his sudden response, attitude pronounced in his voice. You knew he just needed to understand that you weren't trying to convince him to come back to you. You just needed to have one more real conversation with him.

And to see his face one more time.

"No I mean face to face. I'm not trying to win you back. I just need to talk to you and get some closure because it feels like I'm going insane."

Silence was heard again for a moment.

"So you want me to come over right now?"

"Yes."

"Okay.. I'll be over in 15 minutes."

.

So there you were, pacing back and forth in your living room. You were growing impatient as you saw that 15 minutes had gone by and Soobin still hadn't showed up. Did he decide not to come over? Did he just want to lead you on? You were stuck in your own brain at this point and you couldn't get out. You were tempted to take another shot of alcohol to calm yourself but you didn't want him to smell it on you. Not that you were expecting to get that close to him. You just wanted to talk.

Do you call him to make sure he was still coming over?

Or would that make you look too desperate?

And suddenly it was like fate. Right as you were about to grab your phone to call Soobin, that's when you heard that familiar knock sequence.

For a brief moment, you felt calm. Hearing him knock the same way he used to made you feel the most normal you've felt in a while. But you knew you couldn't afford to feel like that. Because you knew it was over and tonight was meant for closure and closure only.

But the calmness didn't last long when you realized what was happening. You started to second guess this. Maybe you shouldn't have invited him over. You didn't think about the possibility of falling back in love with him. Not that you ever fell out of love with him.

Soobin suddenly knocked again and you knew you had to quickly compose yourself. You walked over to the door, legs feeling like jello. You took a deep breath as you grasped the door knob. You knew there was no backing out now. It was like ripping off a band aid. You just had to open the door. Don't think about it, just do it.

So you did. You felt the chilly December air hit you as you kept your eyes down, afraid of making eye contact with him. 

"Hi."

He spoke, trying to get your attention. Your eyes slowly traveled up his body, noticing he was still in his pajamas. He wore his grey sweatpants which you loved so much with his black v neck and a puffy coat. You swallowed hard as you looked up at him. Your eyes widened and your jaw slightly dropped when you noticed his hair was... black. He no longer had the lilac colored hair that you loved and remembered. But you couldn't deny that he looked even more breath taking than ever.

"Hi.." You managed to spit out. Soobin stood there with a half smile, showing one of his dimples. Memories of you kissing his dimples and telling him how cute they were flashed into your head and this was when you knew that this truly may have been a mistake.

"Can I come in? It's really cold."

"Oh yeah, come in.."

You moved to the side, letting Soobin make his way into your house. You watched him as he took off his shoes and coat. Your heart ached as you saw him put them exactly where he used to. He walked over to the couch and sat down. It was silent at first. You had no idea how to talk to him. You even kind of forgot what you needed to talk to him about. You knew you needed closure but you had no idea what that consisted of.

"So.. what did you want to talk about?" He leaned back into the couch and crossed his arms. He was staring at you with narrow eyes. You could tell he was putting up a front. You could tell he did not want to be here. And you felt bad.

"I-I don't know." you stuttered out.

"So you woke me up at 1am and asked me to come over to talk about nothing?" Annoyance was growing in his voice. You quickly shook your head.

"No I wanted to talk to you.. I'm just having trouble gathering my thoughts."

"You should have gathered them before I got here."

"I'm sorry.." You didn't know what else to say. You fiddled with your fingers as you looked around the room, avoiding all eye contact with Soobin. You could still feel him staring you down. He then let out a deep sigh.

"You said you needed to talk because you needed closure." His voice sounded a bit calmer now. He always knew you were sensitive. So he knew that this wasn't easy for you. You finally made eye contact with him again, seeing his eyes looked softer now. You nodded your head. "So.. what would help you with that?"

You thought about that question for a second, not knowing exactly what would bring you closure. You knew you weren't the best girlfriend to him. You made a lot of mistakes. So you knew you needed to start by apologizing for everything.

"Tell me everything I did wrong." You blurted out. Soobin gave you a confused look.

"Why?"

"I just need to know everything I did wrong.. please."

Soobin let out a deep breath as he looked around the room, trying to think.

"Y/N, it wasn't anything specific that you did wrong. I just felt like you needed more than I could offer."

You were taken back by Soobin's response. Why has he never told you this before?

"Wait what? What do you mean?"

"I know you were depressed and anxious a lot. You would get upset at me for a lot of things, even small things, and I felt helpless. I wanted to help you but I always felt like everything I did and said was wrong. I couldn't do anything right and I just felt like you could find someone better who could make you happy. So if anything, I was the one doing everything wrong."

Your heart broke all over again and you were holding back tears at this point. You stared at Soobin who was staring down at his feet.

"Soobin.. That's not true."

"I've told you before that I haven't felt good enough for you. That I felt like I never did enough for you. We'd be having a good day and then suddenly you would be upset with me about something, and you would never tell me what I did wrong or what was wrong in general. Then I was left wondering what happened. I would replay back every moment of the day trying to figure out if it was something I did or said that made you so upset."

"Soobin that's not it.."

"I just felt like when you would randomly get upset at me for god knows what, all the good things I have done for you and said to you, got canceled out and didn't matter anymore. And it hurt Y/N. It hurt a lot. It destroyed me so much that.. I just couldn't do it anymore."

You sat there silent. You recalled back to when Soobin had mentioned he didn't feel like he was enough for you. When he mentioned that he felt like nothing he could do or say would ever make you happy. And each time, you assured him that it wasn't him making you feel that way. But you also didn't do anything to make him feel or think otherwise.

You knew you weren't a perfect girlfriend, but you didn't know how much of a shitty girlfriend you were until now.

"I'm sorry..." is all you could say. All you could do was admit defeat. You were seeing everything differently now and you realized that you've been victimizing yourself for three months straight when in reality, you were the killer.

"I've tried to tell you this before but.. you never listened." Soobin's voice cracked and a single tear rolled down his face. Seeing Soobin cry was rare. He never liked crying in front of anyone. So seeing him wipe a tear from his cheek was enough to make your heart completely shatter.

You did this to him.

You broke him.

And the worst part was that it was preventable, if you had only listened to him.

"You're right. I-I don't know why I'm realizing all of this now. Here I've been crying every single day for months, getting drunk and pretending you're still with me just to try to cope when you're the one who needed the saving."

You ran your fingers through your hair, frustrated that you ever made him feel that way.

"You've been getting drunk?" Soobin asks.

You looked at him weirdly, why is that the thing he's focusing on?

"Yeah.. Why?"

"Does that mean you have some alcohol I can have? Or did you drink it all already?" The side of his mouth tugged up a bit, forming the slightest half smile. Your eyes started to water even more. You broke this guy and he is still trying to make jokes with you. You slowly nodded and got up to grab him and yourself a soju from the fridge.

You handed him the bottle and sat back down. You slowly opened your drink as you watched him chug half of his in 3 seconds. This confused you as you didn't want him to be stuck at your house for the night, especially since you knew he didn't even want to be here in the first place.

"Woah there, don't you need to drive home?" You asked, ready to take away the bottle.

"Yeah, we'll see."

And there it was again. Him cracking that window of opportunity open just a little bit more. Soobin looked at you once again as he took another chug of the strong drink. You took a chug of yours along with him. Bringing back that drunkenness that had worn off not too long ago. He then continued the conversation.

"So in conclusion to what I had said before, you didn't do anything wrong. I just felt like I wasn't able to give you what you needed especially when it came to your mental health."

You shook your head at him.

"No Soobin, that is what I did wrong. I didn't treat you right. I took my insecurities and my mental health out on you and that wasn't fair to you. I don't know why I didn't realize it sooner and I sure as hell don't know why I didn't listen to you when you tried telling me these things before. Most of the time, I didn't even know what was wrong. I would just randomly get upset and when you would ask me what was wrong.. I wouldn't tell you because I didn't even know myself. I know that's not an excuse, none of this is an excuse. It's just an explanation. I was just as frustrated with myself as you were. I didn't want to be like that. I never wanted to hurt you like I did. But I was being selfish, I know. You didn't deserve any of that and if I could go back and change everything, I would. In a heart beat."

You looked at him as tears flooded out of your eyes. He gazed back at you, knowing how deeply you regretted everything. His heart ached as well, hearing the words that came out of you. You didn't know it yet, but Soobin needed this as much as you did.

You watched Soobin as he wiped more tears from his eyes as well. He rubbed his eyes and took a deep breath before speaking.

"Y/N, this is all I ever wanted, an explanation and a look into your mind. All I ever wanted was for you to open up to me and be vulnerable." Soobin quickly finished off his bottle of soju to try and keep himself from crying more. You took this opportunity to also finish yours. He then got up and went to your fridge, grabbing two more bottles for both of you.

Your heart jumped as he sat back down, sitting down a bit closer to you than before. You got a sudden whiff of his cologne, the same cologne he always used to wear. The same cologne you would smell randomly during the three months you two were apart.

"I'm sorry Soobin, I really am."

"I know." He said sincerely.

"I'm also sorry I woke you up for this, I don't know what I was thinking."

Soobin took another chug of his soju before he scooched a little closer to you. You felt your heart skip once again. He then took ahold of your hand and held it in his lap.

"I'm actually glad you did."

You turned to look at him, surprised to hear him say that. 

"Really?"

"Yeah, I'm not gonna lie and say I haven't been going a little crazy as well. I feel like there were a lot of things left unsaid to each other that day and I also needed the.. uh.. closure."

You then remembered exactly why you two were having this conversation. Closure. But during these three months, you always held onto the hope that you two would get back together. But that was when you were stuck in your own narrative. Knowing what you know now, you knew that you had to shut the window for good. But not for your sake, but for Soobin's. 

"Well, then I'm glad I did. This whole time, I kept repeating in my mind the last thing you said to me. When you said that we couldn't be together, at least not at that time. I really just needed to know that getting back together wasn't an option because that's what has been driving me crazy and preventing me from moving on." 

You felt his grip on your hand loosen and you swore you could see his face slightly sulk. 

"Oh, right. I mean, I wasn't just saying that.. I meant it."

You were finally hearing everything you've been wanting to hear for months, yet it didn't bring you the joy you thought it would. You knew deep down that you weren't good for him. Your mental health issues haven't gone away and there was no way you were going to risk putting him through all of that again. But now he was the one who had that longing look in his eyes. You swallowed hard, knowing what you had to do.

"I know, but I really can't risk hurting you like that again. I don't know when I will be able to get the help that I need and I really think it would be best to go our separate ways, for real this time."

You couldn't believe what you were saying and you could see his eyes start to slightly water again. He struggled to make the slightest smile as he nodded, understanding what you were saying. Even if it's not what he wanted to hear. 

You kept your eyes on him as he stood up, seeming like he was going to get ready to leave. He stumbled a bit when trying to walk to the door. 

"Woah Soobin" You quickly got up and went over to him, trying to keep yourself from stumbling as well. You gently grabbed his arm and guided him back to the couch. "You really shouldn't drive home. We drank a lot and you drank more than me. So if I'm tipsy then I know you're definitely drunk."

He let out a deep breath and nodded, sinking into the couch. 

"You're right, I didn't realize how hard the alcohol hit me until I stood up. Can I sleep on the couch?" 

You couldn't lie and say that you didn't want to cuddle him one more time. Wake up to him one more time. Just sleep next to him one more time. 

"Well if you want, you can sleep in my bed with me. I would like to sleep next to you one more time but don't worry, that's all I want to do."

Soobin looked at you once again and smiled, this time you could tell it was a genuine one. 

"I would like that."

And with that, you and Soobin stumbled up to your room. Luckily, you two were both already in your pajamas. You got to your room and closed the door. Soobin looked around your room, noticing all the things that stayed the same and all the things that have changed. He noticed every single empty bottle of liquor in your room that you used to cope. He also noticed the framed picture of the two of you that you kept on your nightstand. It hurt him to know that you'll probably be getting rid of it when he leaves tomorrow. 

You noticed him looking at the picture of the two of you on your nightstand. You were about to make a joke about it before you saw the look on his face. So instead, you hopped into bed and gently patted the spot next to you. He climbed into his usual spot and turned off the light next to your bed. 

"Goodnight Soobin."

"Goodnight Y/N"

You slowly turned away from him. All you wanted to do was hold him but you didn't want to hurt him even more. You wished that the two of you would work. You wanted nothing more than to have him next to you every single night once more. To be snuggled up in his strong embrace and having his comforting scent surround you as you drift off to a perfect sleep. But you knew you wouldn't be able to treat him the way he deserved. He shouldn't have to wait for you to get better when there is someone out there that you know would treat him good from the start. 

You hadn't felt Soobin move since he got into bed, which made you think he passed out. So you continued to stare at the wall, wondering if you had made the right decision. Either way, you couldn't go back now. You knew you had to stick to what you said. You finally closed your eyes, coming to terms with the fact that this was it. 

You suddenly felt Soobin shift a little bit next to you. You then instantly felt the warmth of his chest radiate onto your back as he slowly snaked his arm around you. A sense of peace washed over you, as his beautiful scent surrounded you once more. Your breath halted for a second as you felt his heart beat at a quick pace. You let yourself relax into him. It was now obvious to the both of you that the two of you were still wide awake. The tension in the room grew stronger as you felt his hand gently rest on your lower abdomen. A tingling sensation shot through your core. He must have felt the way you shuddered, feeling his cold hand touch the skin where your shirt was conveniently riding up. His breath shuddered against your neck. You knew this wasn't good for either of you but your drunken mind thought otherwise. 

You slowly moved your hand down, resting it gently on top of his. This was all Soobin needed to know that you were reciprocating. He knew you well enough to know the ways you react to his advances. 

"Y/N.." Soobin breathed out. The sudden exhale on your neck sent shivers down your body, becoming hot as you heard your name escape his lips. 

"Hm?" Is all you could get out. You were slightly embarrassed as it came out as more of a moan than anything. He dragged his hand slowly up to your neck, gently moving your hair to the side. His breath grew stronger against the back of your neck. You could feel his lips ever so slightly graze against your soft skin as his hand found its way back down to your abdomen, but this time, even lower. 

Then suddenly, Soobin turned you over onto your back as he hovered over you. The room was dark. His face was barely visible as the only source of light was the moon shining perfectly into the room and onto him. You locked eyes with him as he was just centimeters away from you. His lust filled eyes darkened until they were as black as his hair.

"Soobi-" 

He then cut you off, suddenly crashing his lips into yours. His kiss was heavy as his body pressed into yours. Your lips melted into his as you felt your hearts beat as one once again. Your hand made its way to the back of his head, tangling your fingers into his luscious hair as you pulled him even closer. Your lips parted slightly, allowing him to slip his tongue inside. Your body was on fire at this point but you pulled the blankets up even more, making you two feel even closer. You knew this was wrong, but that's what made it even more intense. 

"I..I want you.. so bad Y/N.." He breathed in between his sloppy but passionate kisses. 

"But Soobin.. what about.. what about earlier.." 

He slipped his hands under your shirt, slowly feeling up the sides of your body. 

"I don't care.. I just want you.. I want all of you.." 

His lips left yours to travel down your jaw and neck. He made his way to the sweet spot on your neck that he knew all too well. You felt your hips buck up into him as he took a hold of your skin in between his teeth. You opened your legs more, allowing him to position himself more comfortably between them. He made his way back to your lips, crashing into them once again. Your hands traveled down his body, gripping onto him every time he grinded his hips into yours. 

"Show me.. please.." You moaned into his mouth, making him fully thrust against you.

"Fuck.." He deeply groaned out. Hearing you beg underneath him drove him insane. 

He quickly reached down and pulled down your pajama bottoms and underwear, still while keeping his lips on yours. You shuffled them all the way off and kicked them to the side. Soobin thrusted against you again, grinding his clothed dick against your bare clit. You moaned out, finally feeling the friction you needed. Your hands made their way to the waist band of his sweatpants and boxers. You forced them down the best you could before he shuffled his off as well. 

You grabbed a hold of him, making him let out a small whimper. He then took a hold of both your hands and pinned them above you. He pulled back, staring down at you with dark and lust filled eyes. He didn't want to waste anymore time. The thought of using a condom neglected to cross either your minds. His mouth hung open as he stroked his dick against you before sliding into you. He watched as you knitted your eyebrows together feeling his cock stretch you out so perfectly. You couldn't help but let out a long moan, finally feeling his cock inside of you again. Your pussy clenched around him earning a low groan from him. As his hand kept yours pinned above you, he used his other hand to pull on your hair causing you to keep eye contact with him. He started to slowly thrust in and out of you, observing your every expression. 

"Did you miss me Y/N? Hm? Tell me you missed me." 

He thrusted harder into you, making it hard for you to form the words he was demanding from you.

"Fuck Soobin.. I missed you.. I missed you so fucking much.." 

"Fuck.. I missed you too babygirl.." 

Your stomach felt like it flipped upside down when you heard him call you babygirl. He continued to fuck you hard as he let go of your hands, taking his shirt off in a swift motion. You immediately wrapped your arms around his torso, pulling him closer to you. He quickened his pace when he felt your nails dig into the skin on his back. You could feel the pressure building up in your stomach as he thrusted even deeper into you, his lower abdomen hitting your clit so perfectly.  

"Tell me baby.. tell me you missed my cock."

With every hard thrust you let out perfect little moans that were music to his ears. 

"I missed your cock so much Soobin.." 

You then wrapped both of your legs around him, making him fuck you deeper than you thought was possible. You threw your head back as the sound of him fucking you filled up the room. The pressure continued to build up in your stomach causing you to instinctively push him away. Soobin quickly took a hold of both your hands again, restraining them above you once more. His other arm wrapped around your waist as he held you in place, pounding into you even harder.

"I thought you missed my cock huh? Why are you running from it, hm?" 

You squeezed your eyes shut, tears rolling down your cheeks from the intense pressure. Sex with Soobin was always great, but the intensity of his thrusts now was nothing like you've experienced before. 

You opened your eyes again to meet his. The strands of his hair were drenched in sweat. He stared back down at you, mouth hung open as he watched the way you were reacting to his cock practically destroying you. You gazed into his eyes, savoring this moment. Savoring the feeling of him inside and all around you. He gazed back down at you as he did the same. As you were looking at him, you could have sworn you saw his eyes start to water as well. His grip on your hands above you loosened as his hard thrusts became more sloppy. You slipped out of his grasp and held his face with both your hands. 

Soobin suddenly lowered himself, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck. Wrapping his strong arms around your body, he slowed his thrusts just enough to regain control of himself. He couldn't hold you close enough. 

"I don't want to let you go again" He breathed into your ear, "I'm not letting you go again Y/N."

"but Soob-" 

Before you could finish your sentence, Soobin's hand pressed against your stomach, feeling the way his cock moved inside you. 

"No buts.. You feel this? You feel my cock ramming into you? This means your mine." The pressure intensified and you were on the verge of exploding. His breathing became heavier as he was watching you. Your moans turned into whines as you squirmed underneath him. "Baby, I know those whines. Cum for me, cum on my cock babygirl."

You moaned loudly, curse words flooding out of your mouth as the pressure in your core finally released. A euphoric feeling enveloping you as you started to see colors. The sound of Soobin's thrusts became wetter as you came around him. 

"That's it baby, let it out."

He continued to ram into you, overstimulating you until you were a puddle underneath him. 

"Stop please.. fuck Soobin I can't-" 

"Tell me baby, who's gonna fuck you like me?" You turned your head to the side as you tried to crawl away again. Soobin grabbed your face by your chin, turning you back to him, forcing you to look him dead in the eyes. 

"I asked you a question, who's gonna fuck you like me?"

"No one.." You breathed out. Soobin leaned down to kiss you once more, becoming sloppier by the second. 

"Ahh.. Fuck I'm gonna cum Y/N.."

You didn't know what came over you to wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him even closer to you. His thrusts became messier as he got closer to his orgasm.

"Soobin.. cum inside me.. please" You begged him, not knowing what made you demand that.

Soobin looked down at you, giving you a confused look as he processed what you said. But it was those words that caused him to come undone, and by then it was too late to try to pullout. You moaned as you suddenly felt a warm sensation inside of you. You watched as Soobin squeezed his eyes shut, bucking his hips into you as he rode out his high. He let out low groans as his thrusts came to a slow stop. 

You two laid there in that same position for a minute, catching your breath and savoring the moment. Oh how you didn't want this moment to end. Soobin gently cupped your face and wiped away your tears with his thumbs. You stared back up at him, his eyes now glistening with his own tears. He leaned down, gently kissing your forehead, cheek, chin and then lips. 

"Are you okay?" Soobin gently whispered. You nodded your head.

"Yeah.. Are you?"

He nodded his head as well. 

"I am."

It felt as if you were staring into each other's eyes forever. You knew this was wrong, but neither of you could deny the fact that you two still had a strong connection, a connection that was going to be hard to break. 

"So.. What are we gonna do now?" You broke the silence. The time you were dreading had come. 

"Y/n... I want to be with you." 

Your heart skipped a beat hearing him. You had longed for him for so long and here he is on top of you, telling you that he wants to be with you. 

"But Soobin.. We were suppose to get closure tonight.. This is wrong." 

"Then I don't want to be right." Soobin took your hand and held it against his chest. You could feel his heart beating fast. "This heart is yours. I want to try this again. I was listening to what you went through without me and Y/N.. I went through the same things. Let's communicate more this time and we can both get the help we need. I don't want to live another day without you."

At this point tears were pouring out yours and Soobin's eyes. It was like time had stopped and you two were the only ones left on earth. You could feel the warmth emitting from each other's souls and your heart beats were erratic. This is all you ever wanted. On the surface it felt wrong, but deep down, you've never felt more comfortable, more unerring, more raw.

You slowly nodded your head, seeing his eyes light up.

"Yes.. Let's try again."

Soobin hugged you tight. His embrace was warm and passionate and it was right then you knew, he was your person. He was your home. And you were willing to put in the work to make this right.

"I love you Y/N"

"I love you too Soobin"

#choi yeonjun #tomorrow x tomorrow #choi beomgyu #txt angst #beomgyu #choi soobin #txt smut #txt fluff #Soobin smut #txt huening kai #hueningkai #taehyun #txt taehyun #kang taehyun #txt soobin #txt beomgyu #txt blog #Yeonjun #smut #imagine

[hotchs-bitch]

Hold On

Summary: When a case hits a little too close to home, it’s time for Aaron to face the music and be honest about his feelings after the breakup

Pairing: Hotch x blank slate Fem!Reader (no use of y/n), Hotch x Beth mentioned, Emily Prentiss x mentioned oc (aka @leftoverenvy)

Word count: ~12k (the girl cannot shut up) (it’s closer to 13 but it’s worth it I swear to god it is)

Warnings: hotch pov, case-compliant violence/injuries, mentions of suicide, mentions of pregnancy & pregnancy scares, domestic actions without fluff, relationship talk/references to relationship, angst angst angst, deep delving into their feelings, this is basically a case study, I once again leaned way too heavily on song lyrics so pls listen to it

A/N: As Taylor Swift said…. Dear reader, if it feels like a trap, you’re already in one. Mwahaha. Anyways I hope you enjoy this. Massive shoutout to @munsons-curls and @doctorstethoscope for fixing my many mistakes and validating me, and to everyone who has let me take them on this little ride. I can’t express how much I’ve enjoyed writing this fic, or how excited I am to write the epilogue

Find it on ao3 here and as always, happy reading <3

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—————

There's so many dreams that we have given up

Take a look at all we've got

And with this kind of love what we've got here is enough

So hold on to me tight, hold on, I promise it'll be alright

'Cause we are stronger here together than we could ever be alone

Just hold on to me, don't you ever let me go

Once upon a time, Aaron had considered himself lucky. He had a steady job, as dangerous as it was fulfilling, with the BAU. He had a son, energetic and joyous despite all he’d been through. He had you, beautiful and strong and endlessly supportive of him. He had a version of the life he had always wanted, the normalcy of family game night and someone else making Jack eat his veggies. It had been perfect.

But then, he’d screwed up. Hadn’t he? He had opened up, just a bit too much, and told you something you didn’t want to hear. Scared you off.

Instead of spending the rest of his life with you, as he’d planned, Aaron found himself alone. He tried not to blame you, tried not to feel bitter about the inevitable result of finally opening up to someone so wholly. 

He bit back every thought of how conditional your love turned out to be, every scathing remark about how Biometrics was one of the most useless departments in the Bureau. He pretended not to care when he overheard that you were dating again, courtesy of JJ and Prentiss’ water cooler gossip.

He’d done what Aaron Hotchner always did; he’d buckled up, lifted his chin, and done what was expected of him. He’d found a nice girl, one that fell for him quickly, and he wished he could return the depths of her affection. He’d continued to work, putting away bad guys with Morgan and Reid while missing the easy way you’d always been able to read his mind in the field.

He moved apartments as soon as it became apparent that the ghost of you would never leave; he just wished that it hadn’t followed him, haunting him with thoughts of you dancing around the new stainless steel kitchen, or flopping onto the brand new suede couch.

He’d done what you asked him to, two years ago when you’d walked away from him and left him to pick up the pieces of his son’s broken heart and ignore his own.

Everyone has a breaking point, though. Aaron, to his credit, hadn’t reached it many times in his life.

There was the first time his father hit his little brother; the first time Aaron fought back. Open-handed slaps, broken noses, Sean screaming. He had never regretted it, not even when he wound up in the hospital that night.

There was George Foyet, dead on the blood-soaked carpet after a blur of a fight. Bloody knuckles, blurry vision, Haley’s blood flecked on her killer’s face. He’d do it a hundred times over if he had the chance.

There was the breakup, the one that simultaneously snuck up on him and had been inevitable. Crumpled flowers, Aaron yelling, you packing your desk. If he hadn’t snapped, would you have stayed?

And then there were the breaking points Aaron never expected to reach.

Leaving for a case the day you broke up with him, only to return to a half-empty apartment. Empty closet, the ‘hers’ sink from the his-and-hers themed bathroom scrubbed clean, your favourite mug left in the dishwasher. He had shattered the mug, thrown it off the balcony where you liked to drink your coffee in the mornings.

The first time you’d come along on a team outing after the breakup. Laughter, avoiding glances, ignoring how good you looked. He had taken home the first woman who caught his eye that night, learned her name- Beth- and given her a place in his life, like that would solve anything.

No matter how many breaking points he experienced, Aaron could never be sure about when the next one would occur. His saving grace through it all was that at least he could keep his composure at work. 

Where Aaron failed, Hotch wasn’t allowed to.

Maybe that’s why it’s such a shock when the team gets news of a bombing in New York, just days after Emily’s wedding, and Hotch nearly keels over at his desk. 

You’re in New York.

— — — 

The drive to the airstrip is a blur; the whole team is worried, of course, but Aaron can hardly see straight until he’s on the plane with a file in his hand and Emily is squeezing his arm. 

He remembers giving a quick and quiet order to Garcia, to call you and find out if you’re okay, and it doesn’t help his nerves that all she could tell him was, “Her phone is off.”

“She’s okay, you know,” Emily murmurs, discreet enough that no one else can hear. “It’s a big city. She’s just fine. We’ll catch this guy, and then you can see her. We just need to work the case first.”

Aaron- Hotch, now- takes a deep breath and does his best to hide that those words are exactly what he needs to hear right now, even if he doesn’t plan on seeing you. She’s right; they just need to work the case. “Alright. Okay,” he says a little louder, “What do we know?”

“Not much,” Morgan frowns at the file in his hand. “A bomb went off at The Vessel. It was a structure, I guess, but no one was allowed inside and that’s where the bomb was. Makes sense with the casualty numbers- Seven wounded, two dead.”

“Probably nearby tourists, taking pictures with it,” Prentiss says thoughtfully. “Maybe he’s sending a message to outsiders, but didn’t want a high body count.”

“That could be it,” Rossi agrees. “‘Stay out of my city’.”

“There’s been no communication to any news outlets so far,” JJ chimes in. “I don’t think we’ll learn much more until we get there and have a chance to check out the scene.”

Reid adjusts a few papers so they align, most of his attention focused on the task. “You know, most seemingly random bombings have a high chance of being followed up with a string of serial bombings, for a number of reasons. Sometimes the unsub gets addicted to the attention, or the feeling of killing, or the initial bomb doesn’t impact the intended target,” he continues, not noticing the look Rossi is shooting him.

Hotch takes a deep breath and tries to push back the feeling in his chest that resembles a brick being crushed into his sternum. “Alright. JJ is right. There’s not much more we can do with no signature and no other bombings. Everyone, just try to relax; I have a feeling we won’t be getting much rest in New York.”

He watches as the team follows his instruction. The tension is palpable but they know there’s nothing they can do; the waiting is everyone’s least favourite part of the job. Still, they try to relax. Morgan pulls on his headphones and closes his eyes, JJ and Reid start to play cards, and Prentiss and Rossi re-open their file folders to review case details.

As much as he’d like to do the same, Aaron can’t bring himself to move. He sits there, head against the window, and he wonders if you’re okay. Were you caught in the blast? Did you become one of Reid’s bombing statistic numbers? Or are you perfectly fine, content somewhere in the city with no idea that Aaron is on his way there?

He wonders, briefly, against his will in a moment dripping with guilt, which potential is worse.

———

Aaron Hotchner is something of a practiced master at hiding his agony. Maybe that’s why his voice is so level when the plane starts to descend, and he finally speaks to do the one thing he knows how; direct his team.

“Morgan and Rossi, go to the bombing site. See what you can find. Prentiss, head to the hospital with Reid and start talking to victims, and JJ, see if any news outlets have been contacted yet. We’ll meet at the station later.”

As though on cue, Garcia’s computer screen against the wall of the jet lights up. The tech analyst looks a bit paler than usual, and Hotch crosses his fingers and chalks it up to bad lighting until she speaks.

“Sir, there was another bombing. Three minutes ago, in a grocery store near the Village. There’s no casualty numbers yet.” She looks like she might cry now, and it’s not hard to figure out why.

“A grocery store is a serious escalation,” Rossi says, opening the file folder he’d just closed. “There’s locals, long-stay tourists, families shopping. Big jump from a tourist trap.”

“So we know he’s not possessive of the city. At least, he isn’t just trying to get rid of perceived outsiders,” JJ offers, and Morgan shakes his head.

“If this guy is looking for the homey-cozy ‘love thy neighbour’ deal, he’s not about to get it in New York no matter what he bombs,” he points out.

When the plane jostles them all a little, Hotch takes the moment of silence to re-assess assignments. “Garcia, is search and rescue at the second bombing site?”

“Yes. Well, sort of. The team is split between doing recovery at both locations,” she says, and one nod from Rossi means Hotch doesn’t hesitate to reassign.

“Morgan, you’re with me at the new site. We’ll be assisting with search and rescue before anything else. Rossi can handle the first scene by himself. Everyone else, stay as assigned.”

“Hotch, are you sure about that? I might be able to…” On what was probably going to be an offer of how he can assist at the original scene, Morgan falters. Of course he does. There’s nothing to be done when the bomb’s already gone off.

“I’m sure. There are people out there, and they deserve to be saved.”

———

When the plane hits the tarmac, his team is ready. It’s like watching a well-oiled machine, the way they pair off and head off to their assigned zones. The only pause is between Aaron and Rossi, when he grabs his friend’s arm on the way off the plane. “Dave…”

“I’ll tell you if she’s there,” Rossi promises, and then he’s gone in a black SUV while Hotch climbs into one with Morgan and heads to the Village bombsite.

“So, search and rescue,” Morgan says, raising his voice to speak over the sirens that Hotch has turned on. “Are we heading in, or assisting from the sidelines?”

“According to Garcia, the ambulances aren’t able to make it out to the grocery store. There’s too much rubble blocking the roads that aren’t under construction, and it’s New York traffic in addition to the media outlets swarming the place.” Hotch lets out a concentrated breath. “It’s going to be all hands on deck. Look for survivors, get them to an ambulance.”

“Got it.” The second Hotch throws the car into park, Morgan is sliding out of his seat and onto the sidewalk. Both men make their way through the media storm, past the ambulances that managed to park closer than they did, and into the store.

Search and rescue is there already, along with the SWAT team. They’re moving debris, lifting fallen shelves, and occasionally carrying people out to the ambulances waiting for them.

Hotch sets into motion instantly. He breaks off for the frozen food aisle where he doesn’t see anyone searching. “Is anyone over here?” He calls out, but there’s no answer.

The bomb must have come from across the store; there’s less debris here, but the shelves are twisted and collapsed all the same. Shattered glass from the freezer doors covers the ground, and he tries to avoid it as best he can as he walks down what once was an aisle.

He steps around stray items- a warped metal freezer door frame, a pile of frozen pizza boxes, pints of melting ice cream- while keeping his eyes trained for any sign of another person anywhere.

When he finally does see something, it makes his adrenaline spike. It’s a leg, poking out from under a freezer shelf. If he has to venture a guess, he’d say that someone is pinned under the bent freezer frame, but whether they’re merely unconscious or dead remains to be determined.

“Hello? Can you hear me?” Hotch raises his voice a little and gets closer to the figure. He can see the leg a bit more clearly now, and a hand poking out from under the side of the freezer. The fingers twitch slightly. Thank god.

The sweatpants the person is wearing look vaguely familiar, and Hotch can’t place them until he sees the image of Nemo on them, and it clicks. As soon as he realizes, his stomach drops. His hands go clammy, the blood rushes from his face, and it’s all he can do to stay on his feet.

When the dizziness hits him, he wants to throw something and scream and maybe sink down onto the floor and cry, but he can’t. 

He can’t, because he remembers when Penelope made sweatpants out of quilts for everyone on the team four Christmases ago. He can’t, because she’d had more than enough Disney quilt for two pairs, and had given you and him matching pants.

He can’t, because he recognizes those pants because they’re in his closet at home, but the only other person who owns a pair like this, obviously handmade, from a quilt covered in Disney characters, is…

It’s you.

Aaron can’t help himself, couldn’t stop it if he wanted to; he turns his head, bends over, and throws up on the grocery store floor, on layers of glass and rubble and thawed boxes of Pizza Pops. Right there, staring at your leg and hand, Aaron almost breaks.

But where Aaron has chinks in his armour, Hotch has none. Hotch is the one who takes a deep breath and wipes his mouth and straightens up, the one who uses every bit of strength to lift a warped freezer shelf up and reveal you, with a mangled wrist but looking generally otherwise unharmed.

You look terrified.

Not that Hotch can blame you, of course.

“It’s alright. You’ll be okay,” he says, and he doesn’t know if it’s Hotch or Aaron talking, because he sounds calm but he has no idea what happened or how hurt you are. “Were your neck or back hurt? You need to answer me.”

You’re looking up at him, gaze half-lidded, and he doesn’t know if he should be scared or relieved when you shake your head and croak out, “They’re fine.”

He knows it’s risky, knows he should call for Morgan or a member of SWAT or anyone with a gurney to transport you safely. But you’re in front of him, dazed, grimy and half-conscious with your wrist bent at an angle, and all he can do is pick you up and hold you close to him. “Hold on,” he instructs, and he feels your arm wrap around his neck.

“Aaron…” you whisper, and he strains to hear you as he makes his way towards the doors with you in his arms. No words follow, though, and he looks down to see you crying against him, silent with tears slicing through the coat of dust on your face. Your arm starts to slip, and he squeezes you a little.

“We’re going to get you out of here,” he promises, “But you need to stay with me. You’ve probably got a concussion, so don’t close your eyes. Hold onto me, tight. I’ve got you.”

When your grasp tightens again, he resumes moving towards the exit. The first breath of fresh air must invigorate you, because he feels you tighten your grip even more. “Aaron,” you repeat, less feeble than before, but he doesn’t want you wasting an ounce of energy.

“I know, but it’s going to be alright,” he shushes you as gently as he can until you arrive at the ambulance, and he passes you off to two paramedics who slide you onto a gurney.

He tries to step back but your hand shoots out and grips his dirtied suit with more strength than he thought you had. “Will you visit? At the hospital?”

The correct answer is no. No, there’s a case to work. No, you’ll be fine. No, we broke up and that’s weird. “We all will,” he promises instead without a hint of regret. “Just let them take care of you, and we’ll be by when we can.”

Relief shines in your eyes, and it’s the last thing he notes before your grip loosens on him and you’re wheeled up into the ambulance.

A minute or so passes before Aaron senses someone behind him and turns to see Derek, who’s watching the road the ambulance disappeared down. “She’s gonna be okay,” he says to Aaron, offering him a nod of support. 

Hotch doesn’t know who he’s trying to reassure.

— — —

They reconvene at the station a few hours later, and Aaron sits mostly silent while his team discusses victimology, motives, and the chemical makeup of each bomb. He tries to contribute once or twice, but he falls quiet every time he recalls the way you’d looked up at him. 

There had been fear in your eyes, of course. You’d been in a bombing, and he knows how natural fear is after traumatic events. But there had been recognition there too, a solemn kind. He wonders to himself if you wish anyone other than him had found you and brought you to safety, or if he’s worrying about nothing.

You’re safe now, and that’s what’s important. Even if you recover and stay in New York and Aaron never sees you again, at least you’re safe.

Who is he kidding? He can’t go along with never seeing you again, safety be damned. And yet…. He clenches a fist, ignoring Morgan and Reid’s discussion about chemical compounds. And yet, you’d been so close to dead. An aisle or a footstep away, and you could have been ripped away forever.

It makes him sick to think about.

He’s thinking so hard about it that he’s got no idea how long he’s had his gaze fixed on the table before JJ’s sharp “Hotch!” breaks through and gets his attention.

He clears his throat, embarrassed to be caught off guard. “I’m sorry. I was… elsewhere.”

“Did you hear what Emily said?” She asks, and he shakes his head. When he makes eye contact, JJ’s features soften. “You should go see her.”

“No. No, that’s unnecessary. We have a case to work,” he says, and Morgan scoffs at that. “We need to work it like any other case.”

“Any other case? Hotch, you carried her to the ambulance! It’s first aid 101. She could have had a broken spine, and you threw protocol out the window,” Morgan says, staring his boss down. “This isn’t any other case. You guys were in love, man. Go see her.”

Hotch sighs, wishes that the floor could open up and swallow him. Of course he wants to see you, buthe needs to catch the person who did this, first. “It’s not my priority. There are people dying, and we need to stay focused on that. I told her that we would all come visit her after the case is closed.”

“We are focused,” Emily points out. “You aren’t. You’re not helping anyone like this. Just go talk to her, see how she’s doing.” When Aaron opens his mouth to protest again, she cuts him off. “I’m not saying you should live at her bedside or propose to her, but just go say hi. It’s going to help both of you.”

When he looks to his right, Rossi has one eyebrow up. “You know you aren’t winning this one, right?” he asks, and Hotch sighs again. “Bring the girl some flowers, too.”

Aaron closes his file and stands up. “I’m not bringing her flowers,” he mutters. “I’ll be back in forty-five minutes. If anything else happens, keep me updated.”

——

When he gets to the hospital, flowers in hand, Aaron finds your room almost immediately. He knocks twice on the door, is greeted with a soft, “Come in.”

“Hi,” he says gently, leaving the door open. He watches, waits while you do a double-take like you can’t trust your own vision when Aaron Hotchner is standing at the door.

“You came,” is your response, and he can’t decide if your voice is coloured by exhaustion or disbelief. Maybe it’s both, but he doesn’t like the idea of not being seen as dependable to you, even now.

Encouraged slightly, Aaron takes a further step into the room. Maybe you do want him here, and you weren’t delirious when you asked him to visit. “You asked me to; of course I came. How do you feel?”

While he waits for an answer, he observes you. You’re in a fresh pair of clothes, and before he can enquire about it you’re speaking.

“I’ve been better.” You hold up one arm in a cast. “But I’ve just got this and a concussion, so it could be worse. Remember that case in Kansas where I broke my leg? That was way worse.”

Aaron shakes his head, wanting to scold you for speaking so lightly of an event that had very genuinely terrified him, but he stops himself. It’s not his place. In lieu of conversation, he raises the vase of flowers slightly.

“I, uh, brought you these.”

In the two long years that you’ve been gone, Aaron has never stopped reading human behaviour. More than anything, he has experience with your body language, and he looks over you with a familiar eye.

He sees the tension in your shoulders, your eyes narrowing slightly in the direction of the arrangement, and he knows that you’re remembering the last time he brought you flowers. “Thank you,” you say after a pause that’s almost too long. “What kind are they?”

“They’re Gladioli,” he says, and the words are fully out of his mouth before he remembers that he should have lied.

When you were dating, he had always brought you flowers. On your birthday, when you solved a case, when you just felt down; Aaron was there with a bouquet, one that always meant something. Celebration, or supportive love, or some other flower language message that he knew you would understand even when he couldn’t say it out loud.

He’s pretty sure that by the time you broke up, you had memorized the whole flower dictionary. But it’s possible, he hopes, that you never came across the Gladiolus flower. Hope. Love. Remembrance.

Why he bought them, he can’t say for sure. Maybe old habits die hard. Maybe he wants to know what you’d do if you recognized the flowers.

When you finally speak, it’s with an indecipherable voice. He’s got no idea whether or not you know what these flowers mean. “They’re beautiful. Can you just put them there?” You point one finger at the windowsill, and he follows your directions to place the vase down.

“Of course.” He sets the flowers down in a beam of sunlight, adjusts them this way and that until he’s satisfied. Once he stops moving, a heavy silence falls over the room.

What is there for you to discuss?

He’s racking his brain looking for something, anything, to talk about, until you speak bluntly.

“What do you know about the bomb?”

“What?” He hadn’t even considered that you might want to talk about the case. You’re a former agent of his unit, so ethically, it’s fine to discuss this with you. Still, he’s concerned about the trauma to your body and mind. Before he can speak again, or protest, you’re already talking.

“The bomb,” you repeat. “Do we know who it was placed by? Is it connected to any other bombs? What was it made with?”

This is familiar. This is okay. This is something Hotch knows how to talk about, even when you’re laid up in a hospital bed and he’s only talked to you a handful of times since you broke up two years ago.

At least it’s not awkward anymore. He can read it in the way you sink back into the bed, and how his own shoulders release a bundle of tension that’s been there since he initially heard that there was a bombing in New York this morning.

“We’re still trying to figure that out,” he admits. “It was made with the same chemical compound as the one that blew up The Vessel this morning. It was a homemade compound, nothing that could have been acquired naturally without extensive knowledge of bombs.”

“The Vessel? That’s a tourist attraction.” You sit up, but Hotch shakes his head.

“A closed one,” he corrects. “People just go there to take pictures outside the structure, now. That’s why there’s such a low body count.”

“Well, yeah, but it’s not just closed. The Vessel is the attraction that closed after a string of suicides,” you say, and Hotch’s head snaps up in attention. “It was a big thing on the news. Have you looked into anyone related to any of those suicides?”

“No, we haven’t.” He’s already fumbling for his phone. “I’m going back to the station. Just… keep us updated on your condition, okay? We would all like to know how you’re doing.”

“Absolutely not.” Hotch can’t decide if he’s more annoyed, impressed, or concerned when you stand up. “I’m coming with you.”

“You aren’t a part of the BAU anymore,” he reminds you. “You made that choice.” 

“Yeah, well, there weren’t any lives at stake. He went after a grocery store, Aaron! What’s next, the Empire State Building? Times Square?” You grab your bag of possessions collected from the bombing and rustle through for your purse. “Did you drive here?”

“You can’t come with me. You’re in the hospital for a reason.”

“For a concussion! People are dead.” You stride towards the door, holding your purse and jacket in the hand that doesn’t have a cast around the wrist. “Can you bring the Gladioli, please?”

Is he caught? Do you want to bring them because you know what they mean, or just because they’re nice flowers? With a sigh, Aaron picks them up and pulls his car keys out, knowing that you’ve won this one. “We aren’t putting your name on any reports,” he warns, taking your jacket and bag of possessions in his other hand. “Strauss would kill us both if she thinks I’m borrowing agents from other units.”

“I don’t need credit. But we need to find this guy, before he hurts anyone else.”

———

When Aaron gets back to the station, he thinks that his agents probably expected him to come back with something like Thai food, or information about a new bombing.

They likely weren’t expecting him to bring you with him. Or maybe they were, because the response of greeting waves and murmured ‘hello’s are less surprised than he had expected. 

“How are you feeling?” Prentiss asks casually, but Hotch can see the flicker of panic in her eyes when she glances at your cast.

“I’ve been worse. Listen, Aaron told me about The Vessel…” you start talking to the team as Hotch calls Garcia to loop her in, and suddenly everything feels more normal than it has in two years.

When you’ve finished filling the team in, Hotch starts to speak. “Garcia, we’re going to need history on the deaths that occurred there before it was closed down. Rossi and Prentiss, go through medical reports. Reid, I want you going through any written notes or other evidence found with the bodies.”

While he talks, he notices you slipping out of the room out of the corner of his eye. Morgan grabs his phone and calls Garcia, trying to help her comb through articles for a list of suicides that occurred at The Vessel.

Hotch sits down with Reid, paging through suicide notes and crime scene photos sent by Garcia until he feels like his head is spinning. 

That’s right around when you come back, your presence subtly announced with a cup of tea placed in front of Hotch and a gentle squeeze of his shoulder as you pass.

When he brings the cup to his lips, he smiles. It’s English Breakfast tea with a dash of sugar in it; his beverage of choice when it’s too late in the day for coffee. “Thank you,” he says, and you just give him a grin before going to assist Rossi and Prentiss.

After a few minutes of idle work and murmured discussion, Derek shushes everyone and puts his phone on speaker. “Okay, baby girl, tell us something good.”

“None of that, crime fighters. After a truly depressing deep dive through news articles, I’ve got 37 names belonging to people who… you know, died at The Vessel.”

“That’s not workable,” JJ remarks, “We need to narrow it down.”

“We said he has a protective, low body count style. Could be the family member of a suicide victim. One who doesn’t have the guts to cause the maximum amount of carnage,” Rossi suggests.

“That’s good,” Hotch hears himself say, like he’s hearing it from a distance. “A parent would show aggression. Garcia, look for suicide victims with surviving siblings in the area. Focus on the ones with older siblings.”

The click-clack of her keys is the only audible sound before she reports, “16 left. Still too many names.”

“Do any of them work in auto mechanics, or in proximity to cars?” Reid asks. “There’s a specific compound in the bomb that’s almost impossible to come by unless you have access to garage-grade chemicals or a specialized lab, and the lab is unlikely for him.”

“Two names. Anything else?”

Out of the corner of his eye, Hotch sees you perk up. “Did any of the victims work at that grocery store?”

“Uhh…. One! He wasn’t on our list of two, but his name was Jackson Moyer.”

“Wait, I’ve got something here.” Reid sorts through papers- suicide notes and similar images sent from Garcia, and Hotch doesn’t know when he had time to get them printed out- until he pulls out a sheet of paper. “Jackson Moyer. It says in the note that his girlfriend broke up with him on the same day he got fired.”

Emily leans over to look at the note. “It’s dated nine months ago.”

Nine months. “She was pregnant,” Hotch blurts out, and a heavy silence falls over the group.

Moments later, Garcia gives the confirmation. “Nora Carr, Jackson’s girlfriend, had the baby…. Three days ago, but she gave it up for adoption,” she reports. 

“Right before the bombings started.” Rossi’s observation sits heavy for a second until you speak again.

“Back to the victim. Does he have a surviving family member matching the description?” You hold the end of a pen in your mouth, worrying it between your lips while you look at your files. “A sibling or close cousin, maybe.”

There’s a moment of typing before Garcia says, “Bingo. His older brother, Jeremy. It looks like they were really close growing up; same sports teams, friend group, classes, you name it. He doesn’t work at any kind of auto shop, though. He works in retail.”

“He felt betrayed when his brother killed himself,” Hotch starts.

He’s caught off guard when you continue his train of thought for the first time in two years. The ease with which you take over his idea is one that he’s missed; sometimes, when he’s having difficulty going somewhere with a profile, he misses working with you. It’s like you hold the other piece of the puzzle.

But now, even if just temporarily, you’re here and you’re fitting the puzzle piece into place

“And he saw giving away Jackson’s child as the ultimate betrayal. Does he have a boyfriend or girlfriend with access to the chemicals used?” You ask.

“Yep. Her name is Erica Harmon and she’s a grad student at Columbia. She’s a TA in a load of undergrad chem classes, too.”

“He’s got access to the chemicals through her,” JJ says, frowning at her list of materials found in the bombs. “Almost all of this is lab-grade, and the rest of it wouldn’t be hard to find at a supermarket.”

“And he’s probably going after Jackson’s ex-girlfriend next,” Morgan says, already grabbing his gun as the rest of the group stands up.

Prentiss looks at her boss. “Where do you want us?”

“You and Reid, head to Jeremy’s house. Rossi, Morgan, JJ, I want you at the ex-girlfriend’s apartment.”

“Where am I going?” You ask, using one hand on the table to steady yourself when you stand up and wobble slightly. “I need a gun.”

“No, you don’t. You need to stay here, and I’ll stay with you.” Aaron sits back down, pulls you into your own chair with both hands on yours while he ignores the team’s stares.

“Hotch, are you sure?” Morgan asks, but Aaron doesn’t even look over. 

“Go.”

He hears the sounds of rustling to his side, his team leaving as fast as they can while Garcia says something about sending them the addresses, but he can hardly focus. “Are you okay?”

“A little…” You bring a hand to the centre of your forehead. “A little dizzy, that’s all. Are they going to be okay?”

“They’ll be just fine. We profiled that he targets the buildings themselves, not the people in them. He won’t be able to take a hostage successfully.” Aaron promises. 

He hopes he’s right.

He hopes he hasn’t lied to you yet again, especially when you give him a hopeful smile.

“I missed this,” you say, so casually that his heartbeat falters before you continue to speak, giving him clarification that he doesn’t want. “Working with everyone, being on cases. Biometrics isn’t nearly as interesting.”

The confession cracks his face into something resembling a smile. “Never a dull moment here,” he agrees before the two of you fall into a silence that he can’t decipher.

Should he have said something else? We missed working with you, or I missed having you around, or Biometrics is practically an entry-level unit. Maybe even, Are you thinking of rejoining the team?

He still doesn’t know why he lied to you on the day of the breakup, why the words ‘it’s not reversible’ had ever left his lips. You could have come back to the BAU at any time, Strauss be damned. Of course, it would be his head on the chopping block, but still. You deserved to know.

He doesn’t say anything.

“How’s Beth?” You blurt out, and he wonders how long you’ve been holding onto that question before you asked it.

He wishes you hadn’t asked. He has a moment of panic, gives you a reaction he already hates himself for before he does it. Instead of answering, he stands up and picks up his now-empty mug of tea. “I’m going to get another. Do you need anything? Some water?” He suggests, brushing the back of his hand on your forehead the way he does when Jack is sick.

The look in your eyes is unreadable when you slump down into your seat further, staring at the table. “I’m okay,” you mumble, and Aaron hates himself even more for the familiar way he caresses your hair before he walks off.

His return a few minutes later finds you curled up in one of the large office chairs, your head leaned back while you speak into your cell phone. “… not sure when I’ll be back,” you’re saying, and you glance up when he enters the room. “I’ll call you back later, okay?” 

You hang up and tuck the phone under your leg before you look up at him. You don’t say anything. 

He doesn’t say anything.

You don’t say anything.

“I brought you tea,” he blurts out. 

Aaron Hotchner, ex-prosecutor, Unit Chief of the Behavioural Analysis Unit of the Federal Bureau of Investigation, well-known in more than one elite circle for his nuanced understanding of the human mind and what makes it tick. That’s him.

Or maybe it’s not, because after two seconds of awkward silence he’s offering you the mug of tea he made for himself.

“I thought you went to get yourself one,” you say, but a barely-trembling hand reaches forward to accept the mug nonetheless. Thank god he’d grabbed a clean one.

“You need it more. How’s your arm doing?” He asks, and you shrug.

“It’s been better, but it’s been worse. Hurts less when I don’t think about it.”

Aaron has always prided himself on giving you what you need. If you’re telling him that you don’t want to think about it, he can work with that. He can distract you. “Who were you on the phone with?”

It’s excruciating, the length of time that he sits in silence before you answer. It feels like he’s waiting for a signed murder confession. He sits there and waits for what feels like days, weeks, maybe a month or two to hear you say, “My friend.”

“Garcia said you were visiting a friend. That’s why you bought the onesie, isn’t it?” He guesses, remembering that awkward run-in with Beth and Ella at the museum gift shop.

He can’t believe he brought it up. Can you see the shame for it on his face, or the tips of his ears red with embarrassment?

It had been a great day. He had had a rare day off, and he and Beth had taken the kids to the park. They’d gone out for ice cream afterwards, and finally for a tour of Jack’s favourite museum that ended with the museum gift shop. It’s almost a perfect memory, a day that he would fit into a snow globe to preserve if he could.

He knows that if he did that, somehow preserved the day in a sphere full of glycol, he would just remember the look on your face in that gift shop. He still can’t put a name to the emotion other than ‘torn’.

Aaron Hotchner; the master of understanding every human mind except yours. 

“She just had a baby,” you respond, and he blinks twice before he remembers that you aren’t in the gift shop anymore and that he asked you a question. 

You’re here in front of him now with a broken wrist and a concussion and you finally seem to be opening up to him, and he doesn’t want to risk missing it by staying in his own head.

“Boy or girl?” He asks while you sip the tea. It's an English Breakfast with nothing but a bit of sugar, but you don’t seem to mind.

“He’s a boy. His name is Tristan and he’s cute, too. Do you want to see a picture?” You’re already eagerly reaching for your phone, and he couldn’t bring himself to stop you now whether he wants to see the pictures or not.

When you show him the screen, a part of him wishes he had stopped you.

The baby is tiny. Tristan is swaddled in a blanket, the top half of his head poking out just for tiny eyes to squint at the camera. Aaron can see the top of a scrunched nose, maybe the beginning of a cry or a yawn. He examines the details, the obviously-plush blanket with grey-blue floral detailing.

Aaron does his best to fixate his attention on Tristan and ignore the fact that the photo is of you holding the baby, looking almost maternal and definitely happy and…

He looks away.

He can’t help it; he hardly stops himself to consider whether it’s rude of him to actively dodge the photo. Instead, he clears his throat. “Very cute,” he agrees, “You’re right about that.”

“Yeah. He was born a little premature, so I thought I’d take some time off of work, come up and help her out for a little while.” You look down at your cast and let out half a scornful laugh. “Some help I am. I don’t even think I could hold him now.”

“I’m sure you’ve been plenty helpful,” he assures you without a thought. After all, for years you had as much of a hand in raising Jack as Aaron did. “It just might have been cut short a little.”

“Yeah, a little. I’m probably going to have to head home after this. It doesn’t make sense to stay when I can’t do anything.” You look glum at the prospect, and without a thought Aaron reaches a foot out to bump against the roller wheels of your chair. It’s a gentle tap, one that just serves to get your attention.

“Talk to your friend,” he advises. “Maybe you can still cook, or help her clean up around the house. There’s no need to cut your time off short just because you can’t hold a baby.”

Your head tilts just a bit, and your eyes narrow as though you’re looking at an equation in the air that Aaron can’t see, let alone guess the factors of. He hopes you can solve it, whatever it is. “Maybe,” you say, and that’s when he hears the conference room door open.

“Hey, double trouble.” Morgan has a trademark grin from ear to ear as he sits down at the table, and Hotch swivels in his seat to face the team as they file into the room.

How did it appear to them? Him close to your chair, you tucked into it with one leg under you and the other hanging off the side. Did it seem uncomfortable, like you didn’t want to be there? He wishes he could have taken a picture of the two of you, somehow, something he could study and examine and hope to understand.

You’ve been alone in a room for… well, he’s lost track of time, but it’s been a while and he still can’t tell if you’re comfortable or not. He’s got no clue until you pipe up and wheel your chair closer to the table.

“Dibs on being ‘double’. You can be ‘trouble’.” You nudge his shoulder with your own, and Hotch does his best not to smile. There’s no use in encouraging you, after all. Still, he can feel some of the tension drain from his shoulders at the light tone; you’re happy to be here, happy to work on this case and to talk to him.

“Actually, you can’t assign nicknames based off of a group nickname when the name itself is a play on how many members there are,” Reid corrects as he sits down with his case file in hand. “You can only do that if each nickname is a separate title.”

Morgan groans out loud at that and reaches over to swat Reid’s arm. “C’mon, man, you’re taking all the fun out of it,” he complains, leaving Reid with a mildly perplexed look on his face.

“We can try again,” Prentiss offers, slipping out of her bulletproof vest. “Hey, sugar and spice.”

Aaron can feel your reaction before you can even open your mouth, and he beats you to it by a half second by warning, “Don’t say that I’m spice.”

The look on your face tells him that that’s exactly what you meant to say. He pushes away thoughts of Look how well I know you in favour of We’re at work.

“How did takedown go?” He asks. The debrief usually happens on the jet, but it feels wrong to discuss the case without you now. Debriefing is an essential part of each case for everyone who works on it, and he does his best to make sure that each member of his team- past or present- can leave each city with a sense of closure.

If anyone needs closure on this case, it’s the woman wearing a cast who hasn’t had to face the horrors of the BAU in two years.

And maybe Aaron, because it’s just as important to him that you feel okay after the events of the last day. Maybe you need to know that the unsub is behind bars, but Aaron needs to know that you know.

Dave, who has been smirking ever since he saw Hotch quickly wheel his chair away from yours upon the team's arrival, speaks first. “Nice and easy. We caught him while he was assembling a bomb in the apartment complex's boiler room. Taking a hostage never crossed his mind.”

“He didn’t even go to Nora’s apartment. She had no idea what we were talking about when we tried to interview her,” JJ says. She hasn’t sat down yet, and is already working to gather up the metric ton of paper covering the conference room table.

Maybe Hotch should have thought to do that.

“Good. And Erica, the girlfriend?”

“She had no idea about any of it. Morgan found a copy of her keys on the unsub’s keyring, and her best guess was that he copied them right out of her purse.” Prentiss passes JJ a stack of papers and sighs. “I feel bad for that girl. She had no idea what was happening right under her nose.”

“She had no way of knowing that her boyfriend would be pushed over the edge like he was. She’s gonna need help after this, for sure,” Morgan says thoughtfully, and the group mumbles out a collective agreement.

“Either way, mi bellos,” Rossi stands up to clasp his hands together, “The case is closed and we’ve got someone in cuffs. All’s well that ends… well, you know.”

It catches Hotch off guard when his stomach pangs at the thought of leaving. Boarding the jet and heading home. Leaving New York, leaving Jackson and Jeremy and their girlfriends in the past, leaving you to deal with the aftereffects of being injured on your own.

He can’t stop himself from speaking, even if just to re-think his words before they become law. “We can stay the night.”

There’s no subtlety to the rise of Morgan’s eyebrows, or the glance that Prentiss and JJ exchange. But there’s nothing he can do about it now. The words are out there. It’s already done.

“Why would we do that?” Reid asks, always one to voice the question no one wants to vocalize. Hotch has always loved his curious mind and his need to understand every aspect of something.

Even if he kind of wants to throttle the kid right now, because how the hell is he supposed to answer that?

“Because you all did some good work today,” he answers after a painfully long minute, “and deserve a night off. We can all go out for dinner and be on the jet early in the morning.”

That answer seems to satisfy the room, and Aaron ignores the look Rossi is giving him as he glances over at you and drops his voice. “How are you feeling?”

“Better,” you promise. “Do you, you know, maybe have an extra seat at that table?” You look nervous; he can read that clear as day. The idea that this could put you on edge almost makes a laugh bubble up in his stomach but he shoves it down in favour of a smile.

“I’m sure we can pull one up,” he assures you in a murmur. “We’d love to see you a bit more before we leave.”

“Oh.” You sound almost surprised, and he’s glad that he thought to hide behind the royal ‘we’. “Okay. Can I ride there with one of you?”

“Of course.” Aaron stands up and pulls your chair away from the table so you’ve got room to stand. Unnecessary chivalry; he has to remind himself to cut it out. “We can take a taxi.”

—

That’s how, fifteen minutes later, he finds himself in the passenger seat of a cab with you, JJ, and Garcia squished together in the backseat.

He wonders what you’re talking about back there behind the partition in low whispers, the occasional giggle, and one or two sharp “Shh”’s. The taxi stops too soon for him to find out, and your little group finds the rest of the team at a table already.

You slide into a seat and Hotch unconsciously moves to take the seat farthest from you- a habit he’s built in the last two years- only to find Morgan already sitting in it. “Sorry, Hotch. You snooze, you lose,” he defends with a wide smile.

By the time he turns to see what other seats are free, the only one left is right next to you. “Aaron, over here,” you say, and with all eyes on him there’s nothing to do but come around the table and sink into the stiff chair.

The waitress comes by to take drink orders a minute later, and Hotch orders himself a water. He’s here on official business, and he refuses to get drunk. It’s what his father did, and that always ended up in violence or big scenes made in public. Hotch does everything he can to avoid that side of himself, especially when he’s representing the government.

“What kind of wines do you have?” He hears you ask, and he turns his head to see the waitress produce a menu from what must have been thin air.

“She can’t drink,” he says loudly, putting out a hand like he can stop the menu from making its way to you. “She has a concussion.”

Speaking around you, to you, for you, is a dance, as Aaron is slowly learning.

You frown, and he hopes he hasn’t overstepped. You don’t say anything, and he holds his breath. You finally look up at the waitress and order a water, and he sighs in relief.

“Thanks, it slipped my mind,” you murmur once she’s walked away, and he gives you a tight smile before getting dragged into an argument between Morgan and Reid.

Dinner, for the most part, passes in a blur of quiet conversation and polite laughter. It isn’t until everyone is eating dessert, half the team feeling the effects of the wines they’ve been indulging in, that everything goes to hell.

He really shouldn’t be so surprised. The evening has gone without a hitch so far- Aaron’s left arm occasionally bumping your right when you try to eat at the same time has really been the only obstacle- so he figures that you’re about due for something to go wrong. Some event to stir up the peaceful bubble he’s stumbled across.

It happens, as many things do, in the form of Emily Prentiss opening her mouth. She leans over you to speak to Aaron, and it’s like he’s watching the train crash in slow motion when she says to him, “So, how’s the single life?”

He can feel the way you stiffen up next to him, white knuckles on your fork, peering out of the corner of your eye. Do you want to hear the answer? “Prentiss, please. That’s hardly appropriate.” His voice is being held together like it’s wrapped in duct tape, but it comes out steady enough.

Emily sighs at the scolding. “I just wanted to know,” she grumbles, pushing a piece of cheesecake around on her plate. “You and Beth broke up a week ago; I’m just curious.”

“Good question,” JJ says. “Have you talked to her since? Wait, is that why she wasn’t at the wedding?”

“You told us she was sick, but statistically this is the least likely time of year for someone to experience cold or flu related symptoms.” Spencer frowns down at his rootbeer. “Did you lie? You could have told us that you broke up. We could have helped.”

“Same way I got over the second Mrs. Rossi,” Dave jokes, lifting his glass in a salute. “I don’t think I left the strip club for a month.”

“Please,” Aaron repeats, raising his voice slightly. “This isn’t appropriate.” He directs it primarily to Emily, who started this whole thing, and he notices the shell-shocked look on your face out of the corner of his eye.

“I just wanted to know,” Emily repeats, as petulant as a stubborn child.

She wanted you to know, more likely. Aaron has been careful about not talking about his relationship- Emily only knows because he developed a case of drunkenly loose lips the night of the wedding and overshared to her wife, Katie- and now you know the one thing he didn’t want to become widespread. There’s no way that wasn’t intentional.

“I should…” You push your chair back with a ‘screech’ and stand up, hurrying out of the restaurant in the direction of the lobby without further excuse.

Hotch watches you go, lets out a groaned “God.” while he pinches the bridge of his nose. “I need to- I’ll be back.” He tosses down his napkin and takes off in the direction you exited.

“Now, that wasn’t too nice,” Derek points out, and Emily shrugs.

“I didn’t like the tension. At least now they’ll talk.”

Meanwhile, Aaron finds himself rounding the large fountain display in the lobby to talk to you. “Are you leaving?”

When you look up, there’s vague surprise on your face. Did you think he wouldn’t follow you? If there’s one thing Aaron knows about himself by now, it’s that he would follow you to hell and back.

“I think I should. I think that would be best.” Instead of looking at him, you fiddle with your keys and look everywhere else. The chandelier, fountain, reception desk; everywhere except at Aaron himself.

“Just… just hold on, a couple of minutes. I didn’t mean to upset you, by not saying something. I thought it would be… easier.”

That gets a reaction. Your eyes snap to his, and he can see something like hurt swimming in them. “Easier?”

“Yes. You didn’t have anything to do with it; why should I have to tell you?” He challenges, even though it’s half a lie. You weren’t faultless in the breakup, but he’s not going to be sharing that fact.

“You don’t think I would want to know?” You take a small step towards him. “Even just so I could be there for you?”

“That’s not a good idea,” he counters. “I have friends I can speak to about breakups.” He regrets his words the second that he sees the pain in your eyes. Oh, because you’re supposed to be friends now. That’s right; his last breakup was with you.

Three feet away, perched on the edge of the fountain, an older woman is watching the two of you intensely. She’s obviously listening, and that’s something that Aaron doesn’t want to deal with. “Look,” he says, his voice low and quiet, “Will you come up to my room? We can talk there, but I’m not doing this in public.”

The conflicting emotions on your face seem to be going to war until you take a deep breath and take Aaron’s hand, your fingers wrapping around his as you board the elevator.

He hopes you don’t notice David Rossi standing near the elevators. He hopes you don’t notice the thumbs up that the older man gives him, or the middle finger he gives in return.

The elevator ride is silent and long, almost excruciatingly so, and he’s half relieved once you get into the hotel room and take a seat on separate beds facing each other. His suitcase is against the wall, zipped up, and the desk is covered in various writings and readings that he doesn’t even know when Spencer had time to unpack.

You break the silence first, your face expressionless like it’s an interrogation. It feels like he’s on the wrong side of the interrogation table for once when you speak. “You and Beth broke up.”

“We did,” he agrees, and that’s when he wonders if he made a mistake bringing you up here. He doesn’t want you to hear the whole story; why not just confirm the breakup in the lobby and send you on your way?

Well, he couldn’t have done that, and he knows why. It’s still a half-decent alternative to this, though.

“Why?”

“Why… did we break up?” He clarifies, and you nod. “We wanted different things.”

Finally, emotion crosses your face; a flicker of anger. He doesn’t blame you, especially when he remembers the sacrifice you made. “Different things? So, she didn’t want more kids? Or was it work-related?”

He isn’t going to get through this without telling you the whole story; he can see that now. As hard as it is, he knows you aren’t letting this rest until you get a comprehensive answer.

“She had a pregnancy scare.”

Your sudden bark of laughter is hardly a surprise, but it makes him wince all the same. “You broke up because you don’t want to have another kid? Are you serious?”

He tries to answer. Instead, memory hits him like a brick wall, wraps its arms around him and drags him down into it.

“Aaron? Honey, where are you?” Beth’s cheery voice entered the room before she did, and Aaron looked up at her with a smile.

“Hey, sweetheart. How was your day?” He asked. He hated this domestic part, the part where he had to pretend to be just as in love as she was.

But love grows, he knew. Just as flowers could blossom from cracks in the pavement, love could develop with time and affection. It wouldn’t be fair to her, to not return the open affection she gave him.

He always wondered why it never felt easy or effortless, why he often felt like he was just a young boy playing at being in a relationship, instead of an adult who was actually in one.

“My day was good,” she said, a barely-contained smile on her face. “So, you know how I’ve been under the weather lately?”

That was an understatement. She’d thrown up more than once in the last couple of days. Love or not, Aaron cared enough that he was on the verge of taking her to the emergency room himself. “Of course. Are you feeling any better?”

“Not really. But my period was late yesterday, so I thought, why not?” Why not, what? She wasn’t making any sense, and it wasn’t until Aaron saw the little stick in her hand that the pieces flew together for him, like a puzzle begging to be solved. “And, well…” 

He stared down at tanned hands presenting him the stick, two tiny lines deciding his future for him. “You’re pregnant.”

“I’m pregnant,” she confirmed, throwing her arms around his neck. He slowly brought both arms up to hug her- a facade of excitement, even though his face would certainly betray him if she were to look at it. “Isn’t that great?”

“That’s… wow.” It was as honest of an answer as he could give. “Are you going to see a doctor to make sure?”

“Of course I am.” She pulled away just enough to kiss him, but he broke away soon enough. “Aaron? This is great, isn’t it? Aren’t you excited?” There was an edge in her voice, one that told him that his face- expressions of shock, uncertainty, certainly no joy- was giving him away.

He couldn’t dodge the direct question, the look in her eye. She already knew the answer before she asked the question, and they both knew that this was his chance for redemption.

He didn’t take it.

A week later, the doctor confirmed the false positive. Aaron couldn’t have brought himself to be upset if he tried. 

The same afternoon, Beth packed up hers and Ella’s things, and they were gone.

He wanted to feel sad. He wanted to feel heartbroken. He wanted to punish himself, for knowing that he had missed out on the closest chance he had had to a real family in years. 

It was the reason you left; your sacrifice, the heartache you’d both been left with, everything you’d both gone through was deemed useless in the deciding moment. It was his one chance, and he hadn’t taken it.

He just felt numb.

“Aaron.” Your voice, pitched sharp, manages to pull him out of his trance. “Are you okay?”

He doesn’t know why you’re asking. He wants to know if you’re okay. He wants to apologize, to fall to his knees and hold onto you the way he should have two years ago.

“I’m fine.”

“So, Beth had a pregnancy scare,” you prompt. “And that’s why you broke up?”

He hesitates. “Yes.”

He hesitated too long. 

“Why?” You ask.

He knows that you’re only pushing it because you know him.

You know him better than anyone; you know that he doesn’t walk away from things that he wants, not when he has a choice.

And wasn’t that what he wanted? Didn’t he want Beth, more children, a family of his own?

“Don’t do this.” It’s a plea, and it goes unanswered.

“Why did you break up? Aaron… come on.” The desperation in your voice kisses his ears. It reminds him that you’ve been hurt at least as badly as he’s been. It tells him that you aren’t there as a concerned friend; you’re there as someone who deserves the answer to the question you asked. Someone who’s a part of the twisted equation, who fits into the formula of the last two years. Someone who’s been hurt by him, for him, only for him to throw that sacrifice away.

He replies by just saying your name, the name he’s spoken so many times. He’s said it before with love, playful annoyance and affection. After the breakup he said it less often, and it was often delivered with spite or tears of proportions that he didn’t know he would, or could, shed.

This time, when he says your name, he thinks he sounds… broken. His voice cracks, his face flushes, and he looks down at his feet. He’s still got his dress shoes on, and he counts the eyelets- 3, 4, 5 pairs of them, black laces looped neatly through- without saying another word.

Your name, as broken as it is between his lips, is an admission of guilt. It’s a confession, an entreaty for you to stop pushing, and it contains unspoken defeat.

“Aaron.” Your voice is firm when you repeat his name, and his eyes snap up from his shoes- 3, 4, 5, 1, 2, 3, 4, 5- to meet yours. “Don’t I deserve to know?”

You do. He knows you do. The ‘don’t I deserve?’ angle is never something you’ve used, and he knows this is a last ditch effort to get the truth out of him.

You do deserve to know.

How can he say it? How can he tell you the truth? How can he possibly look into your earnest eyes and pretend that he can defend himself and the decisions that he’s made?

He can tell you that more kids doesn’t make sense; he knows that, in a factual sense. He wasn’t around enough when Jack was little, is hardly better at being around now. The job is priority; he could get hurt or worse, and leave behind a widow with more mouths to feed than she can handle. He could become a twisted version of his father, pitting his children against each other. He’s too old to run around with toddlers for the next ten years.

He can tell you any number of things that make sense, but you won’t accept anything less than the truth. That, at least, is written plain as day on your face.

“She isn’t you.”

His words hit you like a bucket of ice water. They slap you so hard that you have half a mind to bring a hand up to your cheek and check for sore spots. “Aaron-”

“It’s true. I’m sorry if that’s not what you wanted to hear, but you wanted the truth and that’s it.” His breathing sounds more ragged now, like he’s fighting to stay collected. 

He doesn’t know what he was thinking, telling you. He isn’t trying to get you back. You made your choice, you walked away, and that’s that.

“Aaron. You want a family,” you remind him, your voice cracking. How can he not remember? How can he throw away the last two years, disregard your sacrifice like this?

Hadn’t that always been his dream? A positive pregnancy test with a woman who loved him? And yet, in the final hour, he’d walked away. He’d made a choice, one that he has to face now, with you.

“I know. God, I know, but it just… it couldn’t happen.”

“Because she’s not me? Are you serious?” Your voice is hardly above a whisper, fraught with disbelief and maybe a hint of fear at the potential weight of his answer, and you wish that Aaron were speaking even quieter when he responds. You wish you couldn’t hear him at all.

“Because there’s no family without you.”

The dry scoff that escapes you is answer enough, especially once it’s paired with your head dropping into your hands. “Then what the hell have we been doing?”

“I tried,” he defends. Desperation is poured into every syllable, filling in the spaces of the things he can’t say like resin on wood. “I gave it a chance, she was happy. But when I saw that test…”

Neither of you knows if he’s stopped to figure out what he should say, or if it’s because he can’t say it. He looks small, appears defenceless in a way that he never lets himself.

“I couldn’t do it,” he finishes. He spreads his hands out, a placating gesture. “I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t want a family with her. When I saw that test, I was scared. Terrified. A baby is a commitment, and I don’t- I can’t- see myself making that commitment with anyone but you.”

“You know how I feel about kids.” For a moment his eyes flicker down, to where your phone sits on the bed, and you have half a mind to wonder if he’s going to bring Tristan into this.

Maybe he’s settled more into this conversation. Maybe he’s realized that he doesn’t have much to lose here. For whatever reason, his rebuttal to you, perched facing him on the opposite bed- worlds away, yet only mere feet- is more of a challenge than a question. “When did I ask you to have any?”

“What?” You tilt your head the slightest bit, stray hairs illuminated in the yellow-grey light, and he thinks his heart skips a beat when you blink.

“I didn’t ask you to have kids. I never asked for that.” He knows it for a fact; that simple thought has been his port at sea more than once, on the nights where he wondered exactly how things had gone so wrong.

You blink again. ‘I want us to get married, have as many kids as we can, I want all of that and I want it with you.’ Those were his words, spoken so passionately two years ago.

But there were other words, too, and they fly back into your mind like they’re trying to haunt you. Words that circle you, remind you that you were the reason he couldn’t have that life.

‘I’ve been thinking, and you’re more important to me than having more kids.’

‘Just say the word, and I’ll never bring it up again.’

‘I’m not going to sit here and tell you what I want, because I’m not forcing you into that. You don’t want it, fine. We don’t do it.’

You remember him confessing what he wanted, so earnest and unexpecting of you to go along with it.

Phrases swirl your head, sentences that haven't done so since the breakup.

Sentences that you hadn’t let yourself understand until now. 

‘I would be happier knowing that I’m in a relationship with someone who wants the same things I do. I want that with you, I want you to want it, but that isn’t happening.’

‘I want us to go back to normal. How we were.’

‘You’re all I need. I mean it.’

“You want a family. That’s what you want.” Your protest is weak, and you don’t know if it’s a protest for your self-protection or his feelings.

Maybe it’s both.

“You were my family. You and Jack. I was so happy with you.”

“Not as happy as you could have been,” you counter. Aaron visibly hesitates, a moment of back-and-forth sway before he crosses the room to sit next to you on the other bed.

“You…” the breath he takes is deep and rattling. “You made me happier than I could ask for.”

You move back and he does too, kicking off his shoes to mirror your crossed legs. The two of you sit and face each other. The headboard sets the scenery behind him, cheap hotel wall art behind you. When you take a breath, so does he.

“You walked away,” you remind him. It isn’t a show of blame; it’s a reminder, pure and simple, that he wasn’t happy with you. 

“No, I didn’t.” He reaches out, one of his hands trembling as it grasps yours. “I wouldn’t have.”

He doesn’t say anything for a minute. Instead, he watches as his hand wraps around yours, squeezes it once.

He’s just about to let go when you squeeze back.

“You told me to go,” he whispers, staring down at those linked hands. If he looks you in the eye now, he doesn’t know what he’ll do. “It’s what you wanted.”

You laugh, and the sound is humourless and dry. “What I wanted? Aaron, you only stayed past that first day for me, to make me feel like I wasn’t ruining your life. I didn’t kick you out; I let you go.”

“I didn’t get a choice. I chose to stay, I chose you above a bigger family, and you didn’t let me,” Aaron says, and your hand tightens on his. “I tried, okay? I- I found Beth, we moved in together. For God’s- Ella called me ‘dad’. I did my best to have that life. I tried. It didn’t work.”

“I don’t know what you want,” you confess, and he hates himself a little more when he sees the heartbreak in your eyes. “I just want you to be happy. I thought I was giving you that.”

Aaron shifts himself, moves a little closer to you. He thinks he might be about to say the wrong thing, the thing that destroys whatever tentative relationship the two of you have built.

He doesn’t care.

This relationship, this dance of overdoing and understepping and caring too much without saying enough? He doesn’t want it.

He doesn’t care about throwing it away.

“Nothing,” he vows, extending one hand to raise your chin when you look down, “Nothing has ever made me as happy as you did. That’s all I wanted. You.”

You avert your gaze, and you feel your face grow warm. It’s been a long time since he looked at you like this, with all of the care and attention in the world somehow pouring from the gaze of warm hazel eyes locked on yours.

“What do you want me to say?” You ask after a stretch of silence. Not even the sound of breathing dares to disrupt the quiet; neither of you want to make the wrong move right now, not when you can see the crossroads ahead. 

“Whatever you want to say. Just not what you think I want to hear.” 

That’s what it’s come down to, at the root. Both of you lying, sneaking, saying and doing whatever you can to protect the other’s feelings and do what you think is best. He’s tired of it.

You did what you thought was the right thing, and let him go. He did what he thought was the right thing, and chased the life you made possible by leaving. But neither of you are happy, and he can admit that now.

“I still don’t want kids.”

“I’m still not asking you to have any.” He waits two beats, unsure if he can even bring himself to ask what he knows he has to.

“Does Jack count?” He’s breathless as he waits for the answer. You could have found freedom in the last two years, after several spent living a mother’s schedule. Maybe you don’t want a hand in any child’s life, and he won’t begrudge you that.

“He’s… no,” you say, and Aaron exhales in what might be relief. “But that doesn’t mean I want more. You want more.”

“I want you,” he corrects, the same way he did two years ago. Maybe this time you’ll listen, and accept his words for the truth that they are. “I had more. I didn’t want it, not without you.”

Your breathing, shallow and timid, hitches at his words. He notices the slip-up in a heartbeat, wants to trip over himself and correct it. Before he can, you say, “But the future-”

“The future,” he interrupts, clasping one of your hands in both of his, “My future, it only matters if it’s you.If you’re happy with Jack, I’m happy. You’re what I need. You’re all I need.”

“Aaron, please.” Your voice is small, and that’s when he realizes that he’s been trailblazing this conversation with hardly a thought about what you want. Maybe you’ve moved on, or fallen out of love.

He doesn’t think you have, though. Between your conversation at the wedding and the fact that you’re still here, both hands now holding onto his, wide eyes peering into his own, he thinks he’s made a safe bet.

“Please, what?” He murmurs. He can defer to you now, let you approach this at your pace. He’s said his piece.

It’s not until he sees your eyes squeeze shut that he remembers your concussion, and he’s sure that this conversation isn’t helping what must be a painful headache.

“I… it’s getting late. And I really should sleep. My head...” 

Every instinct in Aaron’s body is well-honed, trained to take opportunities that might pass him by otherwise. It’s what got him Haley, what got him into the BAU, and now it’s what might get you back.

Every instinct is screaming not to let you leave. 

“Do you want to talk more about this later?” He offers, his right hand releasing your left. The other two stay linked, his fingers brushing the cast, and you make no move to loosen them as you nod.

He waits. He isn’t sure what he’s waiting for, but he waits.

You close your eyes, already on the verge of rethinking before you speak. But you’ve got instincts, too, and they’re all telling you to stay in this room. Your future is in this room, and you aren’t about to close the door on that. Even if the conversation can wait, you know exactly how it will end.

It’s clear to you now that Aaron only left because he did the same thing you did, tried to protect your feelings. He never would have left if you hadn’t forced his hand and left first, and the thought of the time that you lost makes your chest seize unpleasantly.

It’s not too late to undo old mistakes, though.

“Can I sleep here? It’s not really safe, getting a taxi this late.”

Aaron lets go of your other hand first. “Of course, you can.” He’s half situated to go to sleep already, just has to take off his tie and loosen his shirt. He doesn’t get off the bed, and that’s why it surprises him when you lay down in the same bed, on your side.

“So you don’t have to share with Spencer when he gets here,” you explain through a yawn, and his heart hurts when he sees the way your nose crinkles. He’s missed it, missed you.

Sleep comes quickly, somehow. The exhaustion of the day, of the conversation, overtakes you both in what feels like mere moments.

-

When Aaron wakes up, it’s with his arms around you and his nose pressing into your neck. He holds on for a moment before he has to let go; you’ll have time later, and the team is waiting.

Getting out of bed, Aaron finds the other queen bed- Spencer’s- empty, untouched.

When the two of you arrive at the jet, late with your suitcase, he says, “I stayed with Morgan and Rossi. We thought you could use some privacy.”

You let go of Aaron’s hand to reach out and ruffle Spencer’s hair, ignoring the look he gives you when you mess up his curls. “Thanks, Spence.”

If the team is anything, it’s ‘respectful when the time calls for it’. No one says a word when you and Aaron sit next to each other. No one blinks when your hand slides home into his.

His fingers lace around yours. He squeezes once, and you squeeze back. As the jet takes off, soaring towards DC and your new future, you hold onto him. It’s going to be alright.

Once upon a time, they always said that you and Aaron were the lucky ones. Maybe they were right.

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[miela]

Shattered Memories • Chapter IX: The Thread of Silk and Gold • {Peter Parker x Stark!Reader}

Chapter Genre: FLUFFITY FLUFF Chapter Warnings: it's another long boi (cries in overachieving and overly self-critical writer) Extra: FELLOW SWIFTIES THIS ONE IS FOR YOU, Had to pull out my songwriting skills for this one-, another chapter I was so excited for EEEEEEEE- Word Count: 6.2k

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DIARY / Dream Log #67 / 05 JUN 2025

I think the hardest drug I ever took was all of Taylor Swift's discography. Because there is no way this boy in my dreams is real. He sounds like fragments of her songs and I swear being a swiftie is finally turning my brain cells delulu.

He's my midnight folklore lover (pun completely intended)

See he's not the breakup songs, no he's the love songs. He's fearless, state of grace, hey stephen, and many others all wrapped in a box of mystery with a bow on too that I can't untie or cut loose.

Of course, I made him up, why else can't I see his face? He's not real, right? He can't be. Something that good in my life doesn't exist. What do I deserve from this kind of love? All I do is hurt the ones I love, so of course he's not real. I'm just delusional. Delusional and lonely as hell.

But at the same time…then why does everything feel like a memory?

[END NOTE]

You decided that you would spend your day at the Avengers Tower penthouse. You don't think you could handle Sam, Bucky, and Dr. Cho teasing you for beaming like an idiot and trying to squeeze it out of you. And you couldn't explain to them how you didn't stay put like you were supposed to. You wondered what they would say if they knew that you kissed him…twice. God forbid Morgan knew too? You would never hear the end of it for at least three months. It was your day off so you didn’t have to worry about random calls since Nika agreed to leave you alone for a while as a way to make up for almost ruining your kiss with Peter. 

You could still feel his lips on yours like the ghost of him was left with you when your lips met. 

You felt different after the kiss. Good different. You felt lighter like a weight was lifted off of your shoulders and you weren’t sure if it was from the kiss itself or something else. You just knew you were really happy. 

You were looking at the timeline FRIDAY had made (and graciously made into the form of a spider web just to fuck with you) and sighed. You wish you could remember everything you were with Peter. It looked like it was lovely…what you guys had before. You wish you could make yourself remember but you couldn’t. 

But things started to feel more familiar than before and you couldn't really explain it. After the first kiss, it was like your body remembered him. Kissing him felt familiar but foreign in a good way. 

You knew Peter was the faceless boy in your dreams, with no doubt. Especially because he never denied it. You both would beat around the bush about confirming it with the fear of it hurting you even though you were the one to push for answers more than he was. Hell, you're the one who had to find him.

You eyed the timeline and took a deep breath. "FRIDAY, archive the timeline."

After that, you went to the music room where you kept all of your guitars. You were in the mood to play and sing your little happy heart out. You didn't have a lot of guitars but you did have a collection of them that you loved and cherished. You had the first one you ever got which was a regular wooden brown acoustic one that you practiced on all the time. It was filled with stickers on the back of it to give it personality. You still remember how painful your fingers would feel after four hours of practice every day. There was a black one that your dad got you after you mastered playing the first song that you were learning. It was your favorite one for a while until you got your red one. You remember being afraid of using it because you were worried that it would break in your hands. It was precious to you and you didn’t want to mess it up.

It was one of the ones Taylor Swift used on her Red tour. 

It was a gift from your beloved Spidey for your birthday. He used his Spidey status and sent Taylor a letter asking if she could wish you a happy birthday. He didn’t expect a response from her, but a week later she did. After a conversation between your favorite hero and your favorite singer, you were met with a beautifully written birthday letter with tickets to her concert and a Polaroid picture of her and her three cats, a video of her singing Happy Birthday, and two signed red guitars, one electric and the other acoustic. The red electric guitar was hung on the wall in your bedroom with the Polaroid framed next to it. The acoustic one took you a week to even use. You remember crying with happiness on and off for three hours when you got it. 

Apparently, without knowing, he had saved her once and she wanted to thank him in some way and he chose that to cash in.  

You smiled as you picked it up and looked at it for a long, loving moment before turning to grab your notebook. You walked down the stairs and into the living room, plopped down on the couch, and set the guitar next to you as you opened your notebook. You flipped through the pages and looked at the notes, lyrics, doodles, scratched-out, aggressively circled, and underlined words, and tear stains that filled the pages. 

The entire notebook was dedicated to him. The Faceless Boy. Peter Parker. 

You don’t know why you bound so much of your emotions about him along the white pages and you couldn’t tell if it was a way to clear your mind or if it was a way to heal. Maybe both. 

You decided that you were going to stop forcing yourself to remember him and just enjoy the time you’re spending with him and appreciate the new memories you’ll be making with him. One’s that hopefully won’t be erased from your mind this time. Will he ever tell you what even happened? Maybe not and you still hadn’t decided if you were okay with that, but in due time, hopefully, he will be honest with you. 

You landed on a page that you remember fresh in your mind because you had only written one thing on the page, and it was three weeks ago when you wrote it. 

A single thread ties me to you and yet not a single memory clicks. Are there clues I didn’t see?

It wasn’t the first time you wrote a poetic line in this notebook about the faceless boy, and it wasn’t the first time a poetic line became a fully fleshed-out song. And this moment of inspiration that you had didn’t make anything different. Maybe it was because you were still giddy from the night before. 

So you grabbed a pen, picked up your guitar, and began writing and strumming your little heart out. 

My sweet boy…

Those three words rang through Peter’s mind for the rest of the night until he fell asleep. And then he dreamt of all the times you called him that before. 

He knew you didn’t remember him, that was clear. But something happened when you guys kissed. He knew you felt it because he felt it, and he felt you feel it. On top of that, you didn’t feel any pain from it. And then when you called him my sweet boy…

He nearly lost his mind. 

So when Peter woke up, he felt determined. He made a decision that he should have made weeks ago. Really it should have been five years ago.

He was going to tell you everything. And nothing could and would stop him. 

So he got up and got into the shower. He spent an ungodly amount of time in there trying to figure out what he was going to say and how to react to any of the possible reactions you would have. After that, he got out and forced himself to eat something before grabbing his backpack and pulling out from under his bed the suitcase full of the things he took from your room instead of telling you everything right then and there. He had his reasons, but he was beginning to second-guess them. He opened the suitcase to check and make sure everything was in there. When that was done, he set the stuff he was taking with him on the bed. 

He put on his spider suit, the one you made for him all those years ago, and put his backpack over his shoulders. He made sure the suitcase was locked and secured so nothing would fall out. He thinks he would actually die if that happened. He picked it up and went to hurry out before he backtracked.

He glanced over at the silver spider necklace sitting on his end table.

He chewed his lip. He wants to give it to you so badly, but…he wanted it to be another special moment when he did give it back to you. 

So he left it there and hurried out of the apartment window. 

Once, he made it onto the roof of the building, he called you. But it went to voicemail. No doubt, you were taking a break from work today. So just to be sure he called your office number.

"Stark Industries," Nika chimed in a customer service voice.

"Hey, Nika. It's Peter,"

"Ah, Avenger Lover Boy,” Her voice went back to normal. “What can I do you for?"

He blushed under his mask at the nickname. "Is (Y/N) there today?"

"Yep, she's up in the penthouse-"

"Cool! I'll be there in like…fifteen minutes."

“Oh?” she asked with obvious cheekiness in her tone. “Making a grand gesture? You better be bringing flowers.”

“She doesn’t do bouquets,” Peter stated. “She prefers going to see the flowers in their natural state. Better for the environment in her eyes.”

Nika hummed in amusement. “You pay attention. Good. See you in a few.”

And with that, she hung up.

He swung from Queens to Manhattan as fast and as carefully as he could and even helped a few people along the way. When he arrived he walked straight into the Avenger’s building. He would’ve swung up to a window and climbed in, but he had no idea how security was and he didn’t wanna risk dropping anything from the highest building in New York City. Again, he thinks he would actually die if that happened. So he let his anxiety win and played it safe by going through the building like a normal person. 

 He hurried straight for the elevator and impatiently pressed the button as if that would make it come down faster. He tapped his foot on the ground in suspense and waved at different people who walked passed and greeted him. When the doors finally opened, he waited for the people to walk off before hurrying his way inside and aggressively clicking buttons again. 

Before the door could close, a hand stopped it from doing so.

Peter looked to see Nika step inside and give him a straight-faced nod as she pressed the button for the door to close. She glanced at him without saying anything and then scanned her eye. There was a long silence as the elevator went up and it honestly made Peter uncomfortable.

“You know,” Nika started. “You’re bold for wearing that suit today after that kiss from yesterday.”

Peter looked at her, his mask showing that his eyes widened.

“I’ll make sure the top floor is on lockdown from anyone else.”

“Nika…” Peter replied as his face burned under his mask when he realized what she was implying.

“Relax, I’m messing with you,” she smirked at him. “You’re so tense right now. Lighten up, dude.”

He took a deep breath and shook it out a little. He was extremely tense. He was about to tell you everything that you should’ve been told years ago. 

Once the elevator stopped, she spoke again.

"Good Luck, Peter Parker,” she smiled and walked off and gave him a salute. 

"Th-thank you," Peter replied and the elevator closed again and went up.

He took another nervous breath. “Alright, Peter, you got this. No backing down.”

When the doors opened he hurried in to find you, but he stopped when he heard the sound of a guitar coming from the conference room. He stopped in his tracks when he realized that it was you playing your guitar. He slowly walked over to the staircase walked up quietly and kept his distance.

He stopped when he saw you, dressed in a pair of black joggers, a black fitted sleeveless crop top, and a long black cardigan that was falling off one shoulder. You had your stark specs on and you wiggled your bare toes and you strummed the red guitar that he recognized all too well. You were facing the window and he could see your reflection through it but he was just out of view to where you couldn’t see his. He smiled under his mask. He missed watching you play. 

But the minute you started singing, his heart nearly stopped. 

Green was the color of the grass

Where I used to read at Centennial Park

I used to think I would meet somebody there

Peter remembered when you told him that there were days when you would go to this park and read a book. Sometimes you still went when you needed to clear your mind. Although you were proud to be a Stark, it was a bit of a heavy thing to have on your shoulders at such a young age. So to get away from everything, you would take a book, go to Centennial Park, and escape into worlds that were different from yours. He remembered how you told him that you always hoped to meet eyes with somebody there and fall in love with them.

That’s not exactly how it happened with the two of you, but you always said it was better than your little fantasy. 

Blue was the color of your shirt

When you were sixteen at the deli shop

You used to go when you had a little money

He recalled the first time you went to his place with Celina. You all had a project you were working on and he took you to Delmar’s deli shop to get some food. 

Time, curious time

Gave me no compasses, gave me no signs

Were there clues I didn't see?

And isn't it just so pretty to think

All along there was some

Invisible string

Tying you to me?

Peter realized the song was about your memories of him in your dreams. 

Bad was the blood of the vibes in the flight

On your trip to Germany

You ate at my favorite spot for dinner

Bold was the waitress on our three-day trip

Getting lunch in Saxony 

She said I looked like an American sweetheart

 

He remembered that day. The first time you guys met as Spiderheroes.

Time, mystical time

Cuttin' me open, then healin' me fine

Are there clues I didn't see?

And isn't it just so pretty to think

All along there was some

Invisible string

Tying you to me?

He leaned against the wall and listened to you continue to sing.

A string that pulled me

Out of all the wrong arms right into the right heart

Something wrapped all of my past mistakes in barbed wire

Chains around my demons, wool to brave the seasons

One web of silk and gold tied me to you

Peter smiled as he listened to your melodic and poetic words.

Cold was the steel of my axe to grind

For the ones who broke my heart

Now I live life in the present.

Gold is the color of the leaves

When I'll show you around Centennial Park

Hell, what a journey but it brought me heaven

He looked forward to when you took him to your safe place. Again.

Time, wondrous time

Gave me the blues and then purple-pink skies

And it's cool, darling, with me

And isn't it just so pretty to think

All along there was some

Invisible string

Tying you to me?

You finished the song, let out a breath of relief, and drummed your nails on the guitar gently before setting it down next to you and picking up your notebook. Then you paused and Peter knew why. You sensed him and your eyes widened as you whipped your head around to look for him.

Now’s your chance, he thought, taking off his mask and walking into view.

"Peter…!" You chimed as you set down your notebook and got off the table. “I didn’t know you were coming.”

Peter pressed his lips together. Here goes nothing. Actually, it’s everything. "(Y/N)...I have something to tell you."

"Okay…" you responded gingerly as you crossed your arms over yourself with your brows pulled together with a concerned look on your face. You must have sensed his nervousness.

Peter walked over to the table throwing his backpack down and setting the suitcase on the table. He quickly fiddled with the latches, forced them open, and then turned it towards you.  You looked at it to see a scrapbook, picture frames, polaroids, and other items that you recognized from…your dreams. Your eyes widened.

"Peter…?" You looked up at him wondrously.

"I know Ghost Stories is your favorite Coldplay album and Lover is your favorite Taylor Swift album.”

You looked at him confused. 

“I know you can't get a night of proper sleep unless you drink a cup of tea mixed with milk and honey and you need something to hold while sleeping, specifically, Starky, your wolf plush that you named after your family and the Starks from Game of Thrones. I know your favorite character from Game of Thrones is Lyanna Stark because of the quote 'You saw her beauty but not the iron underneath' from the books and that's the meaning of the blue roses on your tattoo. You also asked Steve to help you with the drawing years ago.”

Your expression turned to shock as you kept looking at him frozen.

“I know that you hate messy spaces and people handing you things because your dad was the same way. I know that you have to pet every cat you come across and that you like dark content and media because it reminds you of who and what you're fighting for and you fear being so out of touch with reality because you're extremely privileged.”

You blink rapidly as you process what is happening at the moment.

“I know that you love playing the guitar and you write songs. It's like your diary where you can properly express yourself because you wish your life was a musical because you're secretly a theater nerd. And you love Hamilton and Six. And Disney movies. And you love listening to the SMASH soundtrack. It’s one of the things you were shy about telling anyone about.”

You press your lips together as your expression softened and your eyes glossed over. 

“I know that you love movies and that you have a huge crush on Anakin Skywalker, which I always found concerning by the way. Like…everyone finds that concerning. Ned and I had a conversation about it yesterday. You also hate the recent Star Wars trilogy but you continue to hate-watch it with me because it's something that we did together and as long as we were together, you didn't care what we watched.”

You sniffled softly, listening to him go on.

“I know that you love cold weather because you love the feeling of it on your skin because it reminds you that you're alive and human. You love Edgar Allen Poe and Shakespeare because you love Shakespeare's humor and Poe's dark romanticism. And although you deeply despise magic you love a good fantasy novel. And your book boyfriends are Draco Malfoy and Aaron Warner. And I'm not getting any further into that because I should not be this jealous of fictional characters.”

You let out a choked laugh. 

“You have sensory sensitivity so you hate loud noises, bright lights, and feeling things on your hands. And it only worsened when you gained these spider powers that we share.”

You nodded softly and put a hand over your mouth to keep in your sob that was threatening to escape.

“(Y/N),” He walked up to you and gently cradled your face as his own eyes glossed over. “ We….we were in love....deeply and truly and I...fucked it all up and I still don't know if I regret it or not because you have grown into this amazing and beautiful person that I am still in love with....deeply and truly. And five years is a long time I know but...I wanted you to live your life without having to worry about me and be able to focus on yourself.”

He chewed on his bottom lip for a second like he was deciding on his next words carefully. 

“When your dad died ...I could tell that you would have been in a really dark place if I wasn't there to help distract you from it. And you know what? It was the same for me too. But we never really worked through it on our own. We became each other's distractions. And I wanted to come to you five years ago, but I made the impulsive decision to let you go so you could heal, grow, and explore life I know that's not a decision I should make for you and I'm so sorry, (Y/N/N), I'm so, so, so, so sorry-"

You couldn’t take it anymore and you grabbed his face and kissed him deeply and passionately before he could continue babbling. Peter froze a moment but then matched the energy of your kiss as his arms wrapped around your waist pulling you closer to him.

 The kiss was much more desperate but just as passionate as the day before. And there was no one here to interrupt you. It was just the two of you and your passion running wild for each other. 

Peter wouldn’t have it any other way. 

You pulled back for a moment and he chased the kiss instinctively not wanting to part just yet. He looked at you with hooded eyes and you both catching your breath because you both forgot that breathing during a kiss is essential.

 You smiled softly and leaned your forehead on his as said barely in a whisper. "You finally admit you’re the faceless boy,” you sniffled as you met his gaze. “Idiot. You could’ve told me sooner that you’re the guy in my dreams..."

“I’m sorry…” Peter blushed and gulped softly before asking, "Can I also be the guy in your reality?"

You giggled. “There you go flirting again.”

“And I’m still being serious,” he smirked softly.

You caught your bottom lip between your teeth as your smile grew. “About damn time you asked me.”

Peter smiled that charming smile you loved so much as he tasted your lips again and your senses continued to bloom within the both of you. 

You had so many questions and Peter was expecting that. He was honest and didn't hide anything from you when you asked.

He started by explaining everything that happened and why nobody could remember him. 

You repeated it back to him to clarify that you heard everything correctly.

"I'm not sure what pisses me off more, honestly."

"I think all of it pisses you off."

"You're right, it does. And you tried to get everyone to forget that you were Spiderman but you accidentally messed up Strange's spell and it caused a tear in the multiverse? And there were other Peter Parkers? And their villains were here? Wait, did you say Norman Osborn killed your Aunt May?!"

"Not our Norman Osborn," Peter explained. "Ours hasn't done anything yet. I've been keeping an eye on him."

You rubbed your temple and took a deep breath. "That's a lot to process. I think I hate magic again."

After that, he showed you all of the things in the suitcase. He started with the scrapbook that you both made together. It had a red cover and black pages that were filled with drawings, cute words, and pictures of the two of you.  The front of it read "Our Story."

There was a tic tac toe game page that read "You Won My Heart" where you both were bored one day and played a game of tic tac toe. You put hearts over each winning line and taped it nicely into the scrapbook. There was another page that read "Our Soundtrack" with different songs written under it. The page was filled with music-themed doodles. Some pages marked your firsts and different highlighting events and you took it all in as you flipped through the pages.

Peter was leaning his head on your shoulder as he also looked at each page. He has looked over this scrapbook on his loneliest days and he memorized it front to back. 

He half expected you to say something witty like "We're so cringe for this" or "This is so corny but I kinda love it" but you didn't. You were studying it with soft eyes as you ran your fingers over different parts of the pages and smiled softly. Sometimes you would ask a question about a certain page and Peter would answer.

You came across a page that read "Things I love about Peter" with a list. 

"Hmm let's see if this still stands," you teased. "One, pretty smile: true. Two, genius: also true. Three, Kind-hearted: very true. Four, Short King: also very true and adorable. Five, nerdy and geeky: love that. Six, hair: agreed." You skimmed down the rest of the list. "Wow, you're literally my type."

Peter smiled smugly. "I know."

You giggled in response. "Confidence is sexy on you." 

"I thought I was conceited?"

"It's different, you're my boyfriend now." 

His heart fluttered at that.

"I mean, I'm no Aaron Warner or anything." He teased.

You rolled your eyes playfully. 

"Let me explain something to you," you tapped his forehead. "What I like in fantasy and what I like IRL are two different things. In fantasy, I like the dark, brooding bad boys because they're written by women. They're meant to cater to my deep and dark desires personified into my fictionalized self.  In real life, I like guys like you. The sweet-hearted cuties from the start." You smiled at him as he looked at you. "So don't worry yourself over men who don't exist. Especially Anakin Skywalker. The actor was just cute and I have a thing for masks."

"Trust me, I know." 

You giggled softly and turned the page where it was a list called "Things I Love About (Y/N)". You paused and looked at it.

"Let's see if this still stands," Peter stated with a playful tone. "One, prettiest girl in the world: yep. Two, outspoken and not afraid to stand up to bullies: very true. Three, genius: also true. Four: hard exterior, soft interior: eh, you softened up. More approachable now. " 

You snorted in response.

"Five, geek, weeb: still true. Six, talented: extremely true. Shall I keep going?"

You giggled. "You're making my teeth hurt."

"You have phenomenal dental health, you'll live."

You threw your head back and laughed before looking at him. He was looking at you lovingly. You pressed your lips together and looked at the scrapbook shyly. 

"Thank you," you started. "For telling me everything." 

You felt his presence closer to you and looked back at him to see his face inches away from yours. You met his gaze before he leaned in to kiss you deeply and you responded by kissing back and closing your eyes. His hand softly landed on your cheek and he could feel the warmth of your face and the feeling of love and something else through his senses. you set the scrapbook off to the side and moved yourself to sit facing him as you both deepened the kiss.

He pulls back after a moment.

"Sorry," he said lowly. "I…I just had to make sure that this is real…that  you're real."

“I should be the one saying that,” you grinned. “I’ve been the one with dreams.”

“Touche.”

You giggled in response and kissed him again. 

You both spent most of the day in and watching movies as you cuddled on the couch. You lent him a pair of joggers and a Joy Division band tee shirt to wear instead of him walking around in his spider suit. You guys ordered pizza and tacos and then went back to watching whatever you guys felt like watching. Peter was lying back on the couch while you were lying on top of him with your head on his chest and your legs entangled together. His hand would stroke your back lightly every once in a while and it lulled you to sleep a couple of times. That, and the sound of his heartbeat in your ears.

"(Y/N)," Peter called to you softly.

Your eyes fluttered open and noticed that the movie you guys were watching had ended. You looked up sleepily at Peter who was smiling down at you. 

"Hm?" You hummed in question.

Cute, he thought. "I have to go patrol."

"Huh?" You asked and looked at the time. Five Thirty. "Jeez. I didn't realize…"

"It's okay," he kissed your forehead longingly for a moment and you closed your eyes at the feeling. "I can come back after."

You pout and then shove your face back into his firm chest. You didn't want him to leave. 

"No."

Peter chuckled and wrapped his arms around you. "Okay, princess, no more pouting."

He knew pet names like that are your weakness. He could feel the heat of your face on his chest and he smirked.

"Princess," he sang.

"Stop," you whined into his chest shyly while the heat on your face widened which caused Peter to laugh softly.

"You know," Peter started. "You could come with me. People miss you, y'know. Silk and Spidey, Spidey and Silk. I get asked about you a lot."

You sighed and slowly sat up to where you were sitting in his lap. He wrapped his arms around you instinctively as you leaned your head on his shoulder "I…don't do that anymore."

You knew that people wondered what happened to some of the Avengers, and you were one of them that people often wondered about, especially since Spiderman was still out there protecting the little guy. 

But one day you just stopped and people wondered what happened to the beloved spiderhero. 

"I meant to ask,” Peter started as he looked at you. “Why did you stop?"

You looked at Peter and chewed your lip nervously. Many reasons made you hang up the suit but there were some that really caused you to stop. And you really didn’t want to talk about it.

"Well, for one, I wanted to help Pepper raise Morgan. Two, I have to focus on the company. And Three," you closed your eyes as you thought of the chapter in your life that you never wanted to speak of ever again. "I…made some big mistakes. I…hurt people in…so many different ways and I just don't see myself as a hero anymore because of it. When I was needed most, I let everyone around me down.” You took another deep sigh. ”Not much of a hero thing to do."

Flashes of the past enter into your mind and Peter could feel the guilt, pain, and fear of your senses stirring within him. It was strong and he didn't like it. Something told him there was more to the story but he didn't want to pry. Instead, he kissed your forehead comfortingly.

"Sometimes even the greatest of heroes make the biggest of mistakes."

"I doubt that," you replied. “I kind of like…really fucked up.”

“The fact that you feel guilty about it shows that you aren’t a bad person,” he began. "Do you remember when you first got your powers and what the first thing you did was?"

You remember that day clearly like it happened yesterday.

"I saved a van full of women and girls from getting kidnapped." 

"Yeah,” Peter smiled. “ Still in your ballet outfit. Bright pink with your makeshift mouth mask that you quickly made out of your extra pair of leggings.”

You looked up at him. 

“It went viral on YouTube and TikTok,” he continued.  “You didn't hesitate a second." 

You looked at your hands and played with your fingers.

Peter kept going. "You said in your expo speech. With great power comes great responsibility. 

"My dad told me that when I was little," you replied with a small smile. “‘Where there is great power there is great responsibility, where there is less power there is less responsibility, and where there is no power there can, I think, be no responsibility’ said by Winston Churchill. And ‘the more privilege you have, the more opportunity you have. The more opportunity you have, the more responsibility you have said by Noam Chomsky,” You raised your hands and looked at your fingertips, where your webs come from. “He told me to focus on the line that resonated with me the most and it was ‘with great power comes great responsibility’ and I’ve tried to live my life by that ever since.” 

Ah, Pete thought as he ran a hand through his curls. “Aunt May told me that exact same thing moments before she died."

You looked at him vaguely remembering him telling you that once before. A vague memory flashed in your mind of you holding a crying Spiderman in your arms alongside Ned, MJ, and Celina in the pouring rain. The memory brought a frown to your face. 

"When you have this power and then the bad things happen, then it's on us. You knew that immediately. Whether it stemmed from a hero complex or whatever, doesn’t matter. You understood that you had a responsibility. I had to learn it the hard way. And it cost my Uncle Ben’s life."

You looked up at him sadly and a bit of shock in your expression. You felt the guilt and sadness flowing through him. 

He continued.

"You're a hero, (Y/N), even when you think you aren't good enough to be one,” he leaned his forehead on yours.  “And you'll always be a hero to me."

Your heart swelled at his words and you pressed your lips together. “You always know the right things to say.”

“And I mean every word.”

You smiled and pecked his lips softly and he pecked yours back before you removed yourself from his lap so he could get up. 

“Thank you,” you smiled. “I’ll be waiting here for you when you get back.”

He nodded in response. “Okay.”

He got up, got changed, and walked out onto the launched pad for when your dad would put on the Iron suit. You walked out with him as you wrapped your cardigan around your shoulders. 

He turned and looked back at you with his mask in his hands. His eyes glistened in the sunset as the wind danced through his curls softly. He smiled softly at you. 

“See you later?”

“Mhm,” you responded with a smirk.  “Actually show up on time this time, yeah? Because if I have to go looking for you again after another five years I’ll-”

“Kick my ass into another dimension?”

You squint your eyes at him suspiciously. “Yeah…”

“You told me that before,” He said with a chuckle. “Five years ago, Statue of Liberty, moments before…the memory blip, as you call it. But I kissed the words out of your mouth.”

You scoffed and crossed your arms over yourself. “Maybe I should act on it.”

“Maybe you should,” Peter teased and put his mask on. “You gotta catch me first.”

“You’re just trying to get me to patrol with you.”

“Maybe,” he sang. “Maybe not. You’ll have to get it out of me.”

“Goodbye, Peter Parker,” you laughed. “Go, before a bank gets robbed or something.”

“Wow, trying to get rid of me? A bit ago you were begging me not to go. I didn’t take you for the wishy-washy type but hey a lot can happen in five years.”

Your jaw dropped in total shock. “You know what-” You began to speed walk towards him with a playful smirk. “Come here, Smartass!”

He laughed as you chased him around the platform before he ran towards the edge and you stopped in front of him slightly out of breath. He lifted his mask to reveal the bottom half of his face and he kissed your cheek and your face burned once again like it had been doing all day.

“I’ll come back on time, I promise.”

“You better,” you smiled at him. “Now go be a hero.”

He smiled back at you. “And you continue being mine.”

Your face softened as your heart beamed and he turned and jumped off the platform and swung across the city.

~

Tags:

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[temptaetions]

boys like you 🌷 h.hj (m)

a/n: the photo above is from hyunjin’s marie claire shoot. i do not own the photo. that being said, this fic was originally posted by me on a different, now defunct blog, i own this fic. it was formerly titled “corre, amor.” i have since deleted it from that blog and am reposting a revised version on this blog. again, i wrote this fic and it is 100% my own. i also feel super self conscious about it. be nice plz.

synopsis: hwang hyunjin is like a burning fire - dangerous, passionate, and at times, hard to dissipate. you were frozen from within, your exterior only soft to his touch. when you are his polar opposite, it should be easy to melt at his fingertips, shouldn’t it?

genre: established relationship au | breakup au | x fem!reader | smut | angst | fluff

pairing(s): dancer!hwang hyunjin x poet!fem!reader | lee minho x han jisung

word count: 8.5k. lowercase intended.

rating: 18+. minors do not fucking interact.

warnings: swearing, one-sided pining, minimal romantic fluff, some angst, minimal smut [between h.hj x reader: some degradation, heavy petting, heavy make-out session, handjob/semi-oral, nipple play, cum eating / swapping.] hyunjin has body piercings (nipples and belly button.)

what to listen to: advice - taemin | do it for love - thama, george | play with fire - sam tinnesz, yacht money | know me - dpr live, dean | different - woodz

everyone was convinced that your relationship with hyunjin was one-sided. from the outside looking in, you could understand why. oftentimes, it was him scouring the university in search of you, and yes, he had a photo of you in his phone case and his car dashboard. the boy you’d come to adore was nearly six feet of pure love for you — he even dedicated his showcase stages to you, choosing only the most sensual of love songs to show the student body that he was a burning fire.

and yet, as much as you loved hwang hyunjin, you remained solid. unmelted was your icy form, and as the time went on, people had begun to notice. slipping away from crowds after his showcases and losing hyunjin in them became a regular thing, and the apartment was often empty because neither of you were ever really home. much like your eyes when you looked at him these days, what used to be the world to you now reflected a beautiful blonde man with the prettiest lips this side of the han river. you still loved him, you’d convinced yourself of such. the only question left was, was it in the way he did?

once upon a time, all your poems screamed his name. from long winded monologues to neat, tight haikus, your words were stringed together to recreate the man you woke up next to every day for the past three years. exasperated sighs during your poetry slams showed the way your feelings for this man ate you up inside and god, you just couldn’t believe you’d finally found a good guy. a man that was the healing of the past and the brightening of the future, the man who truly made your days enjoyable. 

“good morning,” hyunjin was stretching in the living room as you allowed your sleep-deprived body to practically float through the apartment. lack of sleep due to the endless thinking and stress over school made you a zombie — one who didn’t have much of a knack for social interaction. nonetheless, you returned the sarcastic greeting, seeing as it was two in the afternoon on a nice sunday. the coffee in the pot was cold as you poured it, and you scowled as you grabbed some ice cubes but you couldn’t complain. had you been up on time, it would’ve been hot, you can hear hyunjin now.

“mm, you look nice,” you murmur as you slide onto the couch, watching your boyfriend’s shirt ride up slightly on his waist, exposing the sliver of skin you ran your fingers down before bed. he simply chuckled at your comment, a faint blush dancing across his cheeks as he continued his hip warm ups. “you’ve got rehearsal tomorrow after class, right?” sipping your coffee quietly, you saw hyunjin nod softly as he laid down on his mat. “yeah, unfortunately. i have to rain check our dinner tomorrow night, m’sorry, doll.” he closes his eyes as he rests his arms on his torso, and you slip off the couch to run your fingers through his soft hair. admiring him, you stroke his cheek gently as he opens his eyes, placing his hand above yours.

“your big showcase is coming up. dinner can wait, i’m always by your side.” you assured him of things you weren’t so sure of yourself, but what he didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him. his eyes changed as you said that, but he nodded reluctantly as you placed a soft kiss on his forehead. “don’t practice too hard, my love. you know it worries me. i’ll be in the office if you need me.” 

“‘course, honey. don’t type your fingers off,” he’s muttering to himself, and he knows how much it bothers you but even the people who are supposedly perfect have bad days. a nice guy, really. “i heard that, pipsqueak.” you call back, placing your coffee cup on your desk, leaving the door slightly ajar to hear his recital music. as soon as you hear the first notes of the remix changbin made for him, minho and felix, you ease into your desk chair. closing your own eyes, you can see his movements in your mind from hours of watching them practice this routine, specifically two years ago when the dance team uploaded it to youtube. they planned on recreating it to see where it could take them, as a trio — seeing as the fluidity of the boys raked in millions of views, and thousands of dollars in donations to the school and the dance team.

none of which hit the creative writing and poetry department, but hey, the poetry slam videos didn’t do as well. to be fair, the poetry slam club didn’t do much to raise money but turned around to ask mommy and daddy — whereas, you worked for your fifty cents. unfortunately, your major had a huge influx of people who didn’t quite really appreciate the time and effort that it took to make your art — and a lot of them were actually there to please their parents, to say they went to college. as sad as it was, you realized your freshman year that you were surrounded by maybe a third of your class with an actual passion for writing, and even then, you would hear them mouth off about your classes being an easy a.

it sometimes made you wish to have picked a different field, at a different university. maybe even if you had pursued journalism like you had intended...maybe things would be different. you often notice your mind wandering off to these places, and you remind yourself you wouldn’t have met hyunjin. so, maybe things worked out in the end — even if you did watch your old friends travel out of the country on externship to major news companies and even land jobs before graduation. jobs you couldn’t pay to get, and so, you worked part-time at the italian restaurant down the street and hid from any possible peers that may come your way.

“y/n-ah, you promised me i’d score some free breadsticks if i brought you the coffee!” jisung was whining as you bagged up his order, missing the way you shot your coworker a knowing glance, chuckling to yourself. “yah! did your mother not teach you manners? i know what i said, now keep quiet while minho gets them.” you give him a pointed look, and he scowls as you take the warm bread bag and slip it into his knapsack. “love you, bud. take it easy, i know that ankle is killing you.” you pat his shoulder, and he smiles inwardly as he takes the bag shyly, whirling out of the shop with a soft call of goodbye.

“how’s hyunjin?” minho inquires, pouring some olive oil into his calzone dough mix. you watch as he turns the mixer on, leaning your cheek on the heel of your hand. you gave your friend a sad look, and he sighed as he took in the atmosphere. “i take it you’re feeling detached?”

“and i hate it. hyunjin is literally my best friend, he is the absolute love of my life! i don’t know what’s going on anymore.” you bury your face in your hands, letting out a groan of frustration. only minho knew of your inner turmoil, and that was because you knew he’d understand. he too, was in the same situation. the only difference was that he could give you a hyunjin perspective — because it was jisung that felt the way you did. but if you told jisung, there was a small possibility he would spill the beans — not on purpose, but it would happen eventually. minho was like a steel safe enclosed in another one that was bolted into the ground.

“you need to talk to him before he starts prying. why do you think jisung left without a word to me?” he’s kneading the dough angrily, and you wince at every harsh smack that lands. “do you think i enjoy coming home to an empty bed, while jisung is out late with chan-hyung and changbin? do you think i like opening my hulu account to see he’s watched seven episodes of how i met your mother without me? this is fucking ridiculous,” he was now rolling out the dough, the warm container of fresh marinara sauce nearly being spilt with the vigor in which the table was shaking.

“you seriously need to talk to him, babe.” you turn as the doorbell dings, and you’re met by the prettiest soul this side of the han river — hyunjin. feeling a small smile slip onto your face, you return to the register to see him smiling back at you. “why hello, how may i help you?” 

“hello, miss. i’m looking for a certain y/n, i’ve come to whisk her away for supper.” he’s holding a brown bag, and you just know there’s a steamy bowl of soft tofu stew waiting to be devoured. “i adore you, hwang hyunjin.” you skirt around the counter to kiss his lips softly, hands resting on his cheeks as one of his own comes to your waist, the tips of his fingers settling in your back pocket.

“minnie, i’ll be back in thirty!” you call out, and the boy waves you off with a chuckle. despite the obvious problems that you were skirting around, minho knew that you would always adore hyunjin, boyfriend or not.

physical attraction was also not an issue — he was gorgeous, but you hated reducing him to that, and anyone who did was immediately on your hit-list. hyunjin had talent, skill, and one of the kindest hearts you’d ever had the pleasure of meeting. hyunjin was what you could call an all-rounder — he was efficient in every area of his life, including his relationship. which made you realize that perhaps, it was your lack of experience in relationships, in being treated nicely.

“i love those jeans on you,” hyunjin says as you walk hand-in-hands towards the back parking lot. “you say that because you bought them for me, even after i said i didn’t need them.” you roll your eyes as hyunjin lets go of your hand, instead using it to open the backseat door for you. this was routine, on days that hyunjin didn’t have late practices or managed to leave early — he would buy something you both loved, drive to your workplace, steal you from minho for a bit to grub, and then wait at home for you until you called to be picked up. sometimes you even drove minho home. however, hyunjin’s hand on your knee as he slid in after you, gave you a warm sensation throughout your chest.

you sighed contentedly, letting hyunjin get everything out of the bag. you began slipping your white jumper off, seeing as if any of the stew got on it, you’d regret blowing fifty dollars on it. you soon realized that the jumper was exactly why hyunjin offered to manage your finances. “spoon, napkin,” he was handing you things and you quietly took them, waiting as he began to lower the cup holder to place the stew between you.

“hyunjin, do you remember our first date?” you looked at the sun, hanging low in the sky as the nighttime approached. you had been sitting in this very backseat, your hands tangled in his hair as he showed you a song he loved at the time — and continued to, to this day it blasted through your speakers at home. it’d sort of become your song — but you shared many things with him that night. “you mean how you kissed me after you had texted me earlier that day that there would be no kissing? not saying i didn’t enjoy it,” he snorts as you whack his arm lightly.

“yah, it was a moment of weakness. the timing was perfect, you were perfect.” you lean against the door, leg propped up on the seat as your fingertips tracing the spoon in your hand. you feel a bit of emotion hit your eyes, but hyunjin softly pats your leg. “hwang hyunjin, how did i manage to find a man like you?”

“you didn’t, there’s nothing all that special about me,” you’ve both seemed to forget about the early supper as hyunjin lifts the cup holder up, and scoots closer to you, resting your legs atop his thighs. drumming his fingers along your shins, he smiled at the fond memory of the date. “if anything, i think it was a moment of rose-colored glasses. all i did was slide you a book from the top shelf.” it was true, you’d met hyunjin at the campus library. granted, it was your first time in there, and hyunjin had been a bit of an overachiever his first year — so he was in the right place at the right time as you groaned about the library stacking ten shelves high.

“i still can’t believe we had sex in that bathroom,” you shudder playfully, letting out a laugh as hyunjin gasped. “you suggested it! i just granted your wish!” laughing harder, you notice hyunjin admiring you softly. “yah, you’re making me shy.” 

“you’re beautiful,” his thumb caresses your cheek, and you glance at his lips before he slowly closes in. the softness of them, something you often envied, had always been enough to make you feel hot. the technique, his hand placement as he kissed you sweetly, always made you feel giddy. hyunjin was like a really good amusement park — you wanted to go on all the rides. without breaking the kiss, you adjusted yourself to sit on his lap, relishing the way his hands snaked to your belt loops to pull you closer. his tongue expertly slides into your mouth, a small gasp escaping your lips as his thumbs rub circles over your covered breasts, the flimsy tank top hiding your sensitive nipples but heightening the sensation.

subconsciously pushing your chest into him, your own hands struggle to find home as you slide them beneath his own shirt, feeling his softly chiseled muscles under your fingertips. the soft whine that emits from his lips as you brush his nipple accidentally, a gentle reminder of the small metal bar that he pierced in on a drunken night. if there was anything you and hyunjin shared, it was sensitivity.

his hands immediately pulled down the straps of your shirt, the material sliding off your breasts as he broke the kiss — lips dragging all over your chest, nipping and biting in all places. “wait, wait. take this off,” you pulled on his own shirt, and he obliged almost furiously, tugging his cardigan and shirt off in one go — pierced nipples and belly button on display. god, he was fucking gorgeous.

“mm, i like these.” your voice was low as you gently stroked them, adoring the soft rutting of hyunjin’s hips against your own. “be nice to me tonight, baby. i’m sore from practice.” he tucks a strand of his hair behind his ear, and you look at his swollen lips. a shy blush coats his cheeks as he looks away, your hand grabbing for his jaw to make him look at you, your eyes boring into his own. “fuck, you’re beautiful. you’ve always been so beautiful.” he whines, his hand at the nape of your neck and pulling you in for another kiss, rougher this time. his free hand circles around your waist, holding you in place as your lips connect again, but briefly because you begin to kiss down his jaw, stopping to nibble at his earlobe. adding to the sensation, you grind your hips down, and you take a small nip near his jugular, a whine of your name leaving his mouth.

“you sound so pretty, so, so pretty baby. do it again.” you suck on the skin softly, and with your hands pressed against his chest, he allows another murmured whine to ring in your ears, his skin hot to the touch. “fuck, y/n.” 

you find yourself tracing his stomach and waist, trailing kisses down his chest — and a welcomed sensation to him when you teasingly flicked your tongue on his hardened nipple. his hips bucked up and you chuckled, his fingers carding through his hair as you swirl your tongue around his nipple, heart beating against his chest insanely fast. “your heart is beating so fast.” whispering, you place a chaste kiss right above it, before trailing down slowly, maneuvering your back and legs to kneel before him, carefully so you’d fit nicely. hyunjin looked at you as you did so, following your every move with glassy eyes.

“take off your pants.” slightly hoarse, but he slipped his hands under the band of his sweats, shoving them down as you’d instructed. you watched like a hawk, the way his thigh muscles flexed deliciously as he shoved them down carefully. springing free, his cock was beautiful — not too thick, maybe two inches above average, leaking precum any time he let you get your hands on him. glancing up at him, you notice the soft love bites blooming across his chest and neck, smiling to yourself as you hover above his cock. running your forefinger along the underside, you relished in the power as hyunjin shivered under your touch. leaning down slightly, you give his tip a kitten lick, gathering a bit of his precum on your tongue — and you rest your hands on his thighs to hoist yourself up towards his lips.

taking your tongue in first, hyunjin kisses you slowly, allowing the taste of himself to marinate in your mouths. you gently drag your nails on his inner thighs, noticing the goosebumps trail along your boyfriend’s skin before you grab his shaft snugly. a surprised gasp disconnects your lips, and you take the opportunity to spit directly on his swollen tip, taking it into your mouth shallowly as you softly spread your saliva with his precum. all is calm as you begin sucking towards the underside of his tip, your tongue running along the thick vein of his length.

practically drooling a river, you push yourself to sink down a bit more, allowing his tip to barely brush the back of your throat — his dull nails are digging into your shoulder as you swallow around him, the pace of your movements excruciatingly slow as you pull off with a pop. a string of spit connected you to him as you pulled away, your lips swollen lightly as you took hold of his thigh, pumping his erection in one hand, kissing his lips chastely as you whispered sweet nothings. “i want you, so bad, baby.” he whines against your lips, and you almost feel bad as you sadistically smirk. “you always do, don’t you?”

you can feel his thigh quivering as he tries to hold back, but the overwhelming feeling of your lips dragging over his upper body and the tight, rhythmic stroking of his cock in your hand was all too much. you can tell because he’s beginning to look away, his eyes fluttering as you continue to murmur filthy words in his ear, his hips swiveling in light circles into your hand. “does the little slut want to cum?” and without warning, hyunjin was orgasming, his cum shooting out in warm spurts all over your chest. his eyes screwed shut as he trembled under your touch, and you simply smiled as he exhaled a breath you were sure he wasn’t aware he was holding in.

“found a new word for you, baby. you did so well for me, my love.” you laugh softly as you begin to wipe your breasts off with your finger, not noticing the way hyunjin’s tired eyes still held a bit of lust in them. taking hold of your hips, hyunjin pulled you up into his lap once more, leveling your chest with his mouth. he slowly dragged his lips over every open part, collecting his cum as he swirled his tongue over your breasts, nipping softly. appalled, you watched him through hooded eyes, an absentminded hand tangled in his hair leading him to your nipples every now and again. “kiss me, baby.”

his hand quickly finds home on your jaw, guiding the slippery kiss full of passion..when you hear a knock on the window. the sudden sound causes you to hit your head on the roof of the car, in turn making you bite down on hyunjin’s lower lip. not that he cared, it was hot.

“what the fuck!” hyunjin throws his shirt over you before tucking himself back into his sweatpants, and you panic-wipe your face and his, realizing just how foggy the windows had gotten. he takes a shaky breath before rolling down the window, only to see minho standing there with his arms crossed. “y/n-ah, you said thirty minutes.” he’s not happy, but hey, it could’ve been worse. you sigh in relief, dropping hyunjin’s shirt, not caring that minho has now seen your boobs as you tug your straps back up. hyunjin’s stomach felt like it fell out of his ass, but minho grimaces as he watches his younger friend wipe his face once more. “in the parking lot? really?”

“listen, sometimes you gotta make do.” you smile, kissing your boyfriend’s cheek apologetically. “i’ll see you at home, baby. promise.” kissing his lips gently one more time, you wave to him as he tries to catch his breath. slipping away with minho, you try to hide the sweat on your face from riling yourself up in a hot ass car just to get your boyfriend off.

“i expected more from you, y/n. you were gone for forty minutes,” minho scoffs as he wipes a tissue across your chest, and you feel your face heat something awful when you realize you still had some of hyunjin’s residue on you. how embarrassing. nonetheless, you scowl at your friend. “that’s barely ten minutes over!” you want to be mad at minho, but your mind can only drift to hyunjin as your empty stomach growls for the last twenty minutes of your shift.

“yah, hyunjin-ah. i’m home!” you call out as you slide your backpack off, noticing his favorite boots abandoned by the door.  minho had walked you home, so you figured there was no use in calling him anyway. rolling your eyes, you pick them up to place on the somewhat empty rack (it was usually full of shoes stacked upon each other), and it is only then you hear the lo-fi beats coming from your bedroom that you realize he may have fallen asleep. smiling to yourself, you tiptoe into the kitchen, finding the soft tofu stew in the microwave and you grant yourself permission to heat it up while you get ready for bed. popping the lid off, you slide it back in and quietly walk towards your bedroom, seeing your boyfriend bundled in the duvet like a burrito. his eyes were shut, lips parted softly and he was beautiful.

leaning against the doorframe, you admire him quietly, his light breathing drowned out by the music coming from your television. you take in the purple-tinted atmosphere, ignoring the backpack and duffle bag hidden in the corner of the room.

“stop staring at me,” you hear him mumble, and you let out a laugh. “i thought hwang hyunjin was sleeping, sorry hwang hyunjin.” you chuckle, moving to turn on the desk lamp to remove your makeup. he grunts in response, before sitting up and leaning back onto the bed frame. “yah, y/n. i need my beauty rest.”

“yeah? do you? you also need to study, you’ve got a fat ass final coming up in that anthropology class.” you tap your shared calendar, and sure enough, he had a test in two weeks. “honey, i deserve a break.” he groans, and you simply shake your head as you wipe off your lipstick, that had somehow managed to stay intact during your...earlier endeavors.

“yeah, baby. you do.” you smile at him through the mirror, noticing the way he seemed a bit...drained. “ah, i don’t like it when you look like that, hyunnie. what’s nagging you?” you say, slipping off your jumper and tank top, rustling in his drawer for a shirt, which felt surprisingly less full. his silence makes you rush, grabbing a random shirt you were sure belonged to changbin at some point but you shoved your head in anyway.

“i just...i’m feeling a bit cold.” he says quietly, and you freeze. “cold...cold meaning sick, cold meaning temperature, cold meaning—”

“you feel far away, y/n. i feel cold.” he reluctantly turns to face you, his hands in his lap. frowning, you tug off your jeans, grabbing a pair of his shorts to slide on. “baby, i—”

“no, y/n. don’t ‘baby’ me, you always do this. anytime i want to be closer to you and i want to show you off the world, you hide from me. every time i want to go do cliché couple things, like matching sweaters or something, you brush me off. am i a joke, y/n? is this funny to you? do you get off on being cruel to someone who loves you more than anything?”

the outburst is unexpected. you feel your chest heat with embarrassment, and you back away from the bedside where you had been standing. you feel your eyes well up with tears but you know there is no excuse for the way you’d been acting, and that he wasn’t wrong — and you couldn’t brush it off this time. looking down, you fiddle with your rings as you let his words sink in.

“i’m sorry, hyunjin. i wasn’t aware you felt this way,” you feel a lump in your throat and you wonder why — maybe after so long of hoping he would mess up in order to break up, you realized you didn’t want that. you look at him through blurred vision, the purple love bites you left now fully bloomed and an eyesore. “i know you weren’t, y/n. you never ask me how i’m feeling any more, much less have you ever. i understand we get caught up in our lives and i know that all this ‘other half’ stuff is bullshit, but you would make time for me, y/n. you were melting, and now you’re just back in the freezer.” he sighed, throwing the comforter off his legs and standing before you. wiping tears off your cheeks, hyunjin pulls you into a tight hug.

“i just want to know what i’m doing wrong.” and you break. “you’re not doing anything wrong, hyunjin. it’s me, it’s always been me. i’m just this broken piece of ice that’s been floating over the ocean for decades, hoping someday the sun will melt me down and i’ll become one with the water. i’m tired of not being able to give you the benefit of the doubt and realize that you won’t hurt me like everyone else has. it’s been three damn years, hyunjin. what am i doing wrong?”

“maybe you’re not ready for a relationship, y/n.” his voice is calm as he strokes your back, and you feel your heart start racing at the thought of losing him. regardless of what you’d thought before, the panic of being alone has now set in and you can’t imagine your life without him — and that in itself is a toxic mentality. you were not incomplete before you met hyunjin, and you would be fine if and when he ever decided to step out of your life.

“no, no. i am, i am ready. that’s why i’m here, i swear i’ll fix it—” your panicked hands stroked hyunjin’s face shakily, and you noticed tears in his eyes as he grabbed your wrists, cupping your hands in his own as he stood. “y/n, you’re not ready. for the past three years, i’ve felt alone in this apartment, no matter how many times you walked through that door. i felt you try to warm up, i felt your effort but slowly, you just kept pushing me back. ice is meant to melt at some point, my love. maybe you are something far more solid.”

and that is when you notice that he is fully dressed. his jewelry is still in, and he’s in a different jumper and sweatpants. his feet are covered with the cactus socks you snagged at target for him, and you suddenly feel your stomach do a backflip. suddenly, the less-crowded shoe rack, the organized drawer, the bags in the corner...they make sense.

“are you...are you leaving me?” your trepidation is clawing at your throat, and you can feel your nails digging into your palms. “no, y/n. you’re leaving me.” hyunjin wipes a tear from his face, holding one of your poetry books in his hand. he must have hid it under the blankets, and he hands it to you, opening it to a bookmarked page. you now see your world crumbling before you. furrowing your brows, you close it, your hand going limp as you stare at his socks.

“you read my work.” you let the book slip onto the floor, landing on the carpet with a soft thud. “it’s the only way i’ve even made it this far, y/n.” you feel betrayal rip through you, and you hate that the only thing you ever asked him not to do had been done. you didn’t care about hiding anything besides this flimsy book of poems that you hid beneath your bed every single time you wrote something new.

“get out.” you mumble, and hyunjin opens his mouth, only to press it in a tight line. he grabs his bags quickly, and you’ve seen now that he even cleared his own cosmetics off your vanity. you would miss dolling him up for his showcases. “i’ll see you at my showcase. i hope you’re still coming.” he said quietly, before padding silently into the living room, and eventually, you heard the jingle of his keys and the slam of the front door. hearing the lock turn, you felt the tears roll down your face uncontrollably.

and slowly, but surely, you’ve fallen asleep with your face buried in hyunjin’s pillow, the soft tofu stew long forgotten.

things had always been so neutral with hyunjin. he didn’t like fighting but he was petty as hell, so that canceled out. he didn’t like cooking but he was great at it, which also canceled out. he didn’t particularly care for shower sex, but when you did indulge, it almost made you angry how well it went down.

sex with hyunjin was quite the opposite of neutral — it was filthy, wet, slippery even. it was hot and heated and you loved every moment of whatever was happening — whether he had been pounding you into your mattress, or his face was buried between your thighs, everything was euphoric. and what made you furious was that whilst you had let yourself wallow in your sudden heartbreak, you didn’t realize that you craved the skinship you shoved away.

you missed waking up to his hand literally dangling in your face, his leg thrown over your hip, or his cold ass feet tucked onto the back of your thighs. you missed holding someone’s hand as you walked around campus, being kissed goodbye as he dropped you off for class while he was headed to practice. you hated seeing hyunjin across campus and not being able to call out his name and hand him the milk tea that you’d mistakenly bought for him ten minutes ago, having completely forgotten that you were broken up.

so you felt like an idiot holding two medium wintermelon milk teas as your ex-boyfriend walked closer with his entourage. you looked at minho, and as if sensing your eyes, he glanced up. meeting your gaze, minho’s jaw dropped as you trashed the drink, tossing it in the nearest garbage can — an action not missed by felix and hyunjin. “hey, y/n.” minho tried, and you glared at him as you walked past, nearly slamming into changbin and jeongin as you did so.

you ignored the ache in your throat, your eyes scanning the campus for chan. you had set to meet with him to study for your statistics final, and had been running late by getting boba. only then you realize you could have given him the extra drink, but you shook it off as you see his built form appear a few feet in front of you, his thick legs cozied in warm sweatpants that read 3RACHA down his thigh. “channie! wait up!”

he halts, looking up from his phone to look around. “ah, y/n!! how are you?” turning, he gives u a soft fist bump as you both begin the walk to the library. your hand took his elbow, and he was puzzled as you rushed him down the path. “are you okay? you seem off. did something happen with hyunjin?”

you were inside the library now, and you feel your stomach churn at the sound of his name, simply swiping your student card to get into the study room. you set down your backpack, toying with the zipper before you begin trying to form the words necessary. you tried to hold it in, but you couldn’t help and let a few tears slip out of your eyes as your lips quivered. “we broke up.”

followed by silence, chan seemed to understand as he stood, enveloping your limp form in a hug as you broke down for the third time that week. trying to hide your emotions from your friends was always easy, but you’d never felt defeat like this. you’d never allowed someone to see your heart and learn its ways, so knowing now that you had seen hyunjin’s and ignored it simply showed that you had taken him for granted.

“haven’t you got any faith in yourself, y/n?” he mumbles as he wipes your cheeks with his sleeve, taking hold of both your hands. “being single is the least of your worries, girl. let’s just cool off a bit and focus on this dumbass final that we’ve got to ace tomorrow.” chan began writing up practice equations that your professor had assigned earlier that week, and though you wiped your tears and whipped out your calculator — you regretted renting the study room across the very library you met hyunjin in.

the boys had wound up dragging you out of the apartment on the night of hyunjin’s showcase, making the coping process much harder and the carpool was just a bit more suffocating as you turned into an unfamiliar neighborhood to pick up the soloist for the night, hwang hyunjin. you looked at the houses on the street as chan cruised forward, only to stop in front of an old townhouse with a nice vegetable garden. you quietly looked out the window to see your ex-boyfriend kissing and older woman’s cheek goodbye.

“hey, scoot.” he opened the door and you reluctantly scooted over, realizing now why the boys asked if you wanted the passenger seat. hyunjin’s freshly dyed black hair would definitely be a show-stopper, and paired with the dance he’d prepared, you knew he’d steal some hearts. “nice hair.” you mutter, and you feel hyunjin sigh softly, pulling out his phone.

a minute later, you feel your phone vibrate in your clutch. a small lump in your throat forms as you see you’ve forgotten to change his contact name.

[4:54PM] baby ♥︎🩰: would you be willing to do my makeup for the showcase..?

glancing up, you grimace as you see hyunjin staring out the window with flaming red cheeks. scowling, you type back a short ‘yes’ and stare at the bouquet in your lap for the rest of the drive.

backstage was crawling with dancers and makeup artists, but hyunjin had managed to convince the stage manager to get him and the boys off in a green room in the concert hall. seeing as the stage manager apparently owed hyunjin for some favor years ago, he’d snuck hyunjin the key as you strolled quietly backstage with the boys. minho and felix just needed to get dressed, they would be waiting in the audience for their turn on stage for the group performances. you feel set up, somehow.

you waited quietly on the sofa, scrolling mindlessly through twitter as you let the boys rustle around getting into their outfits. seeing as hyunjin had a solo and a group dance, his bag was twice as heavy. “okay, i’m heading out. we’ll be up third.” minho was buttoning his shirt as he started walking out, felix trailing behind him as he smoothed on some chapstick. the room felt thick with tension, yet you pushed past it to set up hyunjin’s makeup on the vanity table, your fingers dusted with eye glitter.

“these are for you,” you set the bouquet down on the vanity as you allow him to finish getting dressed. a bouquet of mixed flowers, bold and colorful — daisies, cornflowers, honeysuckles, red tulips and carnations. an eyesore that you adored. you knew you wouldn’t be around after the performance, so you simply slipped your note into the bouquet when he silently clipped in his jewelry.

best of luck, my love. forever yours, y/n <3

“why are you being so quiet?” hyunjin asked as he came up behind you, buttoning his shirt quickly. “yah, i’m not being quiet. i feel awkward, i want to get this done and over with, hyunjin.” you say, moving out of the way so he can sit down, and you sweep his hair off his face, ignoring the temptation to kiss his forehead like you usually would. you know, for someone who had had a hard time melting to form into what hyunjin ‘needed’, you sure had no trouble being what hyunjin craved. he hadn't realized that until his first actual night without you.

he was freezing.

“be gentle with me.” he said as you patted moisturizer under his eyes, listening out for the start of the first performance. “i always am.” you whisper, not allowing the tears building up to escape as you blink them back. hyunjin’s gaze on your face was intensely intimidating as you carefully blended a muted terracotta shade on his eyelid, and you think you imagine the pout on his lips until you go back in with a brown pencil liner. “yah, hwang hyunjin! why are you pouting?”

he looks down at his hands, toying with the loose strands on the holes of his jeans. you frown, dusting on an easy amount of blush before grabbing his lip tint. your hand grasps his jaw, his eyes widening as you do so.

“you’ve gotten so mean,” he mutters as he puckers his lips, and you feel a smile sneak onto your face as you dab the tint on lightly. “you’ve always liked it.” you almost kiss him, out of routine, but the cold air in the room reminds you of what can no longer be. a sad feeling washes over you as you spray his face lightly with a setting spray, and wave your hands around him to dry it.

“you’re going to do great out there, hyunjin. i know it.” holding his arms, you rub them gently one last time before hearing the second song start for the next group, starting your brisk walk out of the room. “wait.” stopping in place, you don’t turn as you hear his feet patter behind you, and you feel his presence on your back as his hand takes hold of your wrist. slowly, he turns you around and your eyes are closed, not wanting to know what the next two minutes may hold. you don’t realize you’re backing up against the door until you’ve hit it, and your eyes open to see his face ghosting over yours. his breathing is shaky, and you can’t help but feel tears fill your eyes as you brush your lips against his.

kissing you back softly, his hand finds home on your waist — and you feel a tear roll down as you wrap your arms around his neck. your lips are burning his skin but he relishes in the warmth he’d been missing for the past two weeks. your skin is hot to the touch and he realizes…

maybe it was him that needed melting.

“good luck, hyunjin. you’re gonna be fine.” you sniff as you push him away, exiting the green room as quickly as you could, hearing the second song coming to an end. you’re sprinting towards the auditorium at this point, nearly crashing into minho as he and felix are rushing towards backstage to set up in the thirty seconds they have. “first row, fourth seat!” felix yells as you open the auditorium door, and you nearly bust a lung trying to catch your breath while sliding into the seat next to jisung.

“hey, sungie.” you take a deep breath and han jisung simply shakes his head — his hand taking hold of yours as the curtain rises with the boys in position. of course, hyunjin is front and center as the spotlight catches him directly, his hands crossed across his face in a gesture you’d memorized from his practices. the music begins, and once more you’re drawn in by the fluid movements of his body, the body control he carried on himself was something many dancers would die for. suddenly, it’s like there’s no one else in the room but you and him. you’re locked on his swiveling hips, the flow of his arms as he melted into the music.

and you fall in love all over again.

“our last soloist for the night has been well anticipated in many ways. the star of the show, the one and only man of the hour — let’s hear it for our very own hwang hyunjin!” the announcer is far too excited in your opinion, and you roll your eyes as the entire auditorium goes up in screams, joining them in their clapping. the crowd dies down as the curtain rises, and you hold your breath as hyunjin steps into view, a piece of white ribbon in between his teeth as he looks into a gold-framed mirror. he ties his hair back carefully as he stares into the mirror, and as the beat drops in, your jaw locks. his hand wraps around his neck lightly, before looking back with a finger in his mouth.

he rips off the veil-like cape and before you know it, he’s on the ground and you understand now why the entire crowd is entranced as his knees alternate, the way his hand covers his joker-like grin and the way he’s sliding around the floor is simply delicious. fan service, you think reluctantly as you hear a group of individuals screaming in a lust-filled pitch.

the silver details make him glimmer as he releases all his emotions on the stage, and you feel your thighs clench as you catch a glimpse of the belly piercing you adored. your nails are digging into your palm as you realize how high the shirt has come undone, and it is only now that you recognize the song playing in your ears as hyunjin’s performance comes to an end with his hand around his neck once more, the lights dimming as the last line rings in your mind.

i’ve always liked to play with fire.

you feel your heart stop in your chest as hyunjin throws the rose he’d held in his mouth in your general direction, and the crowd screams once more as he leaves the stage, pulling the ribbon out of his hair as he exited. you ignore all the screams as you feel the urge to get up and leave the premises like you have every single time hyunjin had a showcase. you want to push your way out the doors and run home to a pillow that doesn’t smell like him anymore but you pretend it does in hopes of some sort of manifestation that he’d show up in your dreams again.

you can’t help but slip your heels off and bolt for the exit as the dancers come back on stage for their final bow. you see hyunjin in your peripheral view and like always, you ignore it. you ignore the beet red blush on his face as people throw flowers at him and scream his name, and you ignore the way he pushes through the crowd to find you in the parking lot. you ignore the cold on your back as you manage to hail a taxi and slip in, giving the driver your address in a hurried sob as you see hyunjin exit the building behind you. you ask her to step on it as you feel the lump in your throat grow, and she gives you a pitiful look as she steps on the gas. you feel bad. you always do when you run away from what is best for you.

“trouble in paradise, honey?” she asks quietly, and you nod as your phone vibrates repeatedly, surely spam calls from the boys. “he loves me far more than i could have imagined. it is sad that i am simply not enough for him in my own eyes.”

“oh my, dear. you will always be enough. look at you, you’re young! you’re full of life even when you look like you’re having a rough time, you look like what i wish i looked like twenty years ago! you’re the it girl, baby. cherish it.” she sighs as she stops in front of your apartment, and you dig through your clutch for some cash. “don’t worry. this one’s on me, but i think you could make it work.” she looks into your eyes and you feel your soul ache as you nod.

“i will, auntie. thank you.” you exit her cab, scurrying up the stairs to your apartment quietly. you feel winded as you unlock your door, and you throw your heels onto the empty rack. you wander mindlessly about your apartment, standing in front of what once held photos upon photos of you, hyunjin and all your friends. memories that were once stuck to the wall were now stacked up on the dining room table, and you sighed as your fingers touched the thumbtack holes.

“in this maze of memories, where did i lose you?” you whisper to yourself, sighing as you trail towards your bedroom, plopping face first onto your bed, ignoring the sudden whiff of hyunjin’s scent coming off your pillow. “how cruel it is to live in a world where you’re not even in my photo albums anymore.”

hyunjin had started to distance himself more, and last you’d heard, he was offered to study a year abroad in france with minho and felix. good for him, i wish him well, you’d told jisung when he shared the good news. minho and jisung managed to work it out, with jisung having been offered a year abroad as well for music production with the dance team, they realized it was time to figure out who they were to each other. you find out the person hyunjin kissed a few months back before the showcase was his grandmother — she’d recently moved into that old townhouse.

you couldn’t really swallow down the pill that hyunjin wasn’t yours anymore, but the universe didn’t give you much of a choice as it kept turning. you’d lost your passion for poetry, and the dream to be a huge name in journalism in the months after. you’d given your poems to be displayed in the creative writing hall at your university, and you realized that nothing you wrote was ever about anything besides hyunjin. everything was connected back to him, and it seemed the world knew that as you dropped your major entirely, and when your advisor questioned what you would be changing it to, you simply shrugged and told her you didn’t know. i want to see the world, you said. university is tying me down.

seeing as you had officially finished the year, you had no loose strands to burn besides packing up and moving out of your student apartment. you’d sent hyunjin his things via seungmin and jeongin, who were kind enough to help you move out and get a moving van back to seoul. you were going to spend the summer with them, seeing as they simply planned to go all around seoul auditioning for companies. 

you were taping the last box when you heard a soft knock at the door.

looking up, you see hyunjin. back to his blonde hair, glowing in all his glory. you give him a tight lipped smile, and stand up to greet him quietly. “hello. i heard you got offered a year in france. congratulations.” you mumble as you stand in front of him, and he nods silently. the tension is thick as he shifts from side to side, before clearing his throat.

“i saw your poems in the hall.” he whispered, and you scoff, scratching your neck shyly. “yeah, i decided to say goodbye. sort of lost touch with that dream.” he doesn’t say anything, but you look to see his eyes screwed shut as he leans against your doorframe. “i didn’t know you wrote so much about me, y/n.”

“everything i’ve ever written has been about you, hyunjin. you were my lucky star, the moon i talked to every night. you held all my creativity, because you were my only inspiration.” you shrug, and hyunjin simply stretches his arms out. “come, let me hold you.”

and for a moment, this is okay. you’re okay, feeling the warmth of his body against your own and hearing his soft heartbeat. you’re okay, realizing that you will never stop loving hwang hyunjin, no matter how far he is. you’re okay, knowing that he also loves you, and you’re okay with the soft kiss he plants on your scalp.

“i turned it down. i got into a company,” he murmurs, and you gasp. “and even though i’d be under a dating ban, i figured i’d let you know that i miss you and that i’d override that for you, if you’ll have me. i miss waking up with you and i miss walking to class together. i miss you, and i love you. i hope that we can be together someday, again. whether it’s tomorrow or in ten years, just know my heart belongs to you.”

you can’t begin to explain why he should run. so you won’t. you won’t crush him with your fears, or your doubts of what’s to come — because in the end, the love you fear you don’t deserve has already begun. you smile into his chest, breathing in the soft scent of his perfume. “i love you.”

temptaetions © 2022. no translations, reposting or modifications are allowed. do not claim as your own. viewer discretion is advised. your media consumption is your responsibility.

#kdiarynet #kvanity #hwang hyunjin #hwang hyunjin fic #hwang hyunjin imagine #hwang hyunjin angst #hwang hyunjin smut #hwang hyunjin fluff #hyunjin #hyunjin fic #hyunjin imagine #hyunjin angst #hyunjin smut #hyunjin fluff #hyunjin x reader #stray kids #skz #skz imagine #skz fic #skz fluff #skz smut #skz angst #useremme:originals 🌷

[dreadsuitsamus]

Chicago Part 2 | Renji Abarai x Reader |

part one

author's note: after a long time trying to continue this, i've decided it's best if i just do a part 3 instead to cap this off, rather than try to push it all into one section. like in part one, this is heavily based on music by the band highly suspect, which i will always recommend you check out! the songs chicago, vanity, and wolf (which happen to be my top 3 highly suspect songs haha) are the ones mentioned in this fic and i recommend giving them a listen just to get a bit more understanding for the things mentioned in this fic.

pairing: renji abarai x fem!reader

warnings: smoking, mentions of drug use and overdoses, rockstar!renji au, angst

The stage lights are hot against his skin, and Renji's already torn off his shirt and tossed it to the fans screaming in the crowd some time ago. It's been a long string of shows in this tour and he's been out of it most of the time, not that you'd be able to tell through his performances. He's as good as ever, still passionate and still following his soul with every word he sings. It's all he's ever known.

It's an outdoor venue tonight, and it's scorching hot as the show nears its close. Sweat drips off of him and his long, vivacious scarlet locks of hair cling to his back and torso, the cameras on him catching every little detail as he approaches the mic stand again and the lights dim as the last song slows. He's outright refused to perform Chicago the entire rest of the tour, much to the band manager's and fans alike chagrin. Ever since that afternoon he last saw you, where he begged you and you still walked away from him, he can't possibly get through the song without wanting to scream and cry and curse the day he met you.

All the other songs he wrote about you are still fair game, though.

"And I have searched my soul, yeah, for you, it's true." His lips practically kiss the mic and his long, dark lashes brush against his skin as he closes his eyes to hide from the cameras and lights alike. "But nothing ever comes out right. And I swear, I'm headed back to the other side, yeah."

Vanity, he thinks. At least I was honest.

"I can't sit around and watch us both die." His voice rings out, so vulnerable and broken and no matter how many times he sings this song or thinks about you and the good times that are years in the past, he can't help feeling choked up. "Oh no—"

"I cannot watch us both die." Renji says to you as he stares out of the window, rain falling gently as a tear slips down his cheek.

You must hate him by now, if for nothing else than surely for using a line from his breakup speech to you in a song that has been heard by millions.

"Oh no, not I. You know I've gotta try." The following cry is directly from his soul, so beautiful and powerful and he's never screamed so gorgeously in his entire career. Goosebumps litter his tattooed body and the little hairs on his neck stand on end at the feeling— the whole reason for the cameras in the first place is that they're making an edit of the tour, and there's no doubt in his mind that this performance will get a complete video of its own uploaded. It's an older song from album's past that newer listeners likely wouldn't know; what a way to introduce them to his most painful memories.

"I need you here." A damned tear slips past him, and he just knows his face is plastered on the big screens of the venue— even without them, the people in the lawn seats could figure out he's a wounded man. The agony in his voice is more than enough; the lyrics and tears just hammer the point home for those that need to be told explicitly that he's a sad, lonely, broken man.

Crying for the public is starting to become his thing, and he hates what it's doing to his image. But this is the last song of the last show of the tour, and after this… He doesn't get to sing about you for a while. The other band members want a break and it's more than reasonable, he knows. They have families, husbands and wives and happy relationships that deserve tending. He's bitter, but not outwardly enough to try and deny them their love.

He can always go solo for a while, if he really wants to torture himself.

"I've tried and I'll try again. You are my friend. This is not the end."

Maybe he'll go break his own heart again instead. By the time the rest of the band is ready to reconvene, he may just have their next album written. It's been a whirlwind in the months following Chicago, and if there's one thing he's been able to learn during his career, it's that his fans love his pain just as much as they love how he parties. They'll listen to almost anything he wants to talk about— Fucking, fighting, crying, it's all the same to them. His self-destructive misery makes them feel better about their own lives, after all. It's as addicting as cocaine to hear a man spill out his life's woes alongside an insane guitar solo.

He thinks maybe he should keep some of the songs he writes for other people, just to fuck with his fans a bit. Imagine if he didn't sell that one song to Ariana Grande? The reactions would be priceless.

You'd be able to call him out easily though. You're one of the very few people in this world that really sees through the bullshit and knows his passion for what it is.

But why couldn't you accept it? Accept him?

"I can't keep doing this, Renji! Sex, drugs, rock 'n roll— that's your thing! Not mine."

"Well tell me you liked the sex, at least."

Mm, actually he understands entirely why you couldn't.

The crowd cheers and screams and snaps their blurry little photos no one will look at as the music finishes out, and without sparing anyone a glance or thanking everybody for a wonderfully successful tour, Renji's lighting a smoke and walking off stage. It's a dick move but he'll get away with it, as is immediately proven by how they don't stop cheering as he walks out of their view.

The music video finishes off with a shot of Renji walking away, his toned back hidden by the curtain of his fiery red hair. It's gotten so much longer since the first time you saw him. He's always been a gorgeous man, truly. If you could love him on looks alone, you'd still be together now.

With an hour left before the diner closes, you've got a single customer in the entire place and you certainly hope to God he'll tip you well as you approach him with a plastered-on smile to pour him his odd request of a fresh cup of coffee at this late hour. Making ends meet has been rough, and your poor momma works just as hard as you do— you don't know what you'd give if it meant she could finally relax and put her feet up, knowing she'll be taken care of and that you'll be okay too.

Your last guest is handsome at least, with flaming hair that sits around his shoulders and with facial tattoos that surprisingly aren't ugly! You didn't think it could be done, but this random man in the diner has proven you wrong. His hairline puts anime's most prideful loser to shame, but he's still incredibly cute. He's got a napkin out and writes in complete chicken scratch, and his lips move softly as he notates what's on his mind.

"'Hey momma, it's me, your oldest son.'" He murmurs to himself, and oh good lord he's in a band, isn't he? With mommy issues on top of that??

"Your food will be out shortly." You tell him softly, not trying to break his flow. And his eyes never leave the napkin as he keeps writing, but just as you walk away he speaks.

"How late is this place open?"

You glance over your shoulder at him. "Just until midnight."

He nods to himself, scribbling down another lyric. "More than enough time. Thank you."

"Of course, sir."

"Renji."

"He did tip well, at least." You mutter and close out the video as you push away the memory; that night changed your life for several years. How dumb you were in those days! Skipped town with a man you only just met, and a budding rockstar of all people. Your poor mother was worried sick until he returned you home several weeks later, but in the end it had to have been worth it for her— Renji bought her a beautiful house at the very first opportunity he had.

The very house you're currently all alone and watching your former fiancé's music videos in.

In your recommended section is a video you must've seen a thousand times by now. It's an interview Renji had absolutely no business doing for several reasons— he was too famous for the interviewer, namely, not to mention he wasn't sober at all. They always catch him when he's under the influence, don't they? It's their best chance to squeeze out the juicy details of his broken life, their best chance to get real stories behind the pretty words he sings, and anger flickers deep in your soul at how abused he is by others. It's bad enough what he does to himself, but the way his pain is seen as a commodity for likes, views and clicks ignites a rage unlike anything else you've ever felt.

"Your new single, Wolf, what's it about?"

Renji takes a drag from his cigarette, flicking the ashy remains onto the floor. It's a dick move and he's not too fucked up to not realize it, but it's this fucking guy's own fault for inviting him. "Think it's pretty clear."

"Well from what I've interpreted, it's about heartbreak."

"It's about my fucking life being ruined, if you wanna get more specific."

"It's by your own hand though, correct? You've got quite the history of self-destruction, arrests, your drug and alcohol addictions…"

Renji groans to himself. "Can't a guy fuck up in peace? Yeah, sure. I did it to myself, 'cause fuck being happy. You think that's how I like to live?" He flicks away more ashes from the cigarette, not even bothering to take a pull from it now and far more interested in fucking up the flooring.

"Can I be honest with you?"

Renji snorts. "Sure. Nobody else is, so why not?"

"I do think that's how you like to live, Renji."

It's quiet for just a moment, but the redhead recovers with a small laugh. "Guess I deserve that."

"In 'Wolf', there's a lyric that stood out to me. "I was born to rock and now I gotta roll." This is after you say you've given someone your heart and soul— most people don't abandon such a commitment."

Renji's jaw ticks. Why the hell did he come on this show again? To be called out and humiliated on camera?? "I didn't do it for fun, or because I wanted to— I didn't have a choice. It was either stay with her and be happy and lose my goddamn self, or follow the music because I don't know who I am without it and lose her in the process."

"Why not find it? You could be a husband, a father… And still be a musician too."

"But will assholes like you still listen if I sing about tucking my kid in instead of screaming about my mommy issues? Hm? None of you fuckers want me or any other “celebrity” to be happy, ‘cause you don't get your money from that shit. What's gonna get you more views, huh? A picture of me getting married or my latest fuckin’ mugshot?"

For the first time, the interviewer is speechless and Renji flicks the remnants of his smoke at the man before walking off the set, swearing up a storm and kicking things over on his way out.

You sigh and look at the old, faded photo pinned to the corkboard on the wall. Even with the age of the polaroid, Renji's crimson hair still burns bright, just like his smile. His big, stupid mouth is curled into the prettiest smile you've ever seen, with teeth blindingly white despite his smoking habit. Still, you fondly drag your finger down the photo, smiling so gently that your eyes only crinkle softly. The day this photo was taken was amazing, and no matter the tension or the burned bridge between you now, the memory of that day and the good times you had all the time during that era raises your spirits as needed.

The ticking of the clock on the wall reminds you of yourself— it's time you get ready for work at the diner. You never thought you'd be working until midnight at a shitty diner again after you left Chicago all those years ago, but time is nothing but a flat circle, it seems. With a sigh, you pull on your uniform and tie the laces of your matching pink sneakers.

But you don't make it past the front door's threshold before your phone's ringing from a number you haven't communicated with in quite some time.

"Ichigo?" You haven't been too particularly close with him in several years— he was always Renji's friend and rival, though you did have a mean streak on Snapchat still going several years after starting it. "If this is about our streak, I'll send it when I get to work."

"It's not." His voice is somber, and the sound of his sends your skin in a carefully crawling panic. "I just thought you should know about Renji."

"... What about Renji?"

"He's in the hospital."

He hates needles.

"Is he acting up?" If he's acting a fool, he's fine and there's no real need to worry.

But then Ichigo wouldn't be calling, would he?

"He overdosed last night during a party." Ichigo murmurs quietly. “I know it's asking a lot, but… Can I fly you to California?"

Ichigo counts the seconds of silence as you contemplate the idea. He's right, it is asking a lot. Your past with Renji is muddied and his obvious remaining love for you isn't enough to erase that terrible history, even with your own heart constantly pouring out love for the man at every single glimpse of him. He was born to rock and he had to roll; isn't that what he sang?

‘And I’m, I'm burying my pain into somebody else.’ He sang that, too.

"What purpose do you think that'll serve?" Your murmur isn't cold nor laced with any sort of venom or loathing; you're already just a soft breeze away from caving in and calling the diner (again) to tell them you're skipping town for a while— for Renji. It's ultimately Ichigo that'll make the decision that determines if your mother returns from her bridge session to an empty house and a Post-It note with too few details on it.

History repeats itself in the oddest of ways, in the most unexpected of times.

"Renji needs someone." Ichigo's pleading is pitiful and awfully unlike him; desperation doesn't suit him one bit. "A lot of things have changed that you don't know about… I can't look after him anymore."

"Look after him?" A sly, mischievous little smile tilts your lips at how you recall the old days with the old group, where Renji and Ichigo went head-to-head on the dumbest arguments, stupid ideas and drinking contests just about every day and night. "You remember yourself in a much better light than I do."

Despite himself, your old friend laughs on the other end. "I'm a father now, with responsibilities! That old way of life is behind me."

You laugh with him and step back into the house, jogging upstairs to your bedroom once again. "Give me my flight details as soon as you can."

"Thank you."

That old Polaroid on the wall brings a spark to your heart this time, rather than the feeling of emptiness and nostalgia it usually does.

"Baby, I met you in downtown Chicago." You sing under your breath, just as your phone lights up with the information that sets a fire up under your ass to pack quickly— that jerk chose a flight that departs in three hours!

#renji abarai x reader #renji abarai x you #renji x you #renji x reader #bleach x reader #bleach imagine #x reader #reader insert #fic

[taylorswiftstylequestions]

I miss Joe. The Joe and Taylor I thought was going on. I find it hard to believe it’s over and this is the new guy. It’s just not real. He must have been totally different from what we knew in the music. I think some of the music she said was fiction was actually real but disguised for privacy. Do you think she’s just distracting herself to get through tour?

That’s what my friend said last weekend. She doesn’t listen to Taylor’s music or know anything about her, but she also just broke up last Nov with her longtime boyfriend of 8 years.

They were supposed to get married in January. And he changed his mind. She said she needed a lot of distractions just to keep from thinking about it too much and that’s probably what Taylor is doing now just to cope especially with everyone watching every little thing she does.

It's a wild adjustment and crazy condensed timeline of a lot of drastic changes - I understand that it's a lot (some might even say too much!) to process and the default reaction to feeling overwhelmed sometimes is simply to reject it all. I get it.

The thing about Taylor is that one of her most truly accurate depictions of herself is in the line "Lover" itself: Swear to be overdramatic and true to my ... lover.

Taylor is a writer first and foremost. She is optimistic and passionate and fiery and loves love. We have ten albums worth of songs about people she once loved, and loved with the sun exploding, I-put-my-whole-heart-hips-body-soul into. And every single picture she captured was an emotion or a moment or a fleeting feeling she tapped into that was real to her once.

"I'll watch your life in pictures like I used to watch you sleep" "I loved you from the very first day" "The one real thing you've ever known" "Please don't be in love with someone else" "I realized I loved you in the fall" "I never knew I could feel that much" "We're bulletproof / You know for me, it's always you"

To be painted by Taylor's loving brush is tender and alive and real and poetry set to a score. And isn't it crazy that all of those lines are about different people and different lives and loves she's felt? And those being past doesn't mean they died there or stayed there or are no longer real. It's all still present tense because she's still here and living (laughing loving). And we're going to get the next chapter depicting this part of her life when the time is right that will hopefully provide more context and vivid shades of her life for us to get emotionally ripped apart by.

Breakups are never easy and I'm sure she's feeling a billion different emotions every single second. And truly yes a classic Taylor move is evade and distract yourself from the deep feelings you're feeling ... until you give yourself permission and space to really feel them. At which point we will get: See previous para.

#opinion

[oldschoolflavor]

Unexpected

Genre: drama, comedy

Warning: many facts changed for story development purposes!

This is a fanfic based on Doh KyungSoo(D.O. from EXO) Expectations Highlight Medley. I was fascinated by the story in the video and as a person with a vivid imagination, I started to develop the topic in my head to such an extent that I needed to write it down. Please be aware I am not a professional writer, this was created for fun!

The story is much longer than in the medley so I'll separate it into a few chapters.

I hope you will enjoy the ride! ❤️

Prologue

"...we were strong,

The strongest it was ever possible...

We were the mountain in the middle of a dark ocean of the wildest woods,

The enchanted future we expected to spend together...

...ah...

...why...?

How did we end up like this...?"

The voice of a young man rumbled with bitterness in his head. He didn't hear anything else. Walking on nighttime empty streets of Seoul's suburbs. This dark street, barely lightened by old lamps, was carrying another memory. Every corner of this town did. KyungSoo, that was his name, the man whose eyes still could see her walking next to him. His world just crumbled apart...

Chapter 1

Under the cut 👇🏻

-... I was thinking of asking you, but that's not a good idea *ha ha ha* - A loud laugh just shattered on the white corridor walls. Doors in also white color were open. Inside the changing room for celebrities, two men were chatting together. Best friends, discussing the latest events. The room's walls were white coffee colors. In the center, there were two sets of white couches and black, wood tables facing each other as in the mirror image, creating a footpath just in between. On the wall, opposite the doors was a long row of wood tables and black chairs scattered around like whoever was using them forgot to slide them back under. Above the tables were mirrors, hung next to each other. On the right side was a long stand with clothes prepared for the next idol's performance.

- You'd make my song too emotional, can't be bothered with that - laughed the tall one sitting on the first chair from right side. His name was Chanyeol, KyungSoo's best friend. Kyungsoo was sitting at the table on the left side of the room. He was smiling but his eyes were telling about irritation.

- Because the lyrics are about the difficult breakup, it should be emotional... Creams are happy with their songs...- said with an unmoved tone.

- Right! They are doing great, I swear! - Chanyeol admitted while pointing his fingers at the door as if this girl group was standing there. - you fitted the songs so well for them -

- Because they're not "fitted", the manager banned me from giving any archive songs, so I had to create new ones, especially for Creams -

- That's bad, I bet you have lots of great songs written, but can't use them - After saying those words Chanyeol's smile disappeared from his face and he continued - are you planning to use them for yourself? - looked at KyungSoo and the silence fell over the room. KyungSoo was gazing at his hands while looking for the best answer:

- No...It's fine, they will be waiting for the next idol...-

- Bollocks!- a friend raised voice while swinging his head forward - You'd be great! but...- then leaned comfortably on the chair - anyways...it's your decision. Do whatever you want - and stopped here, as he knew he'd say too much if he would continue.

KyungSoo without any further discussion stood from his seat and started to walk to the doors, asking: are you going?

Chanyeol then smiled and did the same. When they opened the door, just at this moment the girl group walked by together with two men looking like security. Both are tall, well-built, and equipped with a utility belt and black body armor.

Just behind the 5 young girls, the manager was walking. Middle height, middle age. Wrinkles under his eyes were representing more of his personality than age. He glanced at KyungSoo for a long second and suddenly smirked while turning his head forward. Kyungsoo was just watching him without any visible reaction. Then, both he and Chanyeol stepped outside of the room and followed the group.

*click click click*

the sound echoed in the corridor.

- Chanyeol! Oh God, this is unbelievable! -

a female voice shouted. She suddenly appeared next to the friend's couple, this maybe 25 or 28-year-old girl, and started to take pictures with the camera. Chanyeol was posing while KyungSoo stepped back so he wouldn't be in view. She reacted:

- What are you doing? Come here! - and pointed by her hand on the spot next to his friend.

- I'm not an idol though-

- Sorry, what's your name? -

- Doh KyungSoo- he almost whispered

- It's shocking! I thought you're one of the idols, you look great - she smiles after finishing the sentence.

- I'm going first, can't be late, OK? - said Chanyeol and waved his hand in a "goodbye" manner then walked away.

The photographer needed a longer time to consider what she should do from now on.

- You're not going with them? - asked after long seconds.

- I'm not in a hurry, the performance will be later - and smiled shyly at her, waiting for a reaction.

- I should go because I still have a lot of content to do. See you later! - and she runs forward, slowly disappearing from his view. He was standing in silence for a long second, then decided to move as well.

Later, in the control booth, KyungSoo together with 3 other staff was preparing for the performance which will take place next 20 minutes. KyungSoo standing in the back, looking at the other coworkers, making sure everything is under control.

- Don't...!- he raised his voice but then hesitated - ...Don't use the middle lamp, it will make them dazzle, it's too strong -

- Oh, you're right. Sorry! - answered the one sitting on the left side of the controller and twisted one of the caps. KyungSoo came near and looked at the soundboard.

- That should be ok - said and raised his head to look at the scene behind the wide window. The view was incredible. Hundreds of seats in red colour as well as the carpet. Approximately 10 step stairs led to a stage top, 2 pairs, one on the left, second on the right. The massive curtains that split the stage and hidden the other half were in navy blue colour. Suddenly, the door was opened and the photographer girl from before came in.

- Hi, would you mind if I make a few shots? -

All of them looked at her with many questions in their eyes.

- What for? - finally, the one sitting just at the right end of the controller broke the silence.

She smiled happily and said:

- It's mostly for my portfolio, but we may be using them later, of course with your permission only! - then stuck her camera to her smiling face and pressed the button to make a picture.

KyungSoo wasn't happy. He looked at the girl resentfully, but when he was about to start talking, the doors opened again...

It was the manager, who casually walked in.

Without any word, he stood next to KyungSoo and looked behind the window, then started:

- All prepared? -

- Yes, we just finished. The program is starting next 5 minutes, we are ready -

Then manager looked at KyungSoo out of the corner of his eye.

- Did you imagine?...- he grunted. Surprised KyungSoo asked: Excuse me?

- Did you imagine yourself there? - those words were like a knife straight into KyungSoo's heart. He barely managed to stay calm:

- Why would I do such a thing? -

- We both know this could have been your stage, but with your attitude, we would need a mask or dubler - then smiled like it was the best joke he could ever think of.

- You would be hidden behind the scenes and gi...-

- Can you...!- KyungSoo interrupted him, but backed off the next second, then finished with a low tone voice:

- It's not the best time, leave it manager Kim...-

The smile wasn't coming off the manager's face, but he did do as he was told. KyungSoo suddenly turned around and saw the photographer still standing there with a frightened face.

- Do you need to be here? - asked. She then, without any word opened the door and walked away.

The performance was glamorous. Creams have shown spectacular shows and gathered hundreds of fans cheering for them singing their producer's songs. After the show, the audience started to walk away, and staff rolled up the equipment or cleaned the stage. Two friends, Chanyeol and KyungSoo walked into the theatre by the backstage doors. Suddenly, Chanyeol stopped:

- KyungSoo-yah, sorry! - and fold his hands as if in prayer - I forgot I promised Sue I'll show her some things online and take her back home, you know what I mean - and stick out his tongue flirtatiously

- Sorry, I promise I'll pay you back double for today! - and run back to the backstage leaving KyungSoo alone.

He wasn't upset, he wasn't even sure if he was bothered about it. This was a long, difficult day and the only thing he wished for was going back home and lying in his comfy bed. He turned around and walked towards the main entrance, but then...sudden hunch told him to stop. In the middle row, just on the first seat next to him was the photographer girl, looking at the camera and sliding photos. She wept silently...her right hand was holding her head widely to cover part of her face. KyungSoo looked at her in silence, why the sudden need to speak to her? It's not his business, and they don't know each other...why the hesitation to just walk away?

- What? - she asked, while still covering her face and looking at the camera. KyungSoo was looking for the best question to ask. Then after a couple of seconds, he goes:

- You're not going home? -

It wasn't the best choice of question, but it just flew somehow from his mouth, surprising himself.

- ...are you hungry?- she asked without moving an inch from her last position, making him step back and open his eyes widely out of shock:

- W..well...I didn't plan it, but I can grab a takeaway if...that's OK? - almost whispered, still mesmerized. Suddenly she smiled and looked at him:

- Then let's go, what was your name again? KyungSoo, the producer of Creams? I like it! My name is YiSeul, the photographer in training - she smiled gracefully even though the tears were still lying gently on her cheeks. That made him smile happily for a second. This wasn't in the scenario. Meeting her that day wasn't planned at all, but even if he was tired, this new colleague seemed like the best companion after this long, demanding day.

It's only today! They will never meet again, so why not?

Won't they?

#kdrama #doh kyungsoo #do kyung soo #exo do kyungsoo #d.o. kyungsoo #do kyungsoo #exo kyungsoo #kyungsoo #highlight medley #exo d.o. #exo d.o #d.o. #expectations #fanfic

[lykaonimagines]

Throes Of The Storm - Stephen Strange x Reader

Paring: Stephen Strange x Previous Avenger F!Reader

Word Count: 2,930

Description: Y/N found her life spiraling after the Snap took away half her friends and her boyfriend. Seeking comfort through other means, her somewhat distant boyfriend’s return can’t stop her rapid decline after the loss of her found family and the effects of the five years they spent apart. Faced with her crumbling relationship, she has to do something about it.

Request: "Can you write a fic with the song "Let Me Go," by Anna Akana from the reader's perspective? With our regular Stephen. I'd like angst but a happy ending if you could.”

Requested by: Anon (I left out part of your ask for the description, but I just wanted to say good luck and stay strong 💙)

Other Things: Hurt/comfort. Getting help. Angsty and toxic at first, working things out for fluff at the end. Appearance by Thor. 

Warnings: Alcoholism/alcohol theme. Toxic relationship in the first part. Angsty. Breakup. Some swearing.

Masterlist

“Are you even happy Y/N?”

Y/N slowly turns back toward the sorcerer, searching his face with her unsteady gaze. “What did you just ask me?”

Stephen sighs and clicks his neck slowly, “I asked if you’re happy Y/N. Here. With me. With us. With this.”

“I don’t want to call it quits Stephen,” she states, crossing her arms defiantly. “I- I don’t have all the answers, I don’t know. But I don’t want to let go.”

“You’re drunk again aren’t you?” He asks after a moment as he narrows his eyes, closing the distance between them to pull her closer to him. His nose wrinkles in disgust as the obvious smell on her breath hits his nostrils.

She stares back at him silently. The worn lines on his face seem deeper than she remembers, then again when had she last looked that closely? His normally bright blue eyes full of love stare back at her dully, hurt and anger below the surface.

Releasing her arm, he storms out of the room without a word, Y/N quickly at his heels while nearly stumbling into the wall. “Wait! Stephen come on, it’s a few drinks after a rough day, that’s normal!”

“It’s not just the drinks. I’m done with this conversation,” he seethes back, picking up his pace as he continues down the hall.

“It was seriously only a few!”

“You have a rough day every day Y/N,” he turns into the library without sparing her a look.

“Fuck, what did I do this time then?” she asks, gripping his elbow as he reaches up for a book on a shelf. “Was it really that bad that you can’t just let it go?”

“If you don’t even know in the first place, all you’ve done is further prove the issue Y/N.”

“Maybe I’d drink less if you were actually here!” she snaps. “Maybe if after being gone for five fucking years, and knowing I just lost most of the only family I ever fucking had, if you’d just fucking be home and here for me more I wouldn’t need to!”

His frame tenses as he squeezes his eyes shut and grips a book tightly in his hand.

“Oh right so just shut me out now again huh? Exactly what you’re always fucking good at. I thought you said you would actually try with this. But once again, you’re so afraid of love it doesn’t stand a fucking chance Stephen.”

A sharp gasp leaves his mouth as his gaze finally settles back on her, eyes glossy and dark as they stare back at her in disbelief of her words.

Ripping his arm from her grasp, he lets the book in his hands drop to the floor to turn away from her as she sees tears welling at the corners of his eyes.

“I- fuck can we start over? I didn’t mean it, baby come here,” she pleads, reaching out for him, only touching air as he rushes past her back out into the hall.

“No! Please don’t walk away, I won’t get angry again, I’m sorry!”

Her pleas seem to fall on deaf ears as he slips into an empty room and slams the door in her face without a word.

Trying the handle, she quickly realizes he’s locked her out. Sliding down to the floor she leans against the floor in defeat and places her head in her hands.

She can sense his presence on the other side of the door, quiet sniffles breaking her heart as she stares at the wooden floor under her. Her hand runs anxiously through her hair.

“I’m sorry,” she says softly after what feels like an eternity leaning against the door. Her senses starting to heighten and the inevitable headache already starting to form. “You don’t deserve to be treated like this… I… I think I need help. I don’t want to be like this. I don’t know. I- I’ll go now. I don’t want to hurt you anymore.”

Pulling herself to her still unsteady feet, she heads down the staircase and looks around the open area of the sanctum for a moment with a sigh before heading through the door.

-One Year Later-

“I made those maps you wanted Thor,” Y/N announces as she walks into a large living room in the palace in New Asgard. “I started marking relic locations based on…”

Y/N’s voice trails off as she looks up from the papers in her hands to see Thor and Doctor Strange sitting on the sofas. “On the info I was able to gather,” she finally finishes as she directs her gaze away from Stephen’s quickly.

“Lady Y/N there you are!” Thor calls out happily, taking the papers she offers and tosses them onto the coffee table. “Join us, the wizard has come by to help us in our search.

Swallowing hard as Thor indicates at the seat next to Stephen, she instead takes the seat next to the god himself before correcting him, “Sorcerer, Thor, he’s a sorcerer. It’s a respect thing.”

Stephen’s chuckle causes her to glance back up at him, the slightest curve of a smile on his lips as those familiar blue eyes look her over.

Those same beautiful eyes that were full of pain the last she saw them. Pain she caused.

“Ah, wizard. Sorcerer. Witch. Warlock. Mage,” Thor waves it off. “They all play with magic. Now tell us what you found.”

Y/N nods before grabbing the top sheet from the pile of papers and starts outlining the location of the first lost Asgardian relic.

“I’m thinking our best bet is coming in from here in the next few days,” she gestures toward a path. “We could get a jump on them. Their security is tighter than I’d like, but nothing we shouldn’t be able to handle. Though if we’re going to have portal support on the Doctor’s side it should be a lot easier to get in and out.”

Thor nods approvingly, putting an arm affectionately across Y/N’s shoulders and pressing a kiss to her temple, oblivious to the pointed stare now directed at him. “Brilliant as ever Lady Y/N.”

“You know you can just call me Y/N,” she insists with a laugh. “I’m no princess, and hardly feel fitting of the title ‘lady’ like I have some fancy decorum.”

“In Asgard only the most cunning, strong, and beautiful warrior women receive the title of Lady,” he announces gripping her shoulder. “And you are very deserving of the title. You are a valiant warrior of many battlefields my dear. I’m sure Strange would agree.”

Before Stephen can respond, she starts to speak, “Stephen has seen the worst parts of me Thor, don’t put him on the spot to compliment me. I- I shouldn’t even be in this conversation with you two. Please excuse me.”

Pulling herself up from the couch and trying to quickly exit the room, she’s stopped in the doorway by a trembling hand gripping her shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers as his eyes meet hers. “I’m so sorry.”

“You look radiant,” he remarks, his thumb rubbing against her jaw.

“I- thanks,” she stutters as she stares back into his eyes. They still look tired, but they shine in a way she hasn’t seen since before the snap. “Do you want to sit and talk or, well I would understand if you don’t but if you do-”

A teasing grin spreads across his face as he presses a finger to her lips to stop her ramble, “I’d like that. I’ll ask Thor to postpone the rest of our meeting.”

Nodding at the sorcerer, Y/N gives him directions to her room in the palace and sets off there herself as he turns back into the room with Thor.

The walk to her room seems to last forever. Each footstep feels heavy, and her heart beats wildly in her chest. This was the last place she expected to see him. Not that she didn’t want to. Not that the idea of speaking to him didn’t excite her. But she… did she deserve it? After everything she said and did.

Reaching her quarters, she heads to her kitchenette to start a kettle and pull out the tea and two cups. Leaning against the counter, she closes her eyes and counts slowly as to calm herself down.

As the kettle beeps, she hears the door to her room opening, “Y/N?”

“Come in!” she shouts in response, quickly finishing up the tea. By the time she’s back in her small sitting room, Stephen has already taken a seat in one of her chairs.

Accepting a cup from her, he takes a sip and smiles at her softly over the rim of the cup, “I see you remember how I take it.”

“Of course,” she responds with a small shrug, slipping into her seat across from him.

After a few minutes of sitting in silence as they drink their tea, he finally speaks again. “Is this where you’ve been the past year?”

“Mostly,” she admits with a slow nod. “When I left… I mean. My first thought was Wong, but I thought I shouldn’t be hanging around your life. Tony was gone and I didn’t want to bother his family with my shit. Steve isn’t the same Steve he was. Natasha is gone. Clint went home to his family. Bruce is finally happy with his life. Bucky and Sam have been off dealing with their own shit. Scott I barely know, Peter’s a kid. Vis is dead, Wanda had disappeared. Realized Thor was all I had left that would maybe let me in. Wasn’t even sure on that after how he spent the five years prior.

“But first checked myself into a rehab in New York, got a therapist. Spent a few months there. When I left, Thor invited me to come live in New Asgard. Valkyrie runs the place after he gave over control to her, but she was fine with it. Gave me these quarters next to Thor,” she points across the room at a door. “His place is through there, we’ve hung out a lot. It’s been nice… having him back in my life, and he’s been supportive. He’s gone through a lot to get back where he is now. We both lost a lot of people and ourselves along the way I think. Figure out how to deal with pain rather than repressing or dampening. It’s been a long road for the both of us.”

Stephen nods stiffly, his mouth wavering between a frown and a forced smile, “You two are together now then?”

Y/N chuckles and shakes her head, taking a long drink of her tea. “You really think I jumped into another relationship after everything? I’ve barely trusted myself until recently to not royally fuck up a friendship, much less something romantic. I needed to sort my own shit out.”

“Besides,” she continues. “Someone else still has a vice grip on my heart. I had no intentions of trying to hand out something that’s unavailable. Plus Thor’s like a brother.”  

Tension clearly leaves his shoulders as he lets them slightly drop and gets more comfortable in his seat, “For what it’s worth, I’m proud of you. You look… like I said earlier, radiant. Healthy. Alive. Present. Glowing. Hard to take my eyes off you.”

She feels her cheeks warm at the compliments, “T-thanks. That night was the last I had a drink. Over a year sober now. Have a healthier diet, though I do live in a palace with the sitting King, and the lifelong Prince. Work out with Thor quite a bit. Go for walks. The air is nice here.”

“Congratulations,” he smiles fully at her this time, the first genuine full smile she’s seen from him in… six years? “You’re doing so well.”

“And how have you been?” she asks.

Stephen hums for a moment, swirling his drink in the cup and looking at it thoughtfully. “Sorting my shit out would be an accurate statement for me as well.”

“What exactly were you sorting out?”

“Balance,” he says simply. “Finding more time for myself. Less time trying to fix every problem in the universe. Realizing how empty the sanctum feels with just me in it. Contemplating… other things. Trying to figure out what makes me happy.”

“I- the things I said that day. The look on your face… fuck. I’m sorry Stephen. You never deserved any of that. I was in a bad place and taking it out on you,” she suddenly blurts out as she sees him getting lost in his words.

He reaches out and gently lays his hand on hers, intertwining their fingers as she turns her palm up to him, “I’m not blameless. It might hurt, but doesn’t mean you were entirely wrong. I didn’t understand. I was gone for five seconds and finished the fight I knew was coming. I didn’t live without you for years. I wasn’t that close to Tony or any of the others. I wasn’t there for you in the ways you needed me, and just expected you to handle all of that yourself. I just fought with you over how you were going about it. I didn’t do anything to stop your spiral, I just shouted at you as you went down it. And I’m sorry.”

Y/N swallows thickly and nods, her hand squeezing his she meets his soft gaze, “How did you end up here?”

“Thor reached out to me yesterday asking for help locating and retrieving the Asgardian relics. Made a good point about not letting them end up in the wrong hands since several are dangerous. He may have also mentioned you were here assisting him.”

“So after a year, one conversation with Thor and you’re here?”

“Y/N I’ve spent every day of the last year fighting the urge to go find you and bring you home,” he says as he stares at her intently. “I was hurt, and angry. But letting you walk out the fucking door on that night, I nearly portal-ed you back in the moment you stepped out. I thought you’d come back, that I’d wait. You’d be back in the morning. At the end of the weekend. End of the week. After a month.

“Then I didn’t even know where to look for you, I hadn’t even thought of Thor,” he responds. “After you’d been gone this long and I heard nothing, I thought you didn’t want me in your life. When he reached out to me, I told myself I’d just check on you… make sure you looked alright. And then I’d leave you alone. Already broken that I suppose.”

“You… wanted me to come back?” She asks incredulously. “After all that, you actually still wanted me to come back? I was actively making your life worse.”

“You’re not the only one who’s heart has a vice grip on it,” he admits, using his magic to slide her chair closer to him. “In fact it’s quite unfair how tightly you’ve held onto it since the day you directed that beautiful smile at me for the first time. Rude actually.”

Y/N chuckles and reaches out her free hand to place it on his thigh, “So what do you want now Doctor Strange?”

“I want you to come home, I want you to be on the other side of the bed when I wake up in the morning. I want to start over, fresh start. I need you by my side,” he shifts forward in his chair to press his knees against hers, a familiar determined look in his eyes she loved. “I love you, and I’m not afraid of that anymore.”

“Maybe slowly,” she responds after a few moments of thought. “Maybe a few dates… spend a night or two at a time… see how this goes? I’m trying to be better, I don’t want you to forgive me that fully so quickly. I want to move past all this, but not because you decided to ignore it.”

“I can work with that,” he nods and moves to the edge of his seat, his free hand going to her cheek. “Would it be too fast to ask if I can kiss you?”

A smile tugs at her lips as she looks up at him and leans into his touch, “Well it’s far from the first time, just a kiss couldn’t hurt right?”

Sliding in closer to her until they’re face to face, he brings his mouth near hers, his warm breath on her lips. They ghost lightly over her own, applying the slightest amount of pressure as he stills, seemingly waiting for her reaction.

Her own lips move against his, a hand sliding up his arm then neck to thread into the hair at the back of his head, eliciting a soft groan from the sorcerer.

He reaches over to pull her onto his lap, lips moving passionately against hers as chills run up her spine. His tongue swipes over her lip to gain entrance into her mouth, a quiet mewl escaping her as he succeeds.

As they break away, he looks into her eyes lovingly, “I’ve missed that. Your lips. Your sounds. Your kiss. You.”

“I’ve missed you too,” she whispers, leaning her head against his shoulder.

“We’re going to be alright,” he says confidently, running his fingers through her hair. “We’ll get through it. Together this time, one step at a time.”

-----

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[justabigassnerd]

Anyone else

Pairing - TASM!Peter Parker x reader

Word count - 3,880

Warnings - angst, mentions of a breakup, pining, swearing

Song - Anyone Else by Joshua Bassett

Summary - I did warn y'all I'll go off with Joshua Bassett songs given the opportunity. I've been listening to this song on repeat bc it's just so damn beautiful and bosh a fic idea popped up. I apologise if this is shite because this is my first attempt at writing any sort of pining. Anyways I'll stop rambling, as per y'all, please send in requests, feedback and enjoy!

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Peter wanted nothing but the best for you. You’d been best friends since your first day of school when you had approached the shy Peter and asked if he wanted to play with you at recess. The rest was history.

Peter was the best friend you could ever ask for. He went out of his way for you every day despite your protests. He’d always walk you to and from classes, even if it meant he’d be late to his own class. He’d always compliment your outfits, even if you hardly put any effort into what you were wearing. He made you feel like the prettiest person on the planet. He was your person, the one you could go to when times got tough. And you were his person. You were two peas in a pod, and you couldn’t bear to imagine life without Peter Parker in it.

Peter wanted the best for you, but he couldn’t help but be absolutely devastated when you entered your shared flat one day excitedly telling him that someone from one of your university classes asked you on a date. He tried his hardest to match your excitement, telling you how happy he was for you. Peter had gone to bed that night angrily scolding himself for waiting too long to confess the feelings he’d been harbouring for you since high school. He’d waited all this time just for you to get scooped up by someone else because he was too scared to admit his feelings. But because he’s Peter, your best friend since forever, he grinned and bore it. He listened to you gush about how amazing your boyfriend, Jacob was as much as you wanted and gave you advice if you asked for it, not that he would ever consider himself an expert on relationships. Peter wanted to hate Jacob. He wanted to resent the man for scooping you up, but he couldn’t. He took care of you and treated you right. Peter had trailed Jacob as Spider-Man a couple of times in the vain hope he’d discover that he was part of some criminal organisation or just a piece of shit that he could turn in to the police. To his displeasure, Peter found that Jacob was normal. No criminal activity of any kind. Just an average man living in New York.

Peter tried going on a few dates of his own, but no one could compare to you. The people he went out with weren’t necessarily bad people, in fact, he got on well with most of them. They just weren’t you. He couldn’t help but compare every little thing they did to what you would do. One guy he went out on a date with was an expert skateboarder much like Peter. Despite that, Peter couldn’t help but think about how god awful you were at skateboarding. Every time he talked you into stepping onto his board you clung to his shoulder like your life depended on it as he laughed at you. A girl barely paid attention to him on a different date when he spoke about his classes after she asked what he studied. He couldn’t stop thinking about how you always gave him your full attention. It didn’t matter if you were half asleep or that you didn’t quite understand what it was, he was talking about, you always listened. You always preached that you cared because it was something he was passionate about, and he deserved to feel heard.

“How come you haven’t moved in with Jacob yet?” Peter’s sudden question asked during your weekly movie night made you shift your gaze from the tv to him, sat with a bowl of popcorn on his lap as he kept his gaze on the movie.

“You want me to move out?” You ask, your voice small and your heart sinking at the thought of Peter wanting you to move out. You didn’t know what you had done wrong for him to say that.

“No! God, I didn’t mean it to come out like that. That’s not what I meant I swear. It’s just… you’ve been with Jacob a while now and most couples move in together by now. How come you and Jacob haven’t done that yet?” Peter apologises and rephrases, silently hating himself for sounding like he wanted you to move out. You moving out was the last thing he wanted.

“I don’t think we’re at that stage yet. I like him a lot, but I don’t think I’m ready to move in just yet. Besides, I don’t want to move out unless I know you have someone you can live with. I don’t want to leave you alone, Pete.” You say honestly, turning to face Peter as his gaze softens. He puts the bowl of popcorn on the coffee table and pulls you into his arms, resting his chin on the top of your head. You reciprocate the hug, smiling to yourself as you unconsciously nuzzle closer to him, enjoying the warmth and comfort his hugs provide you with. Peter’s hugs felt like nothing could ever hurt you, that the outside world couldn’t touch you while you were safely wrapped up in his arms.

As you curled up in Peter’s arms, he wondered if Jacob’s heart also skipped a beat when you nuzzled closer. He wondered if Jacob wrapped you up in the tightest hugs possible to protect you from the harsh realities of the outside world. Peter knew it was bad, to imagine you were his when he knew you had a boyfriend. But he didn’t care. He daydreamed all day every day what he would do if you were his. How he’d treat you with nothing but love and respect. He loved you so much it was so painful. More painful than any injury he has sustained during his years of being Spider-Man. Holding you so close was intoxicating, the familiar mixture of your perfume and shampoo wafts under his nose, still being able to make him smile and make his heart rush no matter how much he smells the familiar combination.

The comforting silence that had been created between the two of you was disrupted by the ping of your phone, making you sit up and detangle yourself from Peter’s embrace. As you turned to pick up your phone Peter couldn’t help but let his smile drop, knowing exactly who had texted you and knowing he’d never get to be that guy for you.

“Jacob?” Peter asks quietly, hoping against hope that he’s wrong and you’d tell him it’s Gwen. Hell, he’d even hope Harry was the answer. Anyone but Jacob. But he could tell from the smile that crossed your face that it was your boyfriend.

“He asked if I want to go around his tomorrow night.” You say, glancing over your shoulder, regarding Peter softly. Your expression didn’t read that you were asking for permission but rather you were asking if Peter would be okay.

“You should go. I can just patrol a little longer to kill time.” Peter laughs softly, a little heartbroken but not wanting you to miss spending time with your boyfriend just because he had feelings for you. Your smile dropped slightly at the mention of patrolling, it always worried you to no end when he went out as Spider-Man, but you also knew that there was nothing you could do to stop him.

“We should probably head to bed. You’ve got a class at nine and I don’t need to be dragging your lazy ass out of bed.” You laugh after glancing at your phone a second time, noticing the time.

“Have you considered; that my bed is much better than any class.” Peter says with a laugh as you stand up, picking up the near-empty bowl of popcorn and moving to the kitchen while Peter grabs the tv remote and turns the tv off, standing up and moving away from the sofa. You return from the kitchen and see Peter mingling in the living room doorframe.

“Come on Parker, we need our beauty sleep.” You say with a small laugh as you walk past Peter, your shoulder brushing up against his arm as you pass. Peter felt his arm warm up, feeling as if a spark had happened by the mere contact and set his arm alight. By the time Peter had regained focus on the world around him you were just disappearing into your room, calling back at Peter to turn all the lights off as he went before muttering something about the electricity bill under your breath. Peter nodded at your words, remembering stupidly that you couldn’t see him before following your instructions, turning all the lights off before retreating to his own bedroom.

The next evening came way too quickly for Peter’s liking. He wanted his classes to drag on forever so he wouldn’t have to watch you leave to go to your boyfriend’s house. When he returned home from his final class, the sun was just beginning to dip in the sky as he entered the flat and called through the space to announce his return and your head popped around the doorway to the living room with a smile, welcoming him back warmly. God the way his heart soared when you greeted him with that beaming smile of yours, it reduced him to a puddle every time.

“Hey Pete! Were classes, okay?” You ask, watching as Peter kicks his shoes off and shrugs lightly, his bag slipping off his shoulder at the action.

“They were alright. I have a bunch of stuff to do after patrol. Might be an all-nighter type of night.” Peter grumbles, thinking about all the work he has to do for his various classes.

“If you pull an all-nighter, I swear I will flip my shit. Don’t overwork yourself Peter, especially if you’re patrolling a little longer today. You need to take care of yourself.” You scold lightly, a slight pout appearing as you worry about Peter.

“Hey, I’ll be okay. I can handle one all-nighter. I am Spider-Man after all.” Peter says calmly with a smile.

“Spider-Man is still prone to exhaustion, and I don’t want you getting hurt because of it.” You say, approaching Peter and taking his hand gently. Peter’s breath hitched in his throat as your thumb grazed his knuckles.

“I’ll be fine.” Peter whispers, smiling and giving your hand a quick squeeze before dropping it, knowing he’d combust holding your hand any longer.

“Okay… well I should head out. Don’t want to walk to Jacob’s in the dark.” You joke, grabbing your jacket and throwing it on.

“Do I look okay?” You ask just as you reach the door, turning to Peter for approval, worry on your face.

“You look beautiful. You always do.” Peter says softly, a fond smile on his face as your face lights up, crossing over to him and pulling him into a hug.

“Thank you, Pete.” You whisper, squeezing him tight as he presses a quick kiss to the top of your head before letting you pull away. You thank Peter once more with a smile before turning and heading out the door, leaving Peter in the hallway alone. He turns on his heel and heads into his room, grabbing his Spider-Man suit and putting it on. He needed to patrol but he also needed to make sure you made it to Jacob’s flat safely. Once he was suited up, he climbed out his bedroom window and swung onto the roof of a nearby building, finding you walking the streets instantly. He followed you carefully, keeping an eye out for any harm that could come your way but to his relief, you made it to the flat safely. Having ensured your safety, Peter could focus on patrolling. The patrol was uneventful, he stopped a grand total of one mugging and that was all. He eventually returned home earlier than he expected because of the lack of crime and once he was showered and in some comfy clothes, he sat at the desk in his bedroom and resigned himself to getting all his work done. He got on with his work fine, but he couldn’t help but wish you were around to distract him, to force him to take a break because he’s an idiot who doesn’t know when to take a step back and relax for a moment. As Peter worked, he heard the door fly open and he sat up dead straight in an instant, listening intently to who might’ve just entered. His heart leapt into his throat when he heard your small sniffles and he was up on his feet in an instant, throwing his door open and heading to where you were standing in the hallway. He saw you fighting back tears as your eyes met his.

“y/n…” He starts, trailing off when you barrel into him. Wrapping your arms around him and burying your face in his chest to supress your sobs. Without question, Peter led you carefully into your room, sitting on the bed with you beside him. He didn’t force you to speak, he let you cry as much as you needed.

“He broke up with me.” You say without warning as you calm down. Peter could’ve sworn his heart stopped in his chest at your words.

“He what?” Peter questions, tightening his hold on you and fighting to keep his anger in check.

“He broke up with me. It seemed so normal at first. We had dinner and then out of nowhere he told me that he didn’t want to be with me anymore. I think he made dinner because he thought it would soften the blow.” You whimper, burying yourself further into Peter’s embrace, wanting nothing more than to hide away from the world. Peter’s heart was shattering at the sounds of your cries

“He’s an idiot for breaking up with you. He had the best person I know right in his grasp, and he let you go.” Peter grumbles, anger coursing through his veins at how he just broke up with you like that.

“Clearly, I wasn’t that great. He caught feelings for someone else and I can’t fault him for having emotions. I just can’t help but wonder where I went wrong. What did I do to drive him away?” You whisper, shifting so you could look up at Peter, tears glistening in your eyes and staining your cheeks.

“Hey, you did nothing wrong. You’re amazing and you didn’t do anything wrong. It was him. He fell for someone else, and he made the wrong move. Any person would be lucky to have you. You’ll find the right person soon enough.” Peter says, his voice soft and gentle as he rubs a soothing hand up and down your back.

“I was ready to say it, Pete. I was gonna tell him I loved him.” Your whimper made Peter hug you impossibly closer, resting his cheek on the top of your head and rapidly blinking away the tears that threatened to escape his eyes. He didn’t want you to worry about him when you were the one who needed his comfort and support right now.

“I’m so sorry. It’ll be okay. It’ll just take some time and I’m gonna be there every step of the way.” Peter assures, pressing a feather-light kiss to the top of your head. His heart was screaming at him. Screaming for him to confess his feelings for you but his brain rebutted, knowing you were heartbroken, and it wouldn’t be fair to you to just confess his feelings. Right now you needed him to be your best friend, so that’s what he was going to be.

“It’s always been me and you against the world, hasn’t it? We can handle this. I know we can.” Peter continues when you don’t respond, leaning away from the hug slightly so he could address you properly. Your teary eyes met his soft brown eyes as you nodded.

“We can handle this.” You echo, and a small smile crosses both of your faces at your words.

“That’s my girl. Let’s get some rest, shall we? You said something about us needing beauty sleep?” Peter teases lightly with a laugh as you wipe your eyes and chuckle, nodding at his words.

“You better actually go to bed, Parker because if I wake up and find out that you pulled an all-nighter I’m hiding your Spider-Man suit for at least a week.” You manage to joke as you wipe the remainder of the tears from your eyes. Peter noticed you still had some tear stains on your cheeks and out of instinct, tugged his hoodie sleeve over his hand and gently wiped them away before realising what he was doing and pulled his hand away.

“Sorry, you just had some tears on your- I’ll go to bed. You should do the same.” Peter says quickly, releasing you from his arms and moving away carefully before getting to his feet and heading to your door. You say quick goodnight before Peter leaves which he returns hurriedly, leaving you confused about his reaction to his own actions.

In the passing days, Peter let you mourn your relationship. He let you cry on his shoulder if you needed to. Or he’d let you rant about how shitty it was for Jacob to break up with you in that way. No matter the emotion or what you wanted to do, Peter was there to listen and help. He knew you wanted to find your feet again after recently coming out of a relationship, so he didn’t make a move. You didn’t need to be overwhelmed with his confessions when you were still dealing with a breakup.

What Peter didn’t know was that you found yourself falling for him over the days. At first, you thought it was just your heart confusing the platonic love you held for him in your heart with romantic love due to your breakup, but the breakup had changed the way you saw Peter. When Peter offered you a shoulder to cry on or a warm hug when you were down, your heart would skip a beat, buzzing with excitement at getting to be so close to Peter. When the pain from your breakup began to pass and you began to consider dating again, only then did you realise that Peter was the guy you wanted to be with.

You had fallen for your best friend.

After about a month after your breakup and you felt ready to put yourself out there, you decided that you would bring the subject up in front of Peter to see how he felt about it. You valued Peter’s opinion on things like this and you also secretly wanted to see how he’d react. You knew it was wishful thinking, to believe that Peter might like you in the same way you like him, but it was worth a shot.

“I’m thinking of beginning to date again. What do you think?” You say casually as you lie across the sofa one afternoon, looking up at Peter from where your head rested on his thigh. You didn’t see Peter’s slightly widened eyes at your words before he composed himself, looking down at you with his ever gentle gaze.

“Do you feel ready for that?” Peter asks. You could tell there was no malicious intent behind his words, there never was when it came to the two of you, only concern and his slight protectiveness.

“I do, yeah.” You confirm, smiling slightly as he nods, swallowing thickly before he opens his mouth to talk.

“Okay, I need to tell you something. Something important. I like you y/n. As in, more than a friend. I’ve liked you since our senior year of high school and I was always too scared to make a move because I never wanted to lose you. When you started going out with Jacob, I was so mad at myself for letting the kindest, most gorgeous person I know slip from my grasp just like that. And then when you broke up, I knew I’d be a dick if I tried to make a move straight after that, so I waited for you to be ready. Because I don’t want to risk losing you to someone else again. I am done pretending I want anyone else. And if you don’t like what I just said then we can just act like this never happened and just continue being friends because I don’t want to not have you in my life.” Peter rambles nervously as you sit up, your gaze not once leaving his as you shuffle around to face him. Without thinking, you grabbed Peter’s hand and grazed your thumb along his knuckles.

“Peter I… I like you too. More than as a friend. I’ve realised you’re the only guy I want to be with. You’re amazing, and I know I don’t deserve you.” You trail off before Peter hauls you into a hug, resting his chin on the top of your head.

“Don’t say that. You deserve the world and more. You deserve much more than an idiot who swings around the city every day in spandex.” Peter says, his chin digging into your head as he speaks.

“Well, it’s a good thing all I want is an idiot who swings around the city every day in spandex.” You say with a smile, shuffling back and looking up at Peter. He gently leant forward and rested his forehead against yours, gazing softly into your eyes.

“I’d like to take you out on a date. Is tonight, okay?” Peter asks with a cheeky smile, laughing quietly as you nod against his head.

“Tonight is more than alright, Mr Parker.” You reply, laughing as Peter pulls away, rolling his eyes jokingly.

“How about I take you to that little restaurant that’s not too far from here? It’s not too expensive but it’s still a nice place.” Peter offers, stretching back and looking over at you.

“Sounds perfect Pete.” You grin, moving back into his arms when he opens them up and gestures for you to come closer. You smile to yourself as you rest your head on his chest, his heart was beating quickly, still overwhelmed with the confessions.

Peter couldn’t believe that you reciprocated his feelings. He was now holding you in his arms with the knowledge that you wanted him the same way he wanted you. With you in his arms, it felt like the whole world had melted away and it was just the two of you. No outside world to call Peter to action or bother you. As he held you, he thought about how he was going to be the best boyfriend ever for you. He loved you with his whole heart and he’d make sure you felt loved and always had a smile on your face. He’d lay down his life for you because of all the love he held for you in his heart. He didn’t want to even imagine being with anyone else but you.

Peter Parker was well and truly in love with his best friend.

Correction. His girlfriend.

#justabigassnerd #justabigassnerd writes #peter parker #peter parker x reader #spiderman #peter parker x you #tasm peter parker #tasm peter parker x reader #tasm peter parker x you #tasm peter x reader #tasm!peter parker #tasm!peter x reader #andrew!peter angst #andrew garfield #andrew!spiderman #andrew!peter parker #andrew!peter x reader #tasm!peter x you #tasm!spiderman x reader #tasm!peter imagine #tasm!peter x y/n #tasm!peter fluff #tasm fic #the amazing spider man #the amazing spiderman #the amazing spiderman 2 #tasm 2

[deeg9]

Part II: Can we always be this close?

A 5x09 Spec Fic

Read and comment on AO3

Excerpt:

Lucy swayed her hips slowly from side to side and hummed along with the music as she flipped the last blueberry pancake onto a plate.

“Tamara!” She yelled over the song. “Pancakes are ready!”

Tamara came out of her room and slid noise-canceling headphones over her ears.

Lucy rolled her eyes and grabbed her phone to turn the music all the way down. A moment later, the bluetooth speaker beeped once to indicate it was powering off.

“Message received,” Lucy said, still basically shouting. “You can take those off.” 

It had been two weeks since that night in the parking garage with Tim. They hadn’t exchanged more than polite pleasantries and strained smiles in the days since and Lucy was struggling. 

Not just struggling… she was scared. 

Now that she knew Tim had feelings for her, it suddenly felt like she had everything to lose. Before the day of the bomb, she could shove her feelings aside and tell herself it was never going to happen. 

There was no risk in what couldn’t be, right? 

She’d told him she needed a little time and space, and he’d definitely given it to her. 

Now that he had the rotation coming up … it was like every day she could feel the distance grow another inch between them. What if she woke up one day and it was miles wide? Would they ever make up for the lost ground?

Tamara took the headphones off slowly, her eyes narrow. 

“It’s safe, I swear,” Lucy chuckled.

“Is it?” Tamara asked with a touch of sarcasm in her tone. “Does that mean you’re finally going to tell me why you’ve been acting so weird?”

“I’m just going through an adjustment period,” Lucy insisted, not for the first time. “It’s a temporary funk. I’ll be fine.”

“Uh huh,” Tamara nodded, her mouth full. She swallowed and tilted her head at Lucy. “I stopped by Tim’s last night so he could help me with the tire thing.”

Tamara twirled her hand in the air as she said it. Lucy’s pulse jumped at the mention of Tim’s name. 

“Oh, did you get that all taken care of then?” Lucy asked in what she hoped was a normal voice. 

“Yep,” Tamara said with a smile. “I may have mentioned you’ve been blasting Taylor Swift nonstop and at first he assumed you were listening to all her greatest breakup anthems because you dumped Chris and all.”

“Did he?” Lucy hummed, focusing on the pancake at the end of her fork instead of meeting Tamara’s gaze.

“So of course, I set him straight and told him you’re mostly playing one song on repeat and it isn’t even a breakup song.”

Tamara grinned, waiting for Lucy to contribute to the conversation. If you could call it that. Lucy had the sneaking suspicion it would end up being more of a lecture. 

“Did you?” She muttered, not sure how she felt about Tamara spending time with Tim if it meant her in-depth music listening habits were the topic of conversation. 

“And you know what’s crazy?” Tamara asked. “He guessed the song was New Year’s Day. Why do you think that is?”

“I might have played it in the shop once or twice when we were still riding together,” Lucy mumbled, looking everywhere but at Tamara.

Not that she needed to. She knew Tamara well enough to picture the expression on her face in her mind. It was smug and far too well-knowing for someone so young.

“He said it was a lucky guess,” Tamara added. 

“Sure, lucky.” Lucy quickly agreed. 

Tamara smiled and took another smug bite of her pancake...

Keep Reading

#read on ao3 #chenford #chenford fic #the rookie s5 #the rookie #spec fic #5x09 #the rookie 5x09 #tim x lucy #lucy x tim #aaron thorsen #nyla harper #slow burn

[littlekingbergara]

Anyway no more about the situation what are your favorite albums of all time

super appreciate the plural bc i could nottt choose one. how about like ten. these are NOT in any order i just love them so much. also limiting myself to one per artist for your sake.

britney spears's ...baby one more time goddamn i LOVE this album. her voice is soo beautiful and the sound is the perfect late 90s/early 2000s bubblegum pop vibe mixed with some of the most heartfelt songs youve ever heard. gorgeous gorgeous record.

chappell roan's the rise and fall of a midwest princess... obviously. i really truly feel like this album will go down as one of the Greatest pop records in history and it's so deserved ALONG WITH chappell as one of the most iconic performers. like she Literally has everything. party bops and crazy heartbreaking ballads and it translates SO well to a live show. my next record purchase as soon as i can decide between the deluxe or regular and im leaning heavyyyy toward the deluxe.

the regrettes' further joy. i had this on repeat when it came out!!! no skips it's so boppy and fun and thoughtful dreamy... i love it. would give anything to hear it live again but my signed vinyl will have to do. this album is like the music version of this emoji 💖 im so serious.

the cab's symphony soldier. have you ever... listened to this album. for one it's beautiful and two it's SUCH a fun vibe you can't not sing and dance and have so much fun. also yes i'm a spn fan ok move on.

waterparks' fandom. uhh relevant djfhdjdh. but for real it's such a stark and strong commentary on what fandom Is and parasocial relationships and how it feels to be trapped in a box because your fanbase won't let you grow as an artist and what it is to be so accessible to the public to the point where you have no control over yourself or your image. i love her deeply she tickles my brain so nicely and makes me think.

fletcher's you ruined new york city for me. it's an ep ok maybe i'm cheating but she tells the story of a whole album. i listened to this when i got dumped in nyc 🤪 so dramatic lmao. but really it's such a vulnerable breakup album that does so much in five songs. mostly make me sad.

5sos's youngblood. yeah i'm here have you LISTENED to this album??? the SOUNDS on that thing!!! it's like just the right amount of poppy and grungy and mature like... they really did something there.

harry styles debut ... controversial? honestly my favorite harry album changes prob every other week but something about his self titled is really doing it for me right now. it's an incredible body of work that introduces us to Harry Styles himself outside of one direction. i'm begging for a rockier album in the future from him bc the tastes of it we get on this record show he would just nail it.

paramore's after laughter. i swear this album made me feel alive in a way i didn't know i could feel. it's such a departure from their past work but it's still so genuine and true and you can't tell whether you're happy or sad or both or neither it's just everything to a bitch like me who can't confront her emotions dead on. and so so pretty.

carly rae jepsen's emotion.. right? how could it not be. pop perfection and that's all there is to it. the first record i bought before i even had a turntable.

extremely honorable mention to 5sos's the feeling of falling upwards. i didnt officially include it bc it's a live album but i love it so much it's so beautiful.

#idk about No More lmao but i'll talk music!! #anon #music #💌

[winterrhayle]

if you could remove five songs from 1989 and replace them with the vault tracks, what would they be and why?

i'm gonna do this but WITHOUT suburban legends because no 1989 song deserves to be replaced by that mess, sorrrry (i swear im not a hater i just think it's the worst song on the album)

also while i'm here i reordered the whole album hahahha

okayyy so here's my ideal version of 1989 (vaults are underlined)

new romantics - i think this is the ideal album opener, just because wtny isn’t really a well loved song when you take it out of the context of it being the first track of 1989 (even though i like it personally, its on the bottom half of mine and most peoples 1989 rankings) but new romantics still works bc it sounds like a song of new(romantic) beginnings, and its kinda the thesis statement of 1989,, about how the album is supposed to be super free and light hearted (also the intro of this song is so iconic and its perfect as a track 1)

blank space - im kinda trying to do this album somewhat chronologically, but also im trying to get the themes and production to flow,, blank space is a perfect track 2 bc it still sounds like a city track like new romantics, but it also sounds equally beach-y, and those are the 2 aesthetic elements of 1989 so its a good joint album intro. ALSO blank space gives u a good idea of how Taylor was seen at the time, as a dramatic serial-dater or whatever..,,, which leads me into track 4…

“slut!” - like i was saying,, blank space is about how she’s seen, and slut touches on the same topic of being slut shamed, but this time its about what SHE actually feels, and it flips it into being like,, its worth it bc i met this really cool guy aka:

(harry) style(s) - and this is the first sense of like. problems in the album, as in its pretty clear from this song that the mysterious guy she’s dating is not someone that she’s gonna last with,, also it gets us back into the city vibes smoothly bc the rerecord of this song has added sparkles which is reminiscent of the beach songs, but of course style overall is a city song so it flows well

wonderland - this is a perfect track 5 bc its a super emotional song that details the relationship + the breakdown of it, also its a BOP (y’all need to appreciate wonderland more)

out of the woods -🚨 BOP BOP BOP BOP BOP BOP🚨and like most of this albums its a lyrically sad bop and it fits with wonderland and explains the anxiety further

i know places - same purpose as ootw, it explains why the relationship was doomed from the start as its 2 very high profile people

say don’t go - fits chronologically, and talks abt how he didn’t love him back, and all he needed to do was not go,, (as in all he had to do was stay if u know what i mean)

this love - this love came back to me woahohoh (i think this is where it fits chronologically? where mr lover man comes back)

all you had to do was stay - she decided its too late to get back together tho RIP HAHA

now that we don’t talk - post break up realisations, lhh isn’t that amazing

wildest dreams - back to the beach rq, with a side of post-breakup mystique and i bet you think about me energy

clean - still keeping it beach-y, and now she’s clean from both the relationship, and the album booklet secret message is ‘she lost him, but she found herself, and somehow that was everything’ which is nice bc self love,, and she’s moved on , ALSO LINKS BACK TO THE ALBUM THEME OF FINDING URSELF

shake it off - ngl i put this here bc i think going from the emotional song clean to SHAKE IT OFF is funny, and every ts album needs a jumpscare at some point. but honestly this kinda fits thematically, because its talking about her persona like in blank space, but this time instead of leaning into it she’s shaking it offff and she’s clean (^) from the expectations to be what other people want or expect her to be. also its a fun song and brings up the energy for the home stretch of this longgggggg album

is it over now? - is it ever really over????????? NO (also i would consider this song to be a city and beach song because the AUUU HAAAAAAAAAA parts remind me of seagulls) alsooo if u loop it the ending of this song leads nicely into the intro of new romantics

deluxe edition :

16. you are in love - the deluxe is my excuse to put my QUEEEN you are in love on here bc it didnt fit anywhere

ik u probably intended for me to replace songs that have similar themes with their corresponding vault but theres so many songs that i just cant bear to take off😭 but heres the parallels anyway: blank space / slut, all you had to do was stay / say don't go, style / suburban legends, wildest dreams / is it over now?(this is a reach), now that we don't talk / idkkkk i cant really think of an equivalent

#u always send me these asks probably expecting a short answer #and literally anybody else would answer that in like a paragraph but i always have wayy too much going on in my head #asks #bea tag #taylor swift

[in-my-feels-probably]

Hi don’t know if you remember but I’ve requested something before and I absolutely loved it❤️ anyways I was wondering if you could write a Regulus Black x reader again lol inspired by Line without a hook by Ricky Montgomery. Please💙

Line Without a Hook

Request: Hi don’t know if you remember me but I’ve requested something before and I absolutely loved it. Anyways I was wondering if you could write a Regulus Black x reader inspired by Line without a hook by Ricky Montgomery. Please

Hi! I love this song so I was excited to write this for you, sorry it took me so long to respond. I’ve been writing a lot of angsty imagines recently that were really dramatic, and that’s partially because that’s how is see Regulus’s character, there’s a lot of angst potential for him and Sirius because of that, which is fun to write. But I thought it would be nice to write a more fluffy and lovey imagine for him, so I hope that’s ok with you. We’re gonna ignore the more toxic breakup parts of the song and interpret the lyrics as something more happy for this imagine because Regulus deserves it. I incorporated them some, but they’re just for backstory.

(Warnings: a little angsty, insecurities, quick mention of sex, let me know if i missed anything)

—

Yours and Regulus’s relationship had been on rocky grounds before. You both were very spirited and tempered people, and getting into fights was easier than not. It wasn’t the most healthy of relationships at times, but you made it work, growing together rather than apart. Regulus often said that you were the best thing that ever happened to him, a welcome distraction to his everyday life. He’d swear to protect you from it, like he couldn’t bear the thought of you getting hurt and it being his fault. Recently, your relationship was at a high, every day a pleasant one. 

“I don't really give a damn about the way you touch me, when we're alone. You can hold my hand if no one's home.”

He truly loved you, more than he’d ever loved anything in his entire life. He made sure every day that you were on good terms, that you were happy with him. For him, your relationship was never about anything physical, he didn’t care about sex or having you for your body. You were the most precious thing to him, and as far as he was concerned, you gracing him with your presence every day was more than enough. He was never ashamed to be seen with you, and flaunted you whenever he got the chance, proud of the fact that he got to be the one to see you when you were alone together.

“I broke all my bones that day I found you, crying at the lake. Was it something I said to make you feel like you're a burden? Oh, and if I could take it all back, I swear that I would pull you from the tide.”

He could be very sweet when he wanted to, but his words could also sting. He could be absolutely devastating with his insults, ripping into you in the heat of anger, and then immediately regretting it after when he simmered down. The last thing he wanted to do was hurt you, but sometimes he couldn’t help it. 

You remembered after a particularly nasty fight, at the lowest of your relationship, he found you down by the Black Lake. You were huddled on the bank, knees curled into your chest, tears streaming down your face. You heard his footsteps approaching, and you could tell it was him, but you didn’t turn around. 

His heart broke at the sight. Later that night, when he’d eventually convinced you to forgive him after profusely apologizing, he made you a promise, one he really did try his best to keep. 

“I’d rather break all the bones in my body than break your heart, Y/N,” he’d say. “Please don’t ever let me do that to you, talk to me instead, don’t run off.”

You nodded, holding him tight. You knew he was under immense stress with worries about his family, his relationship with Sirius, and his parents growing allegiance with the Dark Lord. You knew it was an internal battle for him to find the courage to do the right thing, and that when he snapped at you, he didn't really mean it. After that night, things started looking up. 

“...there is a tiny dancer watching over me, he's singing, ‘she's a, she's a lady, and I am just a boy.’ He's singing, ‘she's a, she's a lady, and I am just a line without a hook.’"

Sometimes he could get insecure. He thought lowly of himself, despite you telling him every day that there was nothing about him you’d change, that you loved him just the way he was. Over the years, you have conversation after conversation, trying to convince him that he was enough. And over time he really did start to believe it. He occasionally still had doubts. You were a safe haven for him, and he was so afraid of losing you.

He’d watch you when you fell asleep in his bed, seeing how calm you looked near him. He valued you so much and thought so highly of you, probably an unhealthy amount. ‘I’m just me,’ he’d think, as if that wasn’t good enough. 

You caught him staring one night, reaching a hand up to cup his cheek. “Stop thinking, Reg. I know you, I know that face. You’re working yourself up over nothing. I love you, and there’s nothing you can do to get me to change my mind. You’re stuck with me, whether you like it or not. Now lay down.”

He’d smiled softly looking down at you, leaning his face into your hand. He had brought a hand up to pull yours away from his face, pressing a kiss to your open palm. You giggled at the sensation, and his smile grew. He curled into your side, getting comfortable. 

“Your wish is my command, darling.”

“Baby, I am a wreck when I'm without you. I need you here to stay.”

Today, you only had a class in the morning, and you spent the rest of the afternoon into the evening taking some time to yourself, relaxing. Regulus, on the other hand, had a very busy schedule and day, trudging through it, counting down the minutes till he could come and see you, sure that you’d be able to melt all his troubles away.

You had been sitting outside in the courtyard on a blanket, reading and enjoying the nice weather, knowing autumn was coming and that it was going to get nasty outside. You heard a huff behind you, and turned to see Regulus, shoulders slumped. 

“Hi, my love, did you–oh!” He dropped all his belongings onto the blanket, dropping down and dramatically plopping his head into your lap. You put down your book, smiling fondly at him as you ran your fingers through his curls. He sighed contently at the feeling, shutting his eyes. 

“Did you have a good day?”

You could feel him nod his head. “It was tiring, but I’m better now,” he said, smirking up at you.

You rolled your eyes. “You’re so dramatic.”

“I’m being serious!” He laughed. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

You looked at him a moment, before leaning down and pressing your forehead against his. “And you won’t have to. I’m not going anywhere, not until you ask me to.”

“Never,” he responded quickly. “I am far too in love with you…and a little codependent, but that’s the small price to pay for you. I think I’m getting a pretty good deal.”

You hummed in agreement, pressing a kiss into his hair. “I love you. So much.”

“I love you, too.” He laced his free hand with yours, and you sat in silence, enjoying each other's company until the sun set. 

—

A/N - Hi! Sorry this is kind of short, I hope that’s ok and you liked it. 

#wattpad #harry potter #harry potter imagines #marauders #marauders imagine #regulus black x reader #regulus black imagine