#dropping some hints hehe

[naijawhims]

Following the life of the Judith Ward

[1driedpersimmon]

I just looked at your art and two brain cells connected- feel free to not answer this publicly if you’re keeping it stealth, but is saffron sesame and kaien’s kid from the future-

I will neither confirm nor deny this ;))

[esote-rika]

𝐈𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐞𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐇𝐢𝐬 𝐑𝐨𝐨𝐦 | 𝐒𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫 𝐑𝐞𝐢𝐝

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!BAU!Reader Category: Smut 18+ MDNI Summary: You have several (stereotypical) assumptions about your nerdy coworker; he proves how wrong you are about them. Content: 3.2k, early season dom!Spencer Reid, bratty reader, reader has hair that can be put in a ponytail, brat taming, BDSM dynamics, sensation play (feather tickler hehe), reader is ticklish, spanking, making out, thigh riding, coworkers hooking up (are we even fucking surprised), hopefully still soft and sweet and hot. a/n: Listen I know I keep saying I’m taking a break but unfortunately I’m ovulating HARD; this is the last one for May, but there will be a part 2, I’m already planning it. I wrote this completely piss drunk (my friends can probably share screenshots as proof oops) and then sobered up enough to edit (might have missed some stuff). Based on a request that Tumblr ate 😭 but basically, BAU reader teases Spencer about sex only to find out he's a kinky BDSM dom. Hope u enjoy!

“What would you know about BDSM?” The question, spoken with a carefree laugh and just a hint of condescension, is directed at your coworker, who is currently stirring copious amounts of sugar into his coffee beside you. 

Dressed in a tweed blazer that overwhelms his slight frame, Spencer Reid only tilts his head to the side, honey eyes keen and flashing with something you can’t quite place. You lean against the counter in the pantry, intrigued by his response. You’d expected a blush, chin tipping down, hair falling over his pretty eyes, lips uttering bashful, stuttering words. 

Not… this. Regarding you with a frank, unblinking calm that has you shifting in place.

“Oh, right,” you roll your eyes teasingly, unwilling to let him see how easily his nonplussed reaction has fractured your easygoing facade, “You’ve read about it extensively, haven’t you? What do psychology textbooks have to say about whips and blindfolds, Dr. Reid?”

“Quite a lot,” he replies with a serenity that unnerves, “Some attribute it to the feeling of being safely back inside the womb.”

You scoff, “Right, because thinking of your mother during bondage is so sexy.”

“But,” he presses on, narrowing his eyes at you, patient but warning, “There’s often explanations that go hand in hand with biology. Deprivation of one sense tends to heighten the other. Physical restriction offers the same feeling, which then leads to altered states of pleasure. In a more emotional sense, surrendering your power to a partner communicates the highest level of trust, offering a deeper sense of intimacy for some people.”

So he does know a lot about it. Still, you don’t drop your teasing grin as you reply, “God, how do you manage to make BDSM sound so clinical?”

“Because it is a little clinical, if I’m just explaining it in polite conversation. The communication is better enjoyed if the actions match.

“Is that so?”

“Mhm hmm,” he smiles, dimples flashing, a show of innocence. A mask. 

“And this information is from experience?” you tease.

“Wouldn’t you like to know.”

His tone carries implication and it settles upon your stomach, heavy and warm. That makes you perk up, but you fight the urge to show your intrigue. Instead, you scoff, “As if there’s anything to know.”

He’s quiet. Sipping at his coffee, honey eyes twinkling over the rim of his mug. It’s infuriating.

“No way.” you huff, finally breaking. The lightness of teasing leaves your voice, shifting to something darker, more accusatory, “You expect me to believe you have experience? In BDSM?” 

“Announce it to the entire office, why don’t you?”

You pause, looking at him almost in betrayal. Really, how could you not? Spencer Reid, who looks like his nose would start bleeding from the slightest sexual attention from a living, breathing person, has BDSM experience? The man who wears sweater vests and slicks his hair back like he’s a seventy year old librarian? You survey him today, in all of his rumpled, mismatched glory, trying to find one hint of his apparent favored pastimes.

He looks almost smug as he meets your gaze, cocking his head to the side.

“No way.” you repeat.

“You possess an awfully limited vocabulary for today.” 

“Shut up, stop pulling my leg,” your eyes narrow suspiciously, still in disbelief. 

“I’m not pulling your leg,” he says, allowing a small, almost imperceptible smirk to curve up his lips for one split second, before his face gets hidden by the coffee cup again.

“Prove it, then.” 

The words startle both of you, but you’re stubborn enough to see it through. Meeting his gaze with a confidence that would seem sincere to the untrained eye, but Spencer has worked with you long enough to know it’s all bravado. 

He looks at you, unsure. “Prove it?”

“Look who's vocabulary is limited now.”

He scoffs and lowers his voice, “I just want to make sure you know what you’re getting into.”

“I know what I’m getting into, I’m a grown woman, thanks.” 

“Then I’ll fax you a copy of my rules. If they still seem like something you’d want to try out, come to my apartment Saturday night—that is, if we aren’t called in for a case.”

You shrug, the perfect picture of nonchalance. “Great, sounds like a plan. Don’t forget to fax.” You both know he wouldn’t.

By some universal twist of fate, that Saturday is devoid of any last minute cases. You spend the whole morning poring over the sixteen-page document that Spencer had sent over on Friday, reading through the risks—a lot of which you already know from your own research—his specific set of rules, and what he’d normally allow for a beginner. You don’t have the same perfect memory he does, but you’re sure you’ve memorized everything by the time you knock at his apartment.

“So you came,” he says, offering you a cool glass of lemonade, looking perfectly at ease as he leads you into his bedroom. 

“Of course,” you say, looking around as you sip on the drink, taking it all in, “I was serious when I said prove it.” It’s dim, but nothing else is inside that rouses suspicion. It looks completely normal—a neat bed, a messy desk, haphazard piles of books—until your eyes land on the items on the dresser. 

Silk ties. A paddle. Something that looks similar to a feather duster, but you assume it’s made with a different activity in mind. Your cheeks are aflame.

“You know the safe word?”

“Yes. Jupiter—you’re such a nerd, by the way.”

He laughs, taking you half finished glass and setting it down. “Do you have any objections to the terms I’d laid out? Additions?”

“I just need you to make a promise.”

“For what?”

“That this stays between us.” You face him, searching his eyes for any deceit. It’s always a risk, being a woman and engaging in anything that could be considered deviant, especially in an environment like the BAU, which is honestly a glorified boy’s club.

“You have my word. Everything that we do stays in this room.” he vows, stepping closer.

“And,” you bite your lip, “No sex, right?”

He shakes his head, “None. We’ll focus on sensations tonight, just to let you get a feel for things.”

It seems more intimate, just trusting him to tease and play with your body, but you’re glad that the boundary is set in place. Spencer seems to have gotten a lot of experience at this, and briefly, you wonder just how many other people has been in your place.

You push the thought away and smile at him. “Okay. Then that’s all on my end. I accept all your terms, and I remember the safe word.”

He hums, turning you around. Standing so closely behind you, his heat warms your back like a gentle fire. Long, elegant fingers that carry the lingering musk of old books and coffee gather your hair into a ponytail at the base of your neck. He secures it with a thin elastic, before leaning in, breath whispering goosebumps into your skin. 

“Strip.”

There’s a sudden loss of heat as he steps back. You’re surprised to miss it, already, but even more surprised by his command. “What?”

“I said strip, angel.” he says, walking to your front with an expectant look on his face, “Down to your underwear.”

You sputter, looking up at him incredulously, but his face is serious. Patient, but serious.

“Do you need your safe word?”

You don’t reply, realizing that it’s begun and this is exactly what you agreed to do. To submit to him and his commands. The weight of this reality sinks in, rendering you mute and frozen, and he immediately softens. 

Hands cupping your cheeks, Spencer looks at you with concern, “Hey, we can stop.”

“No,” you reply, forcefully. Stubborn pride pulsing through your veins—no way you’re stopping before you’ve even done anything, “I don’t want to stop, it’s okay. I just—okay. Strip.” you step back, nodding and muttering to yourself, “Okay, yes, I can do that.” Looking down, you fumble at the buttons of your blouse, undoing them with clumsy, unsure fingers.

He steps back to the dresser, retrieving the bundle of feathers, never averting his gaze. Wide brown eyes take you in as you lose your shirt, and then your pants, standing before him in matching lace underwear. A slow grin spreads over his lips, “You dressed up for me?”

You feel your cheeks burn, “No.”

“So you just wear expensive lace sets for no reason, even on Saturdays?”

“You don’t know what I like.”

A step closer, “I’m about to,” he says in a low, smug tone that has your breath catching, “Stay still.”

Stay still. Easy enough. Your eyes follow his movements, the way he brandishes the feathers in his hands. Your head cranes back as he circles you, and he tuts in disapproval.

“I said stay still,” he murmurs, hand cupping your jaw and adjusting your head forward.

“But—”

“But?” 

“Nothing.” you squeak as you look ahead again. Your heart makes itself known, drumming in an exaggerated, hurried way that makes you want to shift. But Spencer said stay still, so you do.

A small part of you wants to scoff—why are you following Spencer Reid’s orders? This is ridiculous. Say the safe word and this would all be over. He’d never mention it to anyone else, like you both agreed earlier. You can get out, and you know for a fact that Spencer wouldn’t judge or protest.

But you don’t.

Because a larger, more significant part of you finds this whole thing incredibly hot.

Several seconds pass. Agonizingly slow. He’s drawing it out, you realize, testing how long he can get you to stay still. Or maybe he left. No, he wouldn’t—couldn’t, you’d hear his footsteps.  Finally giving in, you look over your shoulder, brows knitted in confusion.

You’re met with a disapproving look and a shaking head. “Didn’t I tell you to stay still?”

“You’re taking too long,” you pout.

“That’s the second time you’ve disobeyed me, angel,” he tuts. The heat of his body envelops you as he steps into your space again, his chest pressing to your back. A hand skims over your side, warm and firm as it finds the swell of your hip, and sits there. A warning. “You know what’s going to happen when you do it thrice, don’t you?”

Your mind flashes back to the conversation and the list, the rules he laid out so painstakingly for you. Thoughtful and attentive, Spencer had made you read through pages of what he expects from this dynamic, the rules you must follow as his submissive, the punishment that will be enforced should you disobey.

Three strikes and you get spanked.

“I do,” your words drift out the most delicate breath, heart hammering even more now. “I remember.”

He hums when you are finally still. Lips land on your bare shoulder, chaste and warm, while his hand travels up your side, featherlight and teasing. They skim up your ribcage and you can’t help but gasp, fighting every cell in your body to keep from moving. Your compliance is rewarded by another satisfied hum, and then finally it touches you. 

The feather. 

Crawling up the back of your left thigh, soft as a whisper. 

Ticklish.

“Fuck,” you gasp, jerking away from his grasp in surprise. You find yourself missing the feel of his hand on your waist before you realize your mistake. 

“That’s the third.” he says, shaking his head.

“I wasn’t expecting it on my thigh!” you snap, suddenly feeling so exposed. To shield yourself, your arms cross over your shoulder defensively, voice lowering by way of apology, “I’m ticklish!”

He considers it for a moment, sitting on the edge of the bed, but his eyes remain trained on you. Gauging your reaction, the same way he’d talk to a skittish witness. You find yourself shifting again, unused to being on the receiving end of such a stare. When he speaks, his voice is calm, as if he’s soothing a ruffled creature, “You’re welcome to say your safe word.” 

The easy way out. But you’ve already gone this far, stripped out of your so-called armor, down to your lace underwear and allowed him to regard you in ways far too intimate for coworkers. It would be such a waste to back out now. Besides, he said the punishment would just be spanking, how bad could that be?

“No,” you reply finally, voice breaking through the silence that settled and swelled in the room, “No, I’m okay, I’ll—I’ll take the punishment, like I agreed to.”

He sits up straighter, “Are you sure?”

A gulp. “Yes.”

He pats his lap, “Come here then.”

You’ve lost count of how many times you felt warmth at your cheeks, but this feels like a wildfire has started now, smoothing over your face before spreading all over your body in an all consuming blaze. Flashes of those kinky magazines and news articles you’d rolled your eyes over flit through your mind, the models now replaced by the image of you and Spencer. He’s asking you to bend over on his lap to receive your punishment.

With a nod, you join him on the bed, your torso draping horizontally over his lap. Your legs are laid on the bed, and you hold yourself up by your elbows. From this position, he has perfect access to your ass, a large hand smoothing over one cheek. 

You squirm, “Your hand’s cold.” 

He laughs, “God, you never stop complaining, huh? I should add another one just for that.”

“Sorry, I can’t help it.”

He sighs, “I know. You’re doing fine, all things considered. I’ll just do three, okay? For every time you moved.”

“Okay.”

“I want you to count.”

You inhale so sharply you almost choke on nothing. That had no business being as hot as you found it. His hand is on your ass again, and you have to dig into your brain to focus and answer, “Okay.”

The first strike comes quickly, a sharp sting followed by a cool, gentle hand soothing over it. You exhale a gasp along with the word, “One.”

“Good girl.”

Jesus Christ.

Another smack, this time on the other cheek. “Two… three.”

It’s over before you know it, barely even lasting three minutes, but it’s still managed to take your every breath away. You find yourself wishing he had added another strike, just so you could feel the sharp sting again. 

“Are you okay?” his voice pulls you from your reverie, hands helping you sit back up beside him, “Do you need a break? I could get you some lotion—”

You tune him out, staring as he offers different ways to soothe the stinging. His hands keep making lazy strokes up and down your arms, eyes completely focused on you. Words are flying past his lips, attempting to reach you through this haze, solutions and probably another reminder of your safe word, but all you can think about is how close he is, how pretty with his earnest brown eyes and pouty lips, but also how hot and since when was Spencer Reid hot? 

A familiar sensation settles low in your belly, slickness between your thighs, and oh my god you just want to kiss him.

So you do.

His lips are soft, pausing mid sentence for just one moment, before he’s kissing you right back, open mouthed and desperate, his hand cradling the back of your head, tilting it up so his tongue can dive deeper into your mouth. You moan, kissing him back with just as much fervor, scrambling forward in an attempt to get even closer. He tastes like mint and cinnamon, the oddest combination that has you sucking on his bottom lip, eager for more.

An arm wraps around your waist, and you find yourself on his lap again—no, on his thigh. Singular, straddling it with nothing but a tiny scrap of lace and his trousers in between your skin. Two degrees of separation. You moan again, biting down hard.

“Wait,” he pulls back, breathless, thrown off, “Wait this isn’t part of the agreement.”

You laugh, “I’m sorry, I don’t really care about it right now.”

Soft brown locks tickle your jaw as he ducks his head. Lips run over your collar, moist and gentle as he speaks, “I wasn’t really prepared for this. I don’t have a condom.”

“Oh.” you seem to deflate in his arms, despite the incessant pounding in your chest, the buzzing at your fingertips.

He looks up, surveys you like a puzzle to be solved. On his thigh, with barely anything on, practically throwing yourself at him. Muscle flexes and shifts beneath you, eliciting a gasp from your lips. It moves again, just as his hands hold onto your hips and keep you in place. 

Your lips fall open, “Oh.” you repeat, but this time, it’s a low, breathy moan. 

“That’s it,” he murmurs, watching you with a small smirk, “Move those hips for me, angel.”

You don’t need to be told twice, pressing down hard onto his thigh. The pressure gives your clit enough stimulation, pulling another moan from your lips. Louder this time. Loud and pretty, as his hands keep you steady, and your arms wrap around his shoulder, fingers finding the hair at the nape of his neck.

“Oh god,” you gasp, staring right at him, at those intense hazel eyes that have turned nearly black. You ride his thigh shamelessly, finding a rhythm that you know will have the pleasure snapping within minutes. Paired with Spencer’s praise, the sweet kisses he’s laying on your jaw, you find yourself trembling in his arms as you rub yourself along his muscular thigh. 

All of the anticipation seems to have built up to a fever pitch, his teasing, the spanking, it all floods back until your orgasm hits you like lightning. Razor sharp, every nerve of your body seems to sing and tremble from pleasure as Spencer keeps his thigh gently moving, helping you come down from your high. 

“Fuck,” you whisper, burying your face into his neck. 

He laughs, wrapping his arms tightly around you, “Are you okay?”

“Better than okay.”

Slender fingers card through the back of your head, tangles into your hair, “You did really well. We went a little off script, but it seems like you found it pleasurable, which is always the goal.”

Pleasurable is the understatement of the century, but your only response is a breathless chuckle. At the moment, that’s all you’re capable of. 

“Okay,” you whisper into his neck, losing all ability to extricate yourself from him. He doesn’t seem to mind though, his hold on you just as tight, free hand rubbing warm circles over your bare back. “Okay, you’ve proved your point. You seriously are a dom.”

“Mhm.”

“I can’t believe it.”

“What? You can’t believe it? I literally just gave you one of the most hands on demonstrations anyone could ask for.” he says with a laugh. It rumbles through his chest, and the feeling makes something in your stomach clench pleasantly. 

You lift your head, finally meeting his gaze. Your eyes flash with mischief when you reply, “I don’t know, I might need another one to fully understand it.”

He smiles back, wide and catlike, “Well then, I think that calls for an encore.”

Thank you for reading!!! also if you could give me some encouragement for my thesis that’d be much appreciated i’d give you so much brain kisses MUAH.

[acrosstheujiverse]

About Last Night…

【📂】 summary: every time you drink with choi seungcheol, you ask the same question—“what do you think of me?”—and every time, he laughs it off with a smile and calls you his precious friend. you pretend it doesn’t hurt. but after one blurry night that you can’t quite remember, everything starts to shift. he looks at you differently. lingers longer. and maybe, just maybe, he’s been waiting for you to ask him the same question—sober. 【🖇️】 pairing: oblivious!seungcheol x flustered!reader. 【💿】 genre: friends to lovers, slow burn, FLUFF (with emotional tension). 【🧺】 tags: mutual pining; drinking; drunken confessions; drunken kiss; teasing; soft angst; idiots in love; DIMPLES; (slight) jealousy. 【📦】 w/c: 2.4k+

📬 — author’s note ！i wrote this back in 2022 (11.05) and i'm FINALLY releasing it. °՞(ᗒ╭╮ᗕ)՞°

« main masterlist | (SOON) »

୨:୧┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈ · · ┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈୨:୧

୨:୧┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈ · · ┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈୨:୧

“earth to (y/n)~” 

you were staring again.

“if you stare any harder, he might catch on fire.”

hands cupped around your face, elbows resting on the cafeteria table, gaze glued to the boy sitting across from you.

“is this some kind of psychic courtship ritual?”

choi seungcheol.

your crush. your classmate. your friend. the worst combination of all three.

he was lazily spinning his drink bottle between his hands, distracted, and completely unaware that your brain was currently running a highlight reel of all the ways you had accidentally—but very much wholeheartedly—fallen in love with him.

he was good at everything: basketball, speeches, essays, leading your class like it was second nature. he was sharp, reliable, annoyingly handsome, and then, to balance it all out, he also whined like a toddler when he was hungry and sulked when someone beat him at cards.

he was so full of contradictions, so good at getting under your skin, and so stupidly oblivious to your feelings.

... or maybe he wasn’t. maybe he knew. but if he did, he sure as hell never acted on it.

“i swear, the way you look at him... if he doesn’t get the hint soon, i will start drawing hearts in his notebook for you.”

“shht–! don’t jinx it, jeonghan!” 

jeonghan’s words finally pulled you out of your trance.

you blinked, cheeks warming, and sat up straighter.

he chuckled, shaking his head like he couldn’t believe you, then let out a long, dramatic sigh. “why do i feel like i’m the third wheel here?”

you always picked him first for group projects. always sat beside him at lunch.

always ended up next to him during class outings, festivals, dinners, parties.

it wasn’t even a conscious choice anymore. it just happened.

people had started teasing you about it. you always brushed it off with a laugh—blaming familiarity, comfort, convenience. anything but the truth.

but the truth followed you anyway—especially when you drank.

୨:୧┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈ · · ┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈୨:୧

your hangout tradition with seungcheol was sacred. casual, cozy, and dangerously routine. cheap drinks, shared snacks, music humming low in the background, conversations that dipped in and out of serious and silly.

and every time you drank together, the same thing happened.

“cheol,” you slurred, cheeks warm, breath just a little too quick, “what do you think of me? do you... have feelings for me?”

you always asked that question. like clockwork.

and he always answered the same way. voice syrupy-sweet, tipsy grin stretching across his face.

“my (y/n)-ieee~ you’re a very precious friend of mine. i like you sooo much. my friend~ hehe.”

you wanted to scream.

friend. precious, sure. but friend.

you groaned, dropping your head onto the table. he flashed you those dimples — his signature, unfair, heart-ruining dimples.

those damn dimples. i should’ve brought shades so i wouldn’t have to see them, you thought, bitter and foggy.

“ugh. again?” jeonghan’s voice filtered in, dry and unsurprised.

he dropped into the seat beside you with all the ease of someone flipping open a well-worn book. he didn’t even bother pretending to be surprised anymore.

“jeonghaaan,” you mumbled, half-whine, half-sob. “i’m losing my mind…”

“you’re losing your liver first,” he said, plucking the drink from your hand like a babysitter. “and for what? the same damn heartbreak on loop?”

“well. i’m not gonna argue with a drunk person,” he added, patting your head like a tired cat. “but honestly, (y/n)... you do this every time.”

you turned your face slightly to glare up at him with bleary eyes. “’s not like i plan it…”

“but you do it,” he said, gently. “like muscle memory.”

you blinked slowly, words swimming. “maybe if he knew… maybe… maybe then…”

“what? he’d suddenly realize he loves you back?” jeonghan asked, not unkindly.

you winced. “that’s mean…”

“it’s honest,” he said. “and i’m saying it now while you’re too drunk to remember how mad it made you.”

you opened your mouth to argue, but the door opened.

familiar laughter. light, effortless.

your body stiffened. even drunk, even dulled, your senses still caught her the way a wound catches salt.

“uh-oh,” jeonghan muttered under his breath, sipping his drink like it was tea. “she’s here.”

younghee.

seungcheol’s childhood friend. the other person he was close to—so close it made something in your chest twist.

she breezed in like she owned the air around her, sliding into the seat beside him as if it were hers. her arm looped around his like it belonged there. her head rested easily on his shoulder.

he didn’t flinch. didn’t move away. just smiled—those dimples again—and let her stay.

your stomach twisted.

you told yourself it was fine. they were practically siblings. they'd known each other forever.

but she didn’t act like a sibling.

she touched him like it meant something. whispered things that made him laugh. she always knew where to stand, where to lean, how to fold herself into his space.

and the worst part? he let her.

he looked happy.

and it made you feel ridiculous. childish. petty.

but the jealousy still bubbled up anyway, thick and sour.

jeonghan followed your gaze, then sighed like this was his personal soap opera. “you really know how to pick a time for your breakdowns.”

“sh-she’s… so close,” you muttered, slumping further down into the table, as if it might swallow you whole.

“they grew up together,” jeonghan reminded you gently. “she’s always like that with him. it doesn’t mean—”

“i know,” you said, too quickly. too loud.

you winced at yourself, then tightened your grip on the edge of the table. “i know that. but…”

but you hated how easy it was for her. how she never had to wonder what she meant to him. how she wasn’t you.

“i feel like a joke,” you whispered.

jeonghan didn’t respond. didn’t need to. he just stayed beside you, one hand resting on your back. steady. quiet. there.

and across the table, seungcheol smiled like nothing had changed.

୨:୧┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈ · · ┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈୨:୧

jeonghan spotted you the moment he walked into the bar.

he didn’t even try to hold it in.

“oh, no way,” he laughed, loud enough for three tables to turn. “you’re actually wearing them.”

you didn’t look up. just raised your drink and sipped like nothing was out of the ordinary.

he slid into the booth across from you, eyes gleaming. “indoors, (y/n)? really? in public?”

“i’m committed,” you said coolly, pushing your sunglasses higher up the bridge of your nose.

“to being a menace?”

“to my healing.”

he snorted. “sure. healing from what? weaponized dimples?”

you didn’t respond—mostly because he was absolutely right.

and then, like fate had a sense of humor, seungcheol arrived. he placed his drink on the table, looked between the two of you, and paused.

“(y/n)... why are you wearing sunglasses? we’re indoors.”

you didn’t flinch. didn’t even blink. you simply pushed the frames higher up the bridge of your nose, silent.

he blinked at you, waiting.

you stared straight ahead, lips pressed into a flat line.

i shall never see those dimples of his ever again, you thought firmly. they’re simply too dangerous. i can’t take any chances. i might fall for him again… and again… and again.

he tilted his head, a lazy smile tugging at his lips. “you seriously not gonna answer?”

“they’re prescription,” you said flatly.

“prescription sunglasses?”

you shrugged. “light sensitivity.”

jeonghan snorted so loudly he nearly choked on his own spit. you kicked him under the table. he doubled over, wheezing.

“worth it,” he coughed, wiping a fake tear from his eye. “you’re so dramatic. god, it’s inspiring.”

seungcheol just laughed, flicking your forehead. “you’re unbelievable.”

“i’m a survivor,” you muttered. “barely.”

and like every other night before this one, you sank back into the comfort of routine.

still too scared to shatter it.

still too scared to see what might be waiting if you did.

୨:୧┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈ · · ┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈୨:୧

you cursed jeonghan silently as you stared at your phone.

jeonghan🍻: hey, i’m gonna have to bail tonight. not feeling great. sorry, (y/n).

you frowned but said nothing.

across the table, seungcheol picked up his phone, unlocking it without thinking. the group chat was open.

he cleared his throat and read aloud, amused: “‘guys, seriously sick. gonna crash early. no hangout for me.’”

you glanced at the screen just as seungcheol scrolled. the next messages appeared:

seungcheol🍒: dude, you ok? feel better soon. jeonghan🍻: thanks man. (y/n), you owe me one ;)

jeonghan always hated missing your hangouts—but he hated your tortured heart even more.

and you were certain: he bailed tonight on purpose.

to give you space. to give you a sign. to push you, silently, toward the confession you kept holding back.

you rolled your eyes, lips twitching at the thought of his sneaky little plan.

seungcheol looked up, flashing that lazy smile, dimples and all.

“guess it’s just us then.”

you nodded, heart thudding, knowing tonight wouldn’t be like any other night before.

a few drinks in, you settled into the booth beside him, closer than usual. your knees brushed under the table, a quiet spark passing between you. your hand hovered near his, fingers twitching, until your pinky grazed his. once. twice.

on the third touch, your finger lingered.

his eyes found yours—steady, patient. you held his gaze.

“i think i’m gonna kiss you,” you breathed, voice barely louder than the music.

his breath caught too.

no laughter. no teasing. only a quiet, “then do it.”

your lips met clumsily, soft and short. a spark ignited—something crackled beneath your skin.

your heartbeat thundered in your ears.

instead of pulling away, your eyelids grew heavy. your head tilted, settling gently against seungcheol’s shoulder.

he let out a faint chuckle, warm and quiet, as you slowly slipped into sleep.

his fingers found yours under the table, squeezing softly, like he didn’t want to disturb the fragile moment.

“sleep tight, (y/n),” he whispered.

୨:୧┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈ · · ┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈୨:୧

you woke up the next morning with a pounding headache and one vivid flash burning behind your eyelids—the kiss.

your phone buzzed sharply against the table.

seungcheol🍒: we’re still on tonight, right? usual spot.

you stared at the screen, heart pounding. panic bloomed in your chest.

was it real? or just a drunken dream?

“ughhh,” you groaned, running a hand through your hair. “why don’t i remember?! this can’t be happening!”

you promised yourself you’d stay sober.

but one drink turned into two. the two became three. and somewhere in the blur of warm lights and soft laughter, you asked again, voice barely steady: “cheol… what do you think of me?”

he tilted his head, eyes amused but serious. “you always ask me that.”

you blinked, confused. “what?”

“every time we drink,” he said, voice low. “you ask me that question.”

your heart skipped a beat. “and you always say the same thing.”

he smiled, but it was small. almost sad. “do i?”

you stared at him, desperate. “cheol…”

then a flicker of mischief crossed his face—a smirk just barely there—and you pointed at him, eyes wide. “YAH—CHOI SEUNGCHEOL!! you remember something, don’t you?!”

“maybe.”

you rolled your eyes. “i hate you.”

“no, you don’t.”

୨:୧┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈ · · ┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈୨:୧

you were already seated when he walked in—library quiet, sun warm across your table. he waved at you, dropped his bag into the chair across from yours, and settled in like it was routine. like this was just another afternoon.

his phone buzzed.

he glanced down, smiled faintly, and picked it up. “hey, younghee. yeah, no, i can’t today. rain check?”

a pause.

“mhm. okay. take care, kid.”

he hung up, set his phone down, and turned back to you.

your expression must’ve betrayed you—because something in his eyes changed. softened. sharpened. knowing.

“what?” he asked.

you shook your head. “nothing.”

he tilted his head. “you’ve always been weird about her.”

“i’m not—”

“you are,” he said, without judgment. “and it’s okay.”

you stayed quiet, unsure if denying it again would make it worse.

“she’s like family to me,” he continued. “like a little sister. not someone i’ve ever liked like that. not even close.”

your breath stalled.

“but you…” he looked at you then, really looked. “you’re not like that.”

you blinked.

“just wanted you to know,” he said softly. “i figured maybe that’s something you needed to hear before anything else.”

the warmth in your chest spread slowly.

quiet. certain.

you nodded. “thank you.”

he smiled.

“now,” he said, leaning back, “wasn’t there something you wanted to ask me?”

and so you did. “cheol?”

“yeah?”

you took a breath. “what do you think of me?”

he set his pen down. leaned back. looked at you fully. “don’t ask me again unless you want the truth.”

your heart skipped. “…i do.”

his smile was soft, almost shy—but it didn’t waver. “then here it is: i’ve been falling for you for a long time.”

your fingers trembled slightly on the table, still curled around your iced coffee. your heartbeat was wild in your chest.

he wasn’t teasing. wasn’t hiding behind dimples or laughter.

just him.

and his answer.

“you’re not drunk, right?” you whispered.

“not even a sip.”

you nodded slowly. “good.”

“you okay?” he asked.

“yeah.” you let out a shaky smile. “just... kinda hard to believe i’m not imagining this.”

his hand brushed over yours, warm and steady. “you’re not imagining it.”

you laughed under your breath. “can i say something embarrassing?”

“please do.”

“i’ve liked you for so long it stopped feeling like a crush. it was just... you. always you. all the time. everywhere.”

his grip tightened gently. “you think that’s embarrassing?”

you looked up. “it’s not?”

“(y/n)...” he leaned in. “i’ve been waiting for you to ask me sober.”

you blinked.

he smiled. “you asked so many times when you were tipsy. i wanted to answer differently. but i didn’t want you to forget.”

“i’m not gonna forget this time,” you said, voice steady.

“good.”

and then—finally—he kissed you.

not clumsy. not rushed. not a maybe.

his lips found yours with quiet certainty. it was soft, slow, but deepened like gravity had always been pulling you toward this moment.

your fingers curled into the sleeve of his hoodie. his hand cupped the back of your neck.

and when he pulled back, just barely, his voice dropped: “no more pretending, okay?”

you smiled.

“okay.”

- fin.

[...epilogue]

[ssahotchnerr]

Could you write something where someone compliments Hotch for "babysitting" and "helping out" when hes out with his kids and he gets all 😑😑 do you mean parenting my children?

standard parenting

omg LOL cw; dad!aaron, reader is referred to as mom, a ton of domestic fluff, very light suggestiveness (hehe reader and aaron are soo in love <3) wc; 1.2k

"Jack." Aaron moved forward, spotting his son as he climbed up a curved ladder, at the ready if he were to suddenly slip. "Careful."

"I am." He took the last, big step, his hands gripping the supporting bars and landing on the platform safely. "I've done this two times already Dad."

"Help your sister down the slide, okay? I'll meet the two of you at the bottom."

"Okay." He confirmed, beelining down a rattly bridge in the direction of Ellie.

It was approximately 3 pm on a Tuesday, the park filled with the afternoon rush of children freshly out of school. A doctor's appointment had brought Aaron out of the BAU early, and after picking up Jack from school, Ellie from preschool, he figured there was no better way to burn off energy than the playground.

Hopefully it allowed for a quiet, relaxing night at home, with both kids in bed at a decent time.

Aaron stood at the bottom of the slide, peering upwards and squinting - he had regretfully left his sunglasses in the car. Ellie stood at the top, looking a bit lost once her turn was next, the slide intimidatingly large for a newly four-year-old.

"Jack's coming, honey."

It took some convincing; Aaron reassuring her he was right there, there to catch her if she overshot into the mulch. Jack would be right behind her. Further hesitation on her end: Do you want Jack to go first? No. Are you sure you want to go down? Yes.

Finally down came Ellie, giggling profusely and not paying a mind to the static the slide caused (Aaron mentally winced at the sound). Jack followed soon after.

"See, there you go." Aaron praised, hands moving to his hips.

"Again, please please please." Ellie whined gently, looking up at Aaron with her identically adjacent brown eyes. It was something she was beginning to master, the puppy dog look that could cause him to cave within seconds.

He was in for it.

"Sure pumpkin." Aaron grinned down at his little piggy-tail headed daughter. "Just a few more times though, Mom's waiting at home."

"C'mon Ellie. I'll race you." Jack suggested, kicking up dirt as he bolted off without waiting for a distinct answer. She ran after him, as fast as her small legs could carry her.

Aaron called out after him, "The stairs, Jack."

"I know!"

"Cute kids."

A mother - Aaron inferred - commented, falling alongside him. Aaron's eyes continued to track the two of them, ensuring they remained together and stayed far away from any arched ladders. They dashed up the stairs, into the depths of the play structure.

Aaron offered her a friendly smile in return, "Thank you."

"It's nice to see someone so attentive for a change." She huffed, notably an impressed breath. "Most babysitters just sit on the bench on their cell phone."

Aaron's expression dropped; a mix of confusion and dumbfound, his smile gradually fading. The only thing going through his mind: I'm sorry, what?

"Well, I'm not like most babysitters." He frowned, pressing his lips together and eyebrows drawing into a line.

"Good for you." She commended, not taking the hint. A child called out to her, causing her to move forward. "See ya."

She left, but scowl on his face stayed.

It hadn't put him in a bad mood, but rather, a dulled mood. The inference could've been an honest mistake, it most likely was, but it settled funny within him.

Only at Ellie's, 'Daddy look!' did his face brighten up. For them.

-

"Hi Momma!" Ellie bounded into the kitchen, nearly crashing into you and smiling from ear to ear. "We're home!"

Jack added to her status report, voices intertwining. "Dad took us to the park!"

"It looks like you two had fun." You grinned, using the pad of your thumb to swipe away an unblended bout of sunscreen on the side of Jack's nose. You also took note of his grass stained sweats, and the dirt scuff on Ellie's knees.

"We did! Jackers helped me down the slide and Daddy pushed me on the swings-"

"No one pushed me on the swings." Aaron commented, his hand finding the small of your back momentarily as he brushed past.

"That's 'cause you're big." Ellie made a face at her father.

"Can we go again on Saturday?" Jack asked, "I wanna bring my soccer ball."

"We'll have to see what we're up to, bud," Aaron answered, also fetching him a cup of cold water. The car ride consisted of Jack stating how thirsty he was, and how he refused to drink the lukewarm water his bottle held. "But I don't see why not."

Meanwhile, Ellie plopped herself onto the floor, pulling off her shoes and dumping the remnants of lingering mulch onto the floor.

"Hey hey hey let's not do that." You said, your nose scrunching lightly too; the normal kid-stink that followed after an afternoon spent in the sun. "And baths, both of you. Go on, I'll be there in a second."

Ellie's voice carried as she ventured up, something along the lines of bringing her mermaid Barbie in the tub with her. You ruffled Jack's hair gently as he passed, pressing a kiss to his sweaty head.

"You know what someone said to me today?" Aaron asked, turning towards the sink to wash his hands.

"Aren't you forgetting something first?"

He stopped, a knowing smile forming on his face. "How dare I."

Aaron moved forward, hands finding your waist to pull you near, placing his lips onto yours for a few seconds. Albeit how short it was, you savored it; coming home after a long, long day.

Satisfied, "Enlighten me."

He paused to actually wash his hands, flicking the water droplets off once he finished. You tossed him the hand towel that happened to be nearby.

"Someone mistook me for a babysitter."

"What?" You snorted out a laugh.

"Left me speechless." He exasperatedly rolled his eyes, wiping his hands and throwing the towel back onto the counter. "Can you believe that?"

"Well, you know how some people can be." You shrugged. Your statement wasn't much help, but what could you do.

"Oblivious?"

"What prompted it?"

"Standard parenting. I was simply keeping a close eye. The slide made Ellie nervous, Jack was being a bit adventurous today, and the playground itself was a nightmare. Everyone had the same idea I did, it was packed."

You hummed in response, dumping the neglected water from Jack and Ellie's water bottles out. Aaron continued to ramble on.

"And she saw the two of them. Jack - he resembles Haley a bit more, sure. But Ellie?"

"Your twin."

"Exactly." Aaron scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest. "Babysitter. How in the world does that title come to mind before Dad?"

He shook his head as his eyes found the ceiling; utter disbelief.

"You know," you raised an eyebrow, regaining his focus, "you're hot when you're fired up."

"Am I?" Aaron smirked, pulling you in again just as he did before, arm winding behind your back.

"Mom!"

A whine drifted from upstairs, Aaron pulled away from your lips with a comically heavy, defeated sigh.

You shoved him at the chest playfully, grabbing a laugh from him, heading upstairs.

"She, huh." You teased, "Are you sure it wasn't some strategically formed ploy in hopes you were unmarried? Wouldn't be the first time."

He trudged up the stairs behind you, a chuckle shaking through his chest. "I doubt it. She seemed genuine."

"And you would know." You quipped, ends of your mouth turned upwards.

"With my profiling expertise?" He bantered back, playfully patting your behind as you reached the second level. "I'd hope so."

[pankesitopank]

More thoughts about han eating you out like that jijiji

wc: 1.3k

cw: oral fixation, pussy drunk Han, crack, praise, unhinged behavior.

note: hehe i loved it loll. its kinda short, but i think its good... i hope ya like it :3

It all started completely normal, just the two of you lying in bed watching some series on tv, him with his head lying between your legs, simply enjoying the warmth and softness of your thighs between his head, everything normal, comfortable even, until out of nowhere, like a girl ovulating Han began to grow a need... a dirty need to be between your legs, but not lying down, but with his face buried in your pussy, maybe that need arose from nowhere, from a memory, from a fantasy or from a scene from the series, you don't know exactly because the truth is you weren't even paying that much attention to him or the serie, you preferred to keep yourself entertained with your phone and play with his soft, wavy hair that occasionally tickled the inside of your thighs and part of your lower abdomen.

"babe" he said as he turned around to be lying on his stomach.

You looked at him curiously at the sudden act

"i want to eat you out" he said seriously but with an easily identifiable desire in his eyes.

"what?" you said trying to hold your smile.

"let me eat you out" he repeated without a hint of shame while you felt that familiar twist in your stomach, which more specifically was beginning to have some repercussions in your lower area.

"Hannie, baby... You're so annoying..."

was the first thing that came out of your mouth at the same time that you settled yourself to sit up straight, away from the danger of having his face so close to your most intimate parts, obviously trying to annoy him, although deep down that shameless and ultra horny attitude of his ignited something in you.

"And hungry." He patted your legs and grabbed them, giving you a little tug to get you closer again. "Bon appétit, baby. I'm ready."

You laughed and settled back down, maintaining eye contact and trying to act sexy, just to mess with him. Just to make him shut up. Just to watch his cocky grin flicker.

But the second your core got closer enough to his face, Han changed.

His hands came up and gripped your thighs hard, nails digging in, and he looked up at you with wide, reverent eyes like he'd just seen God.

“Holy shit.”

His voice dropped, hoarse with awe.

“You're not joking. You're actually gonna let me?”

Before you could tease him, before you could say you were just playing around— he closed the distance between his mouth and your pussy.

Mouth open.

Tongue out.

Eyes fluttering shut like it was a holy experience.

At first, you yelped—because Jesus Christ, you weren’t ready for that.

He moaned as your thighs settled around his head, a deep, guttural sound that vibrated right against your core. His tongue wasted no time, everywhere at once—sliding up your slit, dipping inside, curling messily around your clit like he was starving.

“Fuck—Jisung—!”

He groaned again. Arms wrapped around your thighs tighter. Hips shifting beneath you humping the bed. You felt his legs lift—his feet kicking up into the air—and when you glanced down, you nearly laughed.

There he was.

Shoes on.

Legs bent, feet in the air like a damn cartoon character, munching like his life depended on it.

“Oh my god,” you laughed breathlessly, hips twitching. “You’re so fucking stup—"

You didn't even have the chance to finish that little word when an unexpected moan escaped your lips.

He hummed in response. Hummed. On purpose. His whole head shook side to side like he was trying to devour you from every angle, and the vibration of his moan shot straight through your spine.

“Sh’fuckin’ good,” he slurred into you. “Tastes so fuckin’ good, baby, I’m—I’m losing it—”

With one hand you tightly gripped one of your stuffed animals that was left to the side trying to have some kind of grip with the ground, while the other gripped the back of his hair pulling him impossible closer as your thighs trembled against his head. His tongue flicked wildly over your clit, messy and fast, his nose pressing tight against you, and every time you squirmed or gasped or tried to lift off his face, he moaned louder and yanked you back down.

“Nuh-uh.”

His voice was wrecked, drunk with it.

“Don’t run. you stay.”

You looked down and saw him again—completely pussy drunk. Lips soaked, cheeks flushed, eyes barely open as he blinked up at you like you were the sun and the moon, eating you like you were his breakfast, lunch, and dinner.

His feet were still up. Kicking absently.

His tongue was still working—so fast, so messy.

And you laughed again, delirious.

“Jisung, you look so pathetic right now.”

He whined into you, pulling back for just a second to breathe, face glistening with slick.

“Why would you say that?”

His voice cracked.

“That’s so hot.”

You tried to speak again, but he dove right back in. This time slower. Sloppier. Savoring you.

He moved his head in lazy circles, tongue swirling around your clit in drawn-out, wet spirals. The kind that made your toes curl and your thighs shake. You felt him mumble something again—something incoherent—and his fingers squeezed your thighs like he was holding in a full-body shiver.

“Fuckin’ heaven, baby,” he muttered. “Like candy, no, li—like melted sugar—fuck—I could live here. Just move in. Put up curtains and shit—”

You choked on a laugh.

“You’re seriously—talking right now?”

He moaned, shameless.

“Can’t help it. Tastes too fuckin’ good..."

Brain’s gone. All gone. It’s just pussy now. Pussy thoughts only.

You rolled your hips into his face out of pure instinct, and the second you did, his whole body jerked. He let out a sharp cry against you, sucking your clit into his mouth and holding it there with such desperate greed that you almost blacked out.

That was when you realized—he wasn’t teasing anymore.

He was gone. Eyes rolled back, tongue twitching, head tilting side to side, up and down in slow, pussy-worshipping movements while his feet kicked rhythmically in the air.

You reached down to touch his cheek and he shuddered violently, grinding his mouth against you like he was getting off on it.

“You’re gonna make me cum just from this,” you gasped.

His whole body stiffened under you—and then he moaned so loudly it echoed through the room. You felt the deep guttural sound shake through your clit, and your orgasm slammed into you so hard your thighs clamped around his head.

He kept going.

He didn’t even flinch.

He just held you there, face buried, tongue licking you through every pulse and aftershock like he was drinking the orgasm straight from the source.

When you finally get off him, your legs barely working, Han was a wreck.

His face was red. Mouth shiny and swollen. Hair a disaster. Hoodie drenched at the collar. And he was smiling like he’d just seen heaven and was still tasting it.

He blinked up at you dreamily, chest rising and falling with uneven breaths.

“...That was so good I think I blacked out.”

You laughed, collapsing on the bed.

He rolled over and immediately nuzzled into your side, face still damp, arms wrapping around your waist like a koala.

“we should do this more often.”

You snorted. “You’re insane.”

He grinned, sleepy and wrecked.

“Insane for you, baby.”

And then, as if it were the most casual thing in the world—

“...Round two after a snack?”

[syluses]

big girls dont cry QNA

i know you guys have lots of curiosities about this fic lolll so i’ll try to answer some of the questions i received (∗ᵕ̴᷄◡ᵕ̴᷅∗) 💕 if u still have some, just shoot me an ask!! :] also im really bad at explaining so i apologize 🤦🏻‍♀️ i have the plot nailed in my head but its tricky to articulate it in a clear, linear way for yall considering all the little nuances i added lol. i’ll try my best tho hehe :,)

Okay so there’s a whole ‘nother plot that exists in the background of this fic- which was super fun for me to write, but im sure from a reader standpoint it’s also kinda thrilling to try to connect the dots i left lol. thats why theres so many interpretations for this story (which i love!! i loved reading all yall’s theories)! 💕 BUT. that being said, the ‘canon’ goes like this:

SPOILERS BELOW read it first then come back! ( ⸍ɞ̴̶̷ ·̫ ɞ̴̶̷⸌ )

was caleb really dead?

No. Caleb staged his own death and then, similar to the main story homecoming wings, didnt tell mc :,) for his own reasons, for a time, he decides he’ll let her go on believing he’s truly gone…

why did he stage his death?

I dropped little crumbs of it in the fic, but it’s hinted that mc, on top of all her grief, feels a bit bitter over the whole shebang and also blames herself for it. hmm… why would that be? 🤔 well because their final moments together (or so she THOUGHT) were emotionally charged and volatile.

the foundation of their sibling relationship was growing weaker and weaker before the explosion. arguments are forming out of nowhere- things are becoming more tense and mc, for the life of her, can’t understand why her gege is always pulling her into a heated debate about safety, danger, blahblahblah, this that and the third, every time they interact. He’s being wildly unreasonable, which she knows, and protective- a trait that has snowballed as they entered their adulthood- but what she doesn’t know is the why behind it. she tells herself she just has a super protective older brother who views her as a little baby in need of his guidance- which isn’t entirely wrong… but she doesn’t see the full picture. His true feelings. All this tension eventually climbs to its peak. Caleb just gets worse and worse. He needs to do something before the world collapses on them both.

Now, in this au, he works at EVER, a somewhat shady but lucrative company- which dabbles in robotics amongst other things. I imagine they have abundant resources and wealth- and what with his promotions, it’s safe to say caleb is making a LOT. So, the delusional guy he is, he buys a big fancy suite with the idea in mind of two eventually living in it ;) but mc doesn’t want to- she has her own life in linkon!! She wants to spread her wings and separate from the nest anyway. Partly to start her own life; partly to prove to her gege that she can take care of herself. The argument that unfolds over this is the last they have before the big tragic explosion 😭 caleb, putting on a show with his beaten puppy eyes, leaves and then that’s the last time she sees him.

Caleb meticulously plans his ‘death’ out (with some help from his wingman ofc) and then eventually the robot is introduced to mc. It serves as a trojan horse. He’ll finally conquer her heart with it and win full autonomy over her. THIS IS HIS MAIN GOAL WITH THE ROBOT. WHY HE EVEN DOES ANY OF THIS TO BEGIN WITH.

Caleb gets to spy on mc with it and also slowly reshape her to accept his feelings; his ‘death’ has left her in a fragile state of mourning and he knows, after she warms up a bit to not-Caleb, he can more or less get away with anything- bc she will claw for whatever’s left of her family member. He can make her finally reciprocate and understand him— whether that be his feelings or fear or love. He tried to be patient, to be good, but obviously he had to travel a new route. He’s thinking of her 24/7. He’s obsessive, longing, protective, you name it- and all of this just worsens the more she denies him. When push comes to shove… well, caleb will do whatever it takes to win her :] He knows it’s unconventional and he’d be lying if he said it didn’t hurt him too- monitoring his endearingly stubborn, but sweet meimei and the shattered pieces he left of her through his android’s eyes— but it’s all temporary, and he truly believes it’s for the better.

did gideon know?

Yes, Gideon knew all along. He’s Caleb’s best buddy after all. To be matter of fact- Gideon didn’t just know, he quite literally ‘herded’ mc into the lion’s den in a way. Mc knew vaguely of their work at EVER, but not too much; so Gideon was the one who shined that light on their robotics and really introduced her to the concept of not-Caleb. Now, i wouldnt say Gideon is exactly comfortable with his involvement, but he actually really does care for mc and thinks she needs that help- as dubious as the means are. Anyway, it’s almost impossible to shut out all of his buddy’s demands: the brunet is nothing if not insistent on getting what he wants. In his own whacky way, Gideon thinks what he did- playing into Caleb’s plan- was for the better as well. I mean, Mc clearly wasnt doing good before not-Caleb came along,… but with the few visits he managed before the android got a little too stingy and sent him off, Gideon actually managed to catch a smile or two from her! So clearly he did the right thing 👀 not to mention… the real caleb seems very pleased with the progress, too. besides- the whole robot situation is temporary anyway :] She’ll be reuniting with the beloved gege she misses so much sooner rather than later.

how accurate was not-caleb?

His programming is like 100% accurate. Mc, for a mix of both naiveity and delusion, thinks not-Caleb is flawed when he starts to show signs of amorous/romantic feelings for her. Really, though, after she tells him to stay the night with her (innocently; and after years of having not shared the same childhood twin bed), it triggers a part of his ‘brain’ that undoes all real caleb’s self restraint thus far :] If the same exact situation happened with the real caleb, his reaction would’ve more or less been the same. Homeboy can only keep his feelings in check for so long

who programmed not-caleb?

Real Caleb

how is mc pregnant?

Because the robot’s creator wanted to add his own special touch to his work if you know what i mean :) yeah he’s a freak like that. Dont think he WOULDNT install in his robot the ability to indirectly knock his ‘meimei’ up. I will say though, that while caleb wants to get mc pregnant, its not fully bc he wants to start a family- at least not right away- but because he wants to emotionally and legally trap her with him. Besides monitoring her/wearing down her walls while she thought he was ‘dead’, this was actually one of caleb’s biggest goals with sending not-caleb into her home.

is not-caleb self-aware?

Yes

what’s real caleb been doing all this time?

Basically climbing the ranks of EVER from his lil perch somewhere in skyhaven. all the while, of course, spying on mc like a hawk. Biding his time & waiting for the right moment when she’s at her weakest, most codependent state to replace his carbon copy :)

was caleb controlling his robot?

No. But he essentially created its whole program. And there are cameras inside its eyes in which he watches mc from :) and cant help but snap pics with sometimes: she’s just so pretty— and endlessly sexy when he finally, in a vicarious way, gets to lie her back and make love to her <3

what is real caleb’s motive/ultimate goal?

1. to control/protect/‘tame’ mc through the robot; get her to see things from his point of view (which means realizing she belongs with him- where it’s safe and he can protect & love her)

2. to knock her up (hence the. ahem. reproductive abilities of the robot) so that he can trap her with a baby on top of all the other emotional strings he’s hogtied her with.

does gideon want mc too?

the question is not would gideon smash her. the question is would caleb LET him…. 👀

also, below i just attached a screenie from some of the notes i took. theyre ofc a little disjointed but i think it might clarify things too :] im so bad at answering questions esp for a plot this spiraling but i really tried my best guys my brain is tired forgive me :,)

[rafecameronssl4t]

omggg I have oneeee🤭

ALSO I LOVE YOUR FICS

so fmc is out with her bestfreinds, the kook boys- Kelce ,top and rafe for lunch and waiter Sofia attempting to flirt with rafe but our man only has eyes on his girl. ♥️ mc ends up teasing rafe after the incident cause of the attention he’s getting and rafe teasing her back asking her if she’s jealous hehe

Jealousy, Jealousy || Rafe Cameron x fem!reader

A/n: half of me feels bad about Sofia in these type of fics but remember Rafe wants YOU and ONLY you 😋

Warnings: nothing really :)

Word count: 836

MASTERLIST

divider by @yoonitos

“She’s coming again,” Kelce muttered under his breath, nudging Rafe with a knowing smirk. Rafe fought the urge to roll his eyes, the annoyance evident in his tightened jaw. Topper chuckled, both he and Kelce watching as Sofia approached their table, her steps light and deliberate.

Her presence was unmistakable, and her eyes were locked onto Rafe. “Hey, anyone need another drink?” Sofia’s voice was bright and cheerful, but her gaze lingered on Rafe just a fraction too long.

He resolutely kept his eyes fixed straight ahead, focusing intently on a spot somewhere behind Kelce, refusing to give her the satisfaction of his attention.

Topper glanced at Rafe, sensing his discomfort, before answering for the group. “Nah, we’re all good here, thanks.” His tone was polite but firm. Sofia nodded, her smile unwavering. “All right, just let me know if you need anything.”

As she turned to leave, her eyes subtly drifted over Rafe, as if hoping for a reaction. Rafe’s frustration simmered just below the surface, and he couldn’t suppress a scoff. Fishing out his phone, he quickly texted you, his fingers tapping out the message with a mix of impatience and frustration.

From the moment they had arrived at the country club for lunch, Sofia had been constantly hovering around them, her attention mostly focused on Rafe. No matter how many hints he dropped about being content and committed to his relationship with you, she just didn’t seem to get it.

Rafe: When are you coming?

Y/n: In like 10 minutes!!!

Rafe let out a sigh of relief as he read your reply, his tension easing slightly. Shutting off his phone, he cast a hopeful glance towards the front entrance, silently wishing you would appear any second.

After about ten minutes, the front doors swung open, revealing you and Sarah. Engaged in lively conversation, the two of you walked through the entrance, laughter bubbling between you. Rafe’s face lit up at the sight, and he immediately stood up, making his way toward you with an eager smile.

As Rafe strode across the room, Sofia rounded a corner, her eyes lighting up as she saw him heading in her direction. “Hey, Rafe—” she began, her voice hopeful. But Rafe didn’t even glance her way, brushing past her without a second thought, his focus entirely on you. The smile on Sofia’s face faltered, her heart sinking as she turned to watch him.

“Hey, babe,” Rafe greeted you warmly, his hands finding their way to the back of your neck as he pulled you into a deep kiss. Sarah, standing beside you, rolled her eyes and let out a mock gag. “Jesus,” she muttered, shaking her head before wandering off to give you two some space.

You smiled into the kiss, feeling Rafe’s affection and urgency. Pulling away slightly, you chuckled. “What was that for?” you asked, your eyes twinkling with amusement as he peppered kisses along your cheek.

“Nothin’, just missed you,” Rafe mumbled against your skin, his voice low and filled with sincerity. You couldn’t help but giggle at his tenderness, feeling warmth spread through you.

With his arm wrapped securely around your back, Rafe guided you towards the table where his friends were seated. As you approached, Kelce and Topper exchanged knowing looks, smirking at Rafe’s obvious delight. Sofia, now back behind the bar, watched from a distance.

“Thank God you’re here,” Topper quipped as you approached, a grin spreading across his face. “I thought Rafe’s jaw would break from all the clenching he’s been doing.” You raised an eyebrow at him, then turned to Rafe, who was pointedly looking away. “Why? What happened while I wasn’t here?” you asked, chuckling.

“Sofia’s what happened,” Topper continued, and your confusion deepened. “Seems that pogue’s got a thing for your man here.” Rafe let out a scoff. “You think? She could barely keep her eyes off me.”

You glanced back at Sofia, who quickly looked away when your eyes met. “She kept looking at you, did she?” you asked, your arm protectively wrapping around Rafe’s neck. He smirked, enjoying your reaction.

“Aren’t you popular with pogues these days, hmm?” you teased, giving Rafe a playful nudge. He chuckled, a mischievous glint in his eye. “Mhmm, you jealous, baby?” Rafe asked, his tone light and teasing.

You rolled your eyes playfully. “‘M not,” you said, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “I know you’re mine anyways,” you shrugged, feeling his smirk against your skin as his hand came up to rest on your hip. “Always,” he murmured, his voice low and sincere.

[hsnlv]

soft beginnings | s.jy

pairing: dad-to-be!jake x mom-to-be!reader

synopsis: you and jake are getting ready for your baby, but jake’s full of doubts about fatherhood. with plenty of laughter, love, and tiny socks, you learn that even the smallest moments can mean the world.

warnings: fluff!, jake has self-doubt but it’s adorable dont worry >< reader is pregnant if that is not clear (i love pregnant tropes actually because it’s cute hehe)

wc: 1.1k

a/n: ive been writing a lot lately since im currently on semester break but enjoy ^^ here’s my masterlist!

jake sat on the nursery floor, holding a pair of impossibly small socks between his fingers like they were some kind of alien artifact. his brows were furrowed, lips pressed into a pout that you would’ve called adorable if he wasn’t so deadly serious.

“okay, babe,” he said finally, holding the socks up for emphasis. “these cannot be for a human. i don’t care what you say.”

you couldn’t help it—you burst out laughing from your spot on the rocking chair, where you were sorting through a mountain of baby clothes. “jake, they’re for a newborn. they’re supposed to be that tiny.”

he squinted at the socks like they might reveal their secrets if he stared long enough. “nope. sorry. these are for a hamster. or maybe a very small rabbit.”

“are you calling our baby a rabbit?” you teased, grinning as you leaned back in the chair.

“i’m just saying,” he continued, waving the socks around like he was making a grand point. “what if their feet don’t fit? what if their toes are too big? i don’t even know what baby feet look like!”

you laughed so hard that tears pricked at the corners of your eyes. “you’re ridiculous.”

“i’m serious!” he insisted, though the twitch of his lips betrayed him. “what if i try to put these on and they just… fall off? or what if i lose one? it’s not like i can run to the store and ask for replacement jellybean-sized socks!”

that did it—you dissolved into giggles, your belly shaking as you leaned forward. “jake, you’re going to be fine,” you said, wiping your eyes. “i promise, putting socks on a baby isn’t as hard as you think.”

he flopped dramatically onto his back, groaning. “i’m not ready for this.”

“you are,” you said, crawling over to him and sitting on your knees by his side. you rested your chin on his chest, tilting your head to look up at him. “you’re going to be the best dad ever.”

he gazed down at you, his expression softening, but you could still see the hint of doubt in his eyes. “you really think so?”

“i know so,” you said, reaching up to brush a strand of hair out of his face. “you’ve got the dad jokes down already. the rest is just practice.”

he groaned again, dragging a hand down his face. “yeah, but what about the important stuff? like… like making bottles. or changing diapers! do you know how many straps and tabs those things have? it’s like trying to assemble IKEA furniture!”

you snorted, pressing your forehead to his chest as you laughed. “it’s not that bad.”

“it is that bad,” he said, sitting up suddenly. his hands flailed a bit as he tried to explain. “and what if i don’t wake up when the baby cries? or—or what if i hold them wrong? what if i drop them? oh my god, what if i don’t know how to swaddle? they’re gonna hate me.”

“jake.” you placed your hands on his cheeks, forcing him to look at you. “take a deep breath.”

he inhaled shakily, his wide eyes locking onto yours.

“you’re not going to drop the baby,” you said firmly. “or hold them wrong. and even if you mess up the first swaddle, or it takes you a few tries to get the diaper right, it’s okay. you’ll figure it out.”

he didn’t look entirely convinced, so you leaned closer, your voice softer now. “do you remember when we first got peanut?”

he blinked, his brows furrowing. “our dog?”

“yeah. you were so nervous about training him. you kept googling everything, and you were convinced he was going to hate you because you couldn’t get him to sit on command.”

jake huffed, his lips twitching into a reluctant smile. “okay, yeah, but peanut was a little menace at first.”

“he was,” you agreed, grinning. “but you didn’t give up. you were so patient and sweet with him, and now he listens to you better than he listens to me.”

jake let out a soft laugh, his shoulders relaxing a bit.

“it’s going to be the same with the baby,” you said, brushing your thumbs gently over his cheekbones. “you’re going to love them so much that none of the little mistakes will matter. and they’re definitely not going to hate you for struggling with a diaper or two.”

“you sure about that?” he asked, his voice quieter now.

“absolutely,” you said, smiling.

he sighed, leaning forward to rest his forehead against yours. “what would i do without you?”

“probably drown in a pile of tiny socks,” you teased, laughing softly.

“you’re not wrong,” he muttered, but he was smiling again.

you both sat there for a moment, the quiet hum of the nursery filling the air. then jake pulled back slightly, his hand drifting to your belly.

“hey, little one,” he murmured, his voice soft and warm. “just so you know, your mom’s the best person in the world. so if i mess up, she’s gonna make sure you’re taken care of. and if you could, uh… maybe go easy on me with the diapers, that’d be great.”

you laughed, swatting at his shoulder. “stop making deals with the baby!”

“what? i’m just saying!” he said, grinning.

he leaned down and pressed a kiss to your belly, murmuring something too quiet for you to hear. when he sat up again, his eyes were brighter, his usual spark returning.

“okay,” he said, grabbing the tiny socks and holding them up like a trophy. “we’re definitely framing these.”

“i knew you’d come around,” you said, smiling as you kissed his cheek.

the rest of the afternoon was spent folding onesies and arranging books on the shelves, with jake tossing out ridiculous questions every five minutes.

“what if the baby doesn’t like my cooking?”

“jake, they’re not going to eat anything you cook for at least a year.”

“what if they cry every time i pick them up?”

“then you’ll hold them until they stop crying.”

“what if they call me ‘dude’ instead of ‘dad’?”

“then they’re definitely your kid.”

by the time the sun dipped below the horizon, the nursery was mostly finished. the crib stood in the corner, draped with a soft, pastel blanket, and the bookshelf was packed with stories you couldn’t wait to read aloud.

you stood in the doorway with jake, his arm around your shoulders as you both took in the space.

“it’s perfect,” you murmured, leaning into his side.

“almost perfect,” he said, resting a hand on your belly. “just missing one thing.”

you smiled, your hand covering his. “they’ll be here soon enough.”

he pressed a kiss to your temple, his voice filled with quiet awe. “soon enough,” he echoed.

and in that moment, surrounded by love and laughter and the promise of something even sweeter, you knew your little family was already complete in all the ways that mattered.

© all rights reserved | hsnlv 2024

[haniette]

familiar stranger. // ln4

pairing | lando norris x fem!reader

genre | fluff, lots of angst, situationship au, suggestive !! (but no real smut scenes), hurt-comfort

word count | 9.7k

warnings | no use of y/n, suggestive in some moments, hot making-out scene, no description of smut scene, body shaming, toxic relationship, manipulative behaviour, crying, cursing, heartbreak, pet names (angel), lots of tension, pinning.

inspired by: kenya grace — strangers, chappel roan — casual

summary: once, they were caught in a messy situationship—passion without promises, love without labels—until life turned them into strangers. when their paths cross again, old sparks reignite, and buried emotions rush back. but it isn't as perfect as one can imagine.

a/n: hii how are youuuuu <3 hope you're all doing alright :) dropping off this real quick before getting back to finishing one long work for you guys hehe~

The wedding was full of people, sparkling dresses, clinking glasses, and soft laughter. But even in the sea of guests, you couldn’t shake the feeling of being an outsider here. 

This was supposed to be a celebration. A chance to enjoy the happy moments of other people’s lives. But there you were, half-heartedly smiling and nodding through conversations, just going through the motions, your mind not quite here. Your fingers absently traced the engagement ring on your finger as your eyes scanned the room.

Eric, your fiancé, had insisted you come, mostly to help him fill out the social circles and be his shoulder candy, but your heart wasn’t in it. The familiar comfort of your daily routine felt like a faraway dream as the buzz of the wedding slowly settled into a heavy weight on your chest. 

You hadn’t wanted to attend it, but you’d gone anyway, playing the part of the dutiful fiancée. But deep down, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were running from something. Or maybe, someone.

You stepped outside for a moment of fresh air, hoping to clear your head. The cool night air wrapped around you like a quiet blanket, and you leaned against the stone wall, taking a deep breath, trying to steady the storm inside. 

For a moment, the quiet felt good. But then, you heard it—the familiar laughter, playful and carefree. It wrapped around you like a warm, but painful memory. You didn’t need to look to know whom it belonged to, but you did anyway.

Lando. He stood there, leaning casually against a pillar, dressed in a perfectly tailored suit, the faintest trace of a smirk on his lips. The curls that you once loved to run your fingers through now framed his face like they were meant to be there, a bit longer than they used to be. His jaw was sharper, more defined, the boyish softness you remembered now replaced with the quiet intensity of a man who had seen more of the world, who had grown into himself. 

But his eyes—those beautiful aquamarine eyes—were the same. And in that moment, it felt like nothing had changed. It felt like no time had passed at all like you were back to being that girl who had laughed with him, who had shared late-night kisses in his car, whose heart had once been his. And for a moment, you wondered if he could still feel the pull of the past like you did. 

You stood frozen, just staring at him, trying to process what was happening. You hadn’t prepared for this. You didn’t even know if you wanted to see him, but there he was—Lando, in the flesh, as if he’d never left. 

The moment stretched out, as though the world around you had stilled, your heartbeat louder than any sound in the room. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, his gaze met yours. 

His lips parted in recognition, the faintest flicker of surprise in his expression, followed by something darker, something deeper. There was a hint of disbelief in his eyes as he excused himself from the group he was talking to, and took a step toward you. His movements were slow and deliberate, as if unsure if he should approach if the moment was real.

You swallowed, trying to find your voice. The words were tangled in your chest, caught between a thousand emotions—anger, longing, regret. 

“Lando…” You said, your voice quiet, a little hoarse, as if saying his name alone carried more weight than you could bear.

His smile was hesitant at first, but it quickly softened, and there it was—that familiar tenderness, that same boyish warmth that had once made you feel like the only person in the world. 

“Hey,” He said softly, his voice a quiet murmur that made your pulse quicken. “It’s really good to see you.” His gaze lingered on you for a heartbeat too long, and you felt yourself drowning in that look, in everything that had been and could never be again.

You swallowed hard, trying to hold your composure, but it was hard—so hard. “It’s been a while.” You managed, your words coming out shakier than you’d intended.

“Yeah,” He said, his voice low, almost regretful, “A while.”

The air between you was thick, charged with years of unspoken things. The questions you never asked, the things you never got the chance to say. The tension hung there, like a fragile thread ready to snap, and neither of you seemed ready to pull on it.

And then, as if the universe were reminding you of the life you’d built since then, you heard the soft call of Eric’s voice. “Darling?”

You turned your head, your heart dropping just a little as you saw him—your fiancé, his hand reaching for your waist, pulling you toward him effortlessly. His touch was steady, but in that moment, it felt like a stark contrast to the warmth Lando had once given you. You pulled yourself together, even though every part of you wanted to stay in that moment forever.

Eric’s arm slipped around your waist. “Everything okay out here?” He asked, his voice light like the situation was nothing more than a casual break from the festivities.

You nodded, forcing a smile. “Yeah, just needed some air.” You turned back toward Lando, not sure how to handle the sudden intrusion of your present with the ghost of your past standing in front of you.

Lando’s gaze shifted toward Eric, his expression hardening for a brief moment before he composed himself, offering a polite but distant smile. You could tell it wasn’t easy for him, even though he tried to hide it. His eyes never quite left you, though.

Eric glanced at Lando, clearly sizing him up. “This is Eric, my fiancé.” You said softly, biting the inner of your cheek nervously. Eric extended a hand, still with that easygoing grin. “Nice to meet you, man.”

Lando hesitated for a fraction of a second, then took Eric’s hand, his grip firm but distant, his eyes flicking to you before quickly returning to Eric. “Likewise.” He said, his voice neutral, yet you could feel the undertones beneath it. It wasn’t nice for him to meet Eric.

An uncomfortable silence stretched for a beat before you felt the weight of the moment. You cleared your throat, trying to smooth over the awkwardness. You hadn’t thought about what to say next, but the words that came out felt strange, a little too forced.

“This is Lando,” You began, your voice faltering slightly as you introduced him. “An old... friend.”

The words tasted foreign like they didn’t belong in your mouth. Old friend. It felt like a betrayal, a lie as if you were reducing everything that had once been between you—so real and vivid to nothing more than a passing acquaintance.

Lando’s stomach twisted at the nickname, a small flicker of something dark crossing his face. An old friend. It stung more than he expected, cutting deeper than he cared to admit. You had made him a stranger in your life. A ghost. And now, standing there, he realized how much he regretted letting that happen. His jaw tightened, but he forced a smile, nodding at the label you had assigned him.

“Yeah,” Lando replied quietly, looking down for just a second, a small breath escaping him. “Old friend.”

There was something in the way he said it—soft, almost too soft—that made your heart ache. It was like hearing the echo of something that used to matter, something that had once been everything to both of you, now reduced to a polite formality.

Eric didn’t seem to notice the undercurrent of discomfort. He laughed lightly, giving Lando a friendly clap on the back. “It’s good to meet you, Lando. Big fan of yours.”

“Thanks. Appreciate it.” Lando sent him a weak smile, trying to be polite but knowing him well, you immediately noticed that it didn’t reach his eyes. 

You could see the tension in Lando’s shoulders, the subtle way his eyes flickered back toward you—like he wanted to say something, anything, to break the uncomfortable silence that had settled between the three of you. But instead, he took a small step back.

“Uh… yeah— You know, I think I should probably head back inside,” Lando said, his voice strained, though he tried to mask it with casualness. “Good to see you again.”

You nodded, but it felt like your whole body was screaming for him to stay, for him to not disappear, again. 

“I’ll see you around.” You said, but your voice didn’t quite match the words.

Lando gave a small smile, though his eyes were distant. “Take care.” He said softly before turning to walk away. 

His movements were slow, as though each step toward the door was one he didn’t want to take. But he did it anyway, vanishing into the crowd with that same quiet intensity that had always surrounded him.

You stood there, rooted in place, as Eric wrapped his arm around you, leading you back into the reception. The words felt hollow in your ears. You could feel Lando’s absence once again, like a physical ache. You wanted to look back, but you didn’t. 

You didn’t want to watch him walk away for the second time in your life.

The weight of it all—the years, the distance, the things both of you hadn’t said, the way he’d slipped from your grasp—hung heavy between your ribs. And when you glanced down at the engagement ring on your finger, it suddenly felt colder and heavier than it ever had before.

And in that moment, you realized that maybe you were still waiting for him to come back and say it wasn’t over. That you two weren’t complete strangers, after all.

────୨ৎ────

The soft buzz of conversation and laughter filtered through the ballroom doors, the music pulsing in the background, but you couldn’t bring yourself to go back in. The cool night air was a balm to your racing nerves, but you still felt the weight of everything that had happened earlier. Everything that had been said without being said.

You stepped out onto the balcony, the chill of the evening air brushing against your skin as you leaned on the stone railing, gazing out at the dimly lit garden below. 

Your thoughts were a tangled mess, but there was one memory that stood out more than the others, one that seemed to pull you in with magnetic force. 

The night when everything had shifted. 

The office lights flickered faintly in the early evening haze, a reflection of the weariness that clung to your every step. The hum of your boss’s voice, sharp and unrelenting, still echoed in your mind as you descended the stairs, your bag heavy on your shoulder. Outside, the cool air was a slight reprieve, but it did little to lighten the weight you felt. 

Then, you saw it—his car, sleek and familiar, waiting at the curb, just as always.

Lando stood leaning against the driver's door, one hand casually in his pocket, the other scrolling through his phone. The sight of him alone was a breath of fresh air. He had his cap put backwards as he had it in his liking.

When he noticed you, his expression softened into a smile—a warm, genuine gesture that made the corners of your frustration ease ever so slightly.

You approached, trying to push aside the tension of the day. “Hi Lan.” You greeted, giving him a soft kiss on his cheek.

“Hi Angel, I missed you.” Lando replied, his voice low and calm, as if his only goal was to soothe you. Then he opened the door for you, and helped you get into the passenger's seat. In a second, he was already sitting in the car next to you, fastening his seatbelt. 

Then he looked at you and tilted his head, studying you. “Rough day?” Lando asked, glancing at you as he started the car. His voice was soft, unhurried, but there was a note of concern in it.

“More like a nightmare,” You muttered, rubbing your temples. “My boss was insufferable. I’m starting to think she gets a bonus every time she ruins someone’s day.”

Lando chuckled, but his eyes flicked toward you briefly, his brows knitting together as he took in your slumped posture. “Should I have a word with her?” He teased, but the warmth in his tone and the second meaning of his offer softened the edge.

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the small smile tugging at your lips. “I don’t think you’re her type.” You replied, meeting his eyes.

“Her loss.” He shrugged, his voice light, and you couldn’t help but laugh out and shake your head. But his gaze lingered on you a moment longer as he drove to your apartment. 

When he parked by your building, it was already late, the moon shining brightly in the sky. Lando looked at you for a second, and then he reached over to brush a stray strand of hair from your face. His touch was impossibly soft, his fingers lingering against your cheek for just a beat too long. 

That was when it started—when the space between you seemed to shrink.

You could feel your heart pounding, the air between you charged with something unspoken. And when you looked at him, you didn’t mean to lean closer, but before you could second-guess yourself, his lips were already on yours.

The kiss was soft at first—gentle, tentative, as if testing the waters. But then something broke loose between you, a flood of suppressed longing that had been building for far too long. His hand cupped the side of your face, his thumb brushing over your cheek as his lips moved against yours, deeper now, hungrier.

The world outside the car ceased to exist. There were no cars passing, no city sounds—just the heat between you both, the soft sounds of your breaths mingling. 

His kiss was intoxicating, his lips moving with a rhythm that matched the pounding of your heart. When his teeth grazed your bottom lip, you gasped, and he took the opportunity to deepen the kiss further, his tongue brushing against yours in a way that sent a shiver down your spine. You let out a small, involuntary whimper, and he groaned in response, the sound low and guttural. 

“Come here, Angel.” He murmured against your lips, his voice husky and low. 

His hands were on your waist now, guiding you as you shifted, moving closer to him. Before you knew it, you were straddling his lap, your knees pressing into the leather seat as your arms wrapped around his neck. The new position brought a fresh wave of intensity, the closeness making every touch, every kiss, more electrifying.

His hands roamed your body, his touch firm yet reverent, as if he was memorizing every curve of your body. His fingers slipped beneath your shirt, brushing against your hot, bare skin, and the sensation sent a jolt of heat through you. His lips left yours to trail wet kisses along your jawline, then down to your neck. Each kiss was deliberate, slow, and full of intention, leaving a trail of fire in its wake.

“Lan…” You breathed, your voice barely audible, but the way his name left your lips made his grip on you tighten.

“Tell me to stop if you want me to,” He murmured against your skin, his breath warm and ragged. His lips hovered near your collarbone, his hands trembling slightly as they rested on your hips. “Or do you want me to continue, Angel?”

You pulled back just enough to meet his gaze, your eyes locking with his. There was vulnerability there, a question lingering in the depths of his aquamarine eyes. You didn’t answer with words; instead, you cupped his face in your hands and kissed him with everything you had into that one moment. 

That was all the confirmation he needed. His hands slid lower, gripping your ass as he shifted, adjusting the angle so he could kiss you even deeper. 

The hunger between you grew, the kiss turning into a frantic clash of lips and teeth and tongues. His hands explored your body, and you reveled in the way he touched you, the way he made you feel seen, desired, cherished.

The cramped space of the car only heightened the intensity, the intimacy of it all. When his hands moved to the hem of your shirt, pushing it up slowly, you shivered at the sensation of his fingers on your bare skin. He paused for a moment, his eyes scanning your face for any sign of hesitation. But you didn’t stop him. You wanted this—you wanted him.

His lips returned to yours, and the kiss turned heated, passionate, as if the world were about to end and this was the only moment that mattered. 

His hands roamed freely now, exploring every inch of you, and you responded in kind, your fingers slipping under his shirt to feel the warmth of his skin. 

“Fuck, you have no idea what you do to me.” He muttered against your lips, his voice rough with need.

“Then show me, Lan.” You whispered, your fingers threading through his curls. 

He groaned again, his hands gripping your hips tightly as he ground you against him, the friction sending sparks shooting through your veins. “Fucking hell, you’re gonna be the death of me.”

His lips trailed down your neck, his teeth grazing your skin before sucking lightly, just enough to leave a mark. The sensation sent a shiver down your spine, your head falling back as a soft moan escaped you. Your nails dug into his shoulders as his hands slid beneath your skirt, his touch scorching against the bare skin of your thighs. 

“You’re perfect,” He murmured, his lips trailing down your collarbone. “So fucking perfect.”

You were trembling now, the tension building with every touch, every whispered word. When his fingers dipped lower, you gasped. Uncontrollably, your head fell against his shoulder as the sensations overwhelmed you. 

“Lan, please.” You whimpered, your voice desperate now and he didn’t make you wait. 

His fingers worked their magic, and you felt yourself unraveling, your body arching against him as waves of pleasure washed over you. He watched you the whole time, his eyes dark and hooded, his lips curled into a satisfied smirk.

The air in the car grew thick, the windows fogging up as the two of you moved together, the heat building until it was almost unbearable. You lost track of time, of place, of everything except him—his touch, his breath, the way he made you feel. 

Finally, he pulled you close, his arms wrapping around you, and the world outside the car felt like a distant memory. The rain had started to fall, pattering softly against the windows, but inside, everything was warm and electric. 

As you still sat together in the front seat—your head resting in the crook of his neck with his hands drawing small, soothing circles on your back—you felt a strange sense of calm wash over you. The rhythmic sound of his breathing was a strange comfort, grounding you in a moment that felt entirely surreal. The silence wasn’t awkward; it was filled with the weight of what had just transpired. 

For the first time in a long time, it felt like everything was exactly as it should be.

But as the stillness settled, reality began to creep back in. The bubble you had created in that car couldn’t last forever. 

When morning came, everything was different. Lando had to leave for another Grand Prix weekend, and you kissed him goodbye with the promise of staying in touch like you always did. But then the texts from him stopped coming. Days passed without a word. The silence between you stretched further until it became a canyon between you both.

You waited for him to call, to text, to say something, anything. But the silence remained.

A few days later, the pictures surfaced—him with another woman, smiling as she was clinging to him, kissing his neck. Your heart shattered, being left with nothing else than the feeling of unfairness, confusion, but also pain and frustration. 

When you decided to reach out, trying to make sense of everything, his reply came too late—cold and distant, almost as if he had never cared. It was then that you realized: he was gone. Just like that. Lando had slipped away like a shadow, leaving behind only the ache of unspoken words, the regret of never having said what you truly felt. 

You hadn’t realized how much you’d let yourself hope, how much you’d wanted him to be different. 

Blocking his number felt like cutting off a limb, but it was the only way to protect yourself. Even now, as the memory played in your mind like a film on repeat, you couldn’t shake the ache that lingered. The way you had been reduced to nothing more than a forgotten memory, just another girl in the blur of his life.

Now, sitting on that balcony at the wedding, the memory hit you with full force, each detail as vivid as the day it happened. You closed your eyes for a moment, the sounds of the wedding celebration muffling in the distance. 

The cool air felt too warm now like it was holding all the memories you couldn’t shake. The warmth of his touch, the depth of his kisses, the weight of his body against yours. And the pain of losing him—of watching him walk away like you meant nothing. 

You squeezed your eyes shut, willing the tears to stay hidden. But it was useless. Lando had been more than a fling, and it was nothing new. He had been a part of you, and that part was still aching.

After taking a deep breath and fixing your hair, you decided to go back into the ballroom, putting the mask of indifference back on your face. After all, it was just a party with your fiancé and lots of strangers. And one, familiar stranger.

────୨ৎ────

Lando stood by the wall, watching you from across the ballroom, your laughter cutting through the noise. It was like the space between the two of you had become something physical, something he could touch—a barrier he couldn’t cross no matter how badly he wanted to. His hands clenched at his sides as he tried to compose himself, to make sense of everything that was swirling inside him.

The weight of the moment crushed him from all angles. Seeing you with Eric, with that easy smile and the way his hand rested on your waist, it felt like a punch to the gut. He wasn’t jealous. Not exactly. He just… he couldn’t help but think of what he’d thrown away, what he could’ve had. What he should’ve had.

Lando’s eyes traced the engagement ring on your finger, gleaming in the light. A symbol of a future you had built—one that didn’t involve him, not anymore. His stomach twisted in a knot, the sight of it suddenly suffocating him. The feeling was like he was choking on his own guilt, the weight of every wrong decision he had made crashing down on him.

He remembered the night he had been with you, so vividly, so painfully. The way you had kissed him, pulled him in like you had always wanted this, like you had always wanted him. It had been reckless, wild, and hot, but it had felt right. And then… then he had been the one to ruin it.

He had never meant to hurt you. He never wanted to walk away from you, but somewhere in that whirlwind of emotions, of confusion, he had let his ego get in the way. 

The night you had spent together, the way you had laughed in each other’s arms, felt like it had been stolen from him. It should’ve been something that he held onto, something that pulled him back to you, but instead, he let his pride get the best of him.

That night after the Grand Prix, when he had seen the pictures, when the headlines screamed about him with another girl, it hit him harder than anything ever had. He had been drunk, so out of it, he hadn’t even realized the way the world would spin it. Some nosy people in the club had snapped pictures before either of them knew what was going on, and in that moment of complete foolishness, Lando had let it all slip away. He had been too embarrassed to even reach out to you, to try and fix the mess he had made. He had been too much of a coward.

The regret wasn’t immediate. At first, he tried to brush it off, convincing himself that it was just a mistake and that he could just forget it. He had to keep up appearances. But the more the days went by, the more he replayed that night in his mind, the more he felt the weight of what he had lost.

The truth was, the second he saw you looking at him with that painful distance, the second you pulled away without a word, he knew. He knew he had ruined everything. And the worst part was that he didn’t even dare to try and fix it. He didn’t text you. He didn’t try to explain. He just let you slip away like you were another girl in the blur of his life.

Now, seeing you here, seeing you with Eric—the man who was there for you, who had held you when you cried, who had shared your joys and your pain—it felt like salt on an open wound. He had taken that for granted, assumed that you would always be there, that he could always come back to you. But he had been wrong, so wrong. And the pain of realizing that now was almost too much to bear.

What made it worse was the quiet ache in his chest when he thought of what could’ve been. He could’ve been the one to hold your hand on this night. He could’ve been the one to put that engagement ring on your finger. He could’ve been the one you trusted, the one who stayed beside you. He could’ve been the one you looked at with that adoring, soft smile, the one who promised you forever. 

Instead, he had let his selfishness win, and now he was nothing.

He hated himself for it. He hated himself for every second he didn’t try harder, for every moment he could’ve reached out and didn’t. He was standing here, watching you, and all he could think about was how much he wanted to be the one to claim you, the one to fight for you. But he wasn’t. Eric was. 

And now it was too late, wasn’t it?

The truth of it crushed him, and he felt like an absolute fool. “How could I have been so stupid?” He thought, raking a hand through his hair, unable to shake the feeling of shame that flooded through him. He had watched you move on without him, and all he could do was stand in the corner, a mere spectator of the life he had so carelessly let go.

He remembered everything about you. The way you laughed, the way your eyes would light up when you were excited, the way your body felt pressed against his in the quiet moments, the soft whispers you’d share in the dark. It was like his heart couldn’t stop mourning the loss, mourning the future that had been so easily tossed aside.

His fists clenched as his eyes flicked back to you. You looked so beautiful, so radiant. The years hadn’t taken that from you. You had grown and blossomed into someone even more incredible than he remembered. But the realization hit him harder than anything else—you didn’t need him anymore. You had moved on. You had found someone who could give you everything he never could. And now, he was just a stranger in your world, a shadow of the man he used to be in your eyes.

The tears welled up in his eyes, blurring his vision for a moment. The weight of his mistakes threatened to drown him, and for the first time, he allowed himself to feel it all—the regret, the longing, the ache of knowing he had let you slip away. It was like watching the best part of his life walk out of his reach, and all he could do was stand there, powerless, as the person he loved disappeared forever. 

The pain of knowing it was too late was unbearable. He had let you go when he should have held you close, should have fought for you with everything he had. But now… now, you were with Eric. And Lando knew, with a sickening finality, that he would never get the chance to be the one who made you his.

And that thought alone broke him.

Lando stood frozen near the edge of the ballroom, his drink long forgotten in his hand, as he watched you from across the room. You were laughing at something someone from the group you talked to had said, your head tilted back. It was the smile that used to belong to him. A smile he hadn’t realized how much he loved until it was too late.

The ache in his chest grew sharper with every passing second. He wanted to move, to say something, anything, but his feet felt like they were rooted to the ground. All he could do was watch you, knowing he didn’t belong in your world anymore. 

You turned toward Eric, your hand brushing against his arm as you said something softly, something Lando couldn’t hear. Eric looked at you, his hand sliding to the small of your back in a gesture so intimate, so natural, that it sent a dagger straight through Lando’s heart.

It could have been him. It should have been him.

Eric leaned down, pressing a kiss to your temple, and Lando had to look away, the pain too much to bear. He clenched his jaw, blinking rapidly as the sharp sting of tears burned his eyes again. He didn’t cry. Not ever. But tonight, standing here, watching you with someone else, he felt like he might break.

The music changed, a slower song filling the room, and couples began to drift toward the dance floor. Lando’s eyes flicked back to you just as Eric took your hand, leading you toward the center of the room. You followed him with ease, your laughter spilling over as he twirled you playfully before pulling you into his arms. The two of you moved together, swaying in perfect rhythm, and Lando couldn’t look away.

He imagined himself in Eric’s place—holding you close, feeling your warmth against him, whispering secrets only the two of you could share. He imagined the life you could’ve had together, the nights spent tangled in each other’s arms, the mornings filled with quiet kisses and sleepy smiles. He imagined being the one to give you everything you deserved.

But that was all it was now—imagination. A dream that would never come true.

As the song ended and the crowd applauded, you turned toward Eric, your face glowing with happiness. And that’s when Lando knew—knew in a way that hit him like a freight train—that he had lost you. Not just for tonight, not just for a moment, but for good.

He stood there, rooted in place, as you and Eric made your way toward the exit, hand in hand. The sight of you walking away was almost too much to bear. He wanted to call out to you, to say something, to tell you everything he should have said years ago. But the words caught in his throat, and he could only watch as the distance between you grew.

As you reached the door, you glanced back for a brief second. Your eyes met his, and in that moment, he saw it—the flicker of something different, something that felt like a quiet goodbye, but also... fear? And then you turned away, disappearing through the doorway with Eric by your side.

Lando stayed where he was, staring at the space where you had been. The weight of his regret was suffocating, crushing him with the force of everything he had lost. The sound of the party faded into the background, the laughter and music drowned out by the echo of his thoughts.

It was over. He had let you go, and now there was no getting you back.

He stepped out onto the balcony, the cool night air biting at his skin as he leaned against the railing. The stars above were impossibly bright, mocking him with their beauty. He let out a shaky breath, his hands gripping the cold stone as he tried to steady himself. But the ache in his chest refused to go away.

Lando closed his eyes, letting the pain wash over him. He had made his choice, and now he had to live with it. But as he stood there, alone under the stars, he couldn’t help but wish—just for a moment—that he could go back. That he could rewrite the story, change the ending, and be the man you deserved.

But life didn’t work that way. And as the night stretched on, Lando knew he would carry this regret with him forever.

────୨ৎ────

The drive home was thick with tension, the air between you and Eric heavy with unspoken words. Rain poured relentlessly against the car, the sound filling the silence that Eric refused to break.

You sat stiffly in the passenger seat, your hands resting in your lap as you stared at the blurry city lights outside the window. You tried to ignore the knot in your stomach, the lingering warmth of Lando’s presence a stark contrast to the icy atmosphere now suffocating you.

The wedding replayed in your mind—the glowing bride and groom, the joyous laughter, the dance floor alive with celebration. It should’ve been a night of happiness, a night that made you feel excited for your upcoming wedding. But instead, it had left you hollow, drowning in doubts you could no longer ignore.

Eric’s fingers gripped the steering wheel tightly, his knuckles white as he navigated the slick roads. His jaw was set, his expression unreadable, but the tension in his body screamed louder than any words.

“I think it was a beautiful ceremony.” You said softly, trying to break the silence, but Eric didn’t respond. You hesitated, then tried again. “The food was amazing too. The cake—”

“You didn’t need any more cake.” He said abruptly, his voice cold and cutting.

The words hit you like a physical blow, stealing the breath from your lungs. You blinked, stunned, your mind scrambling to process what he’d just said. “What?” You whispered, your voice barely audible.

He finally glanced at you, his expression hard. “You heard me,” He said flatly. “You were already piling your plate up. Did you really need another slice? You’ll get fat if you eat this much.”

Your heart sank, the hurt flooding through you like a tidal wave. You hadn’t even eaten much—you’d been too nervous, too distracted by the night’s events and your own swirling thoughts. But his words cut deeper than the surface, touching on insecurities you’d tried so hard to bury.

“I wasn’t...” You trailed off, your voice trembling. “I wasn’t overeating. I just—”

“Don’t make excuses,” He snapped, his tone dismissive. “It’s not a good look.”

Tears stung your eyes, but you turned your head toward the window, unwilling to let him see you break. The rain outside mirrored the storm inside you, the sound of it hitting the car drowning out the sharp ache in your chest.

When Eric pulled into the parking lot of your building, he didn’t wait for you. He just turned off the car, grabbed the umbrella, and stepped out without a word. 

The rain was still coming down in sheets, soaking through your dress the moment you stepped outside. You struggled with your heels on the slippery pavement, nearly losing your footing as you hurried after him. He didn’t bother to slow down or offer a hand.

The final insult came when you saw him standing under the building’s awning, perfectly dry under the umbrella. He glanced at you once, his expression blank, then turned and walked inside without waiting for you.

You stumbled as you reached the door, the heel of your shoe catching on the wet ground. Your heart clenched as you caught yourself on the handle, the pain of his indifference sharper than the physical discomfort.

By the time you reached the apartment, your dress clung to your skin, your hair was plastered to your face, and your makeup smudged. Eric didn’t say a word as you closed the door behind you, the sound echoing in the tense silence.

“I’m going to change.” You murmured, your voice small.

Eric didn’t look at you. “Do whatever you want,” He muttered, kicking his shoes off before heading toward the kitchen. “I don’t care.”

You paused, your heart pounding as you watched him pour himself a glass of water. His movements were precise and controlled, a stark contrast to the storm of emotions swirling within you.

“I don’t understand why you’re acting like this, Eric,” You said, your voice trembling. “What did I do wrong?”

Eric set the glass down with more force than necessary, the sound making you flinch. He turned to you, his eyes narrowing. “You really don’t get it, do you?”

“Get what?” You asked, frustration and hurt bubbling to the surface.

“I can’t believe you embarrassed me like that!” He snapped, his voice sharp and cutting. You stood by the counter, your fingers clutching its edge as if it were the only thing keeping you grounded. 

“What? I didn’t embarrass you, Eric,” You said, your voice shaking but firm. “I was just… talking to someone.”

“Talking to someone,” He repeated with a harsh laugh, turning on his heel to glare at you. “You mean Lando fucking Norris. The same guy you couldn’t take your eyes off all night. Do you even realize how pathetic that looked? My fiancée, giggling like a schoolgirl with some ex-flame in front of everyone we know.”

Your heart twisted at his words, the venom in his tone striking a nerve. “It wasn’t like that,” You said, your voice trembling. “I wasn’t doing anything wrong.”

“You don’t think it’s wrong to make me look like an idiot?” He shot back. “To stand there, laughing and smiling with him like I don’t even exist?”

You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. “Eric, this isn’t about Lando,” You said carefully. “This is about us. About how you’ve been treating me.”

“Treating you?” His eyes widened in mock disbelief. “Are you serious right now? After everything I’ve done for you—everything I’ve sacrificed—you’re going to sit there and act like I’m the bad guy?”

“I’m not trying to make you the bad guy,” You said, your voice rising with frustration. “I’m trying to tell you how I feel. But you never listen, Eric. You don’t even care how your words affect me.”

“Oh, here we go,” He sneered, throwing his hands up in exasperation. “Poor you. Always the victim. Always so sensitive.”

The words hit you like a slap, and your vision blurred with unshed tears. “This isn’t about being sensitive,” You said, your voice breaking. “It’s about respect. And you stopped respecting me a long time ago.”

Eric scoffed, shaking his head. “You’re unbelievable. Do you think this is easy for me? You think I don’t feel anything when we fight like this? I’m trying my best, but apparently, that’s never good enough for you.”

You stared at him, his words cutting deeper than you wanted to admit. “Eric, this isn’t about effort. It’s about how you make me feel. And right now, I feel small. I feel worthless.”

His expression darkened, and he took a step closer. “Oh, so now I’m the reason you’re unhappy?” He said, his voice low and dangerous. “That’s rich. You were a mess when I met you. A complete wreck. I’m the one who fixed you, who gave you a life worth living. And this is how you repay me?”

Your breath caught in your throat, his words sinking in like a dagger to your chest. The tears you’d been holding back spilled over, hot and relentless. 

“Fixed me?” You echoed, your voice barely above a whisper. “You think I’d be nothing without you?” Your voice rose, trembling with emotion. “You think you’re the reason I’m standing here right now?”

His silence was deafening. He didn’t deny it. That was the moment it clicked—the realization that shattered whatever was left of your resolve. He didn’t see you as an equal, as someone to love and cherish. He saw you as a project, something he could control and shape into his own version of perfection.

“I’m done,” You said, your voice trembling but resolute. “I’m done letting you talk to me like this. I’m done letting you make me feel like I’m not enough.”

Eric’s expression shifted, panic flickering in his eyes. “Wait,” He said, his tone softening. “You don’t mean that. You’re upset, that’s all. Just—just calm down, okay? We can work this out.”

You shook your head, your tears falling freely now. “No, Eric. We can’t. Because I’ve been trying to ‘work this out’ for months, and all it’s done is break me.”

“Don’t do this,” He said, his voice pleading as he rushed over to you, gripping your wrists tightly. “Please. We’re supposed to get married. We’re supposed to spend our lives together. What about the plans we’ve already made? You can’t just throw that away!”

“Let go of me, Eric,” You hissed, trying to free your hands, “It hurts.”

“No! First you need to answer me.” He shouted, fastening his grip even more, your face twisting in a painful grimace.

“I’m not throwing it away,” You said, “You did that the moment you stopped treating me like someone you loved.” Then you shook your hands abruptly, his hands flying away from your wrists.

Then, you slipped the engagement ring off your finger and placed it on the counter, gently rubbing your wrists, where his hands were gripping on not so long ago.

His face twisted with anger and desperation as you turned and went to the front door. “If you walk out that door, don’t come crawling back to me when you realize no one else is going to put up with you!”

The words stopped you in your tracks, the cruelty of them stealing the breath from your lungs. For a moment, you thought you might collapse under the weight of it all. But then, a quiet voice inside you spoke up—a voice that had been buried for far too long. You deserved better.

Without another word, you turned around and walked to the door, each step feeling like a small victory. The rain hit your skin like ice as you stepped outside, but the storm couldn’t touch the fire burning inside you now.

You didn’t know where you were going or what the future held. But as you walked away from the life you once thought you wanted, you felt something you hadn’t felt in a long time. Freedom.

────୨ৎ────

The rain was merciless, soaking through your clothes, and clinging to your skin. You didn’t know where you were going at first, your mind spinning, your body on autopilot. The fight with Eric replayed in a relentless loop in your head—his cruel words, the venom in his voice, his tight grip, the way he’d dismissed you as though you were nothing.

For the first time, it felt like the truth had been laid bare: there was nothing left to fight for. The engagement was over. The fantasy you’d tried to sell yourself had crumbled. And yet, even knowing you had made the right choice, fear lingered in every step you took.

You had nowhere to go. No one to call.

Except him.

The thought stopped you in your tracks, rain dripping from your hair as you stared blankly at the empty street. Lando. His name echoed in your mind like a whispered confession, both a comfort and a torment. 

Was it even a good idea? You hadn’t properly spoken in years, and the when you saw him today, all you’d shared were strained smiles and awkward pleasantries.

But who else could you turn to? You weren’t ready to explain this to anyone—not your family, not your friends. You needed… warmth. Safety. And despite everything that had happened between you and Lando, he was the only person you trusted with your broken pieces.

With shaky breaths, you forced yourself to move, the address to his apartment burned into your memory.

When you reached his door, your heart pounded so loudly it drowned out the sound of the rain. You hesitated, your fist hovering just inches away from the wood. What if he didn’t want to see you? What if this was a mistake? But as you stood there, shivering and drenched, you realized you had no other place to go.

Your knock was weak, barely audible over the downpour, but it was all you could muster. When the door opened, Lando froze, speechless. His eyes widened as he looked at you, but the concern that quickly followed melted the knot in your stomach. You must’ve looked like a mess—drenched, shivering, your face pale and streaked with rain and tears.

“Fucking hell, Angel,” He said softly, his voice warm despite the shock in his eyes. The nickname he used to address you slipped uncontrollably from his lips, bringing back that warm feeling in your stomach. “What happened?”

You opened your mouth to respond, but the words wouldn’t come. Instead, a sob escaped, and the tears you had tried so hard to hold back began streaming down your face.

“Come in.” Lando murmured, stepping aside to let you in. 

The warmth and coziness of his apartment were a stark contrast to the cold rain outside. The soft glow of the lights wrapped around you, but it wasn’t enough to stop the trembling in your body. Lando took one look at you and made a quick decision.

“Jesus, you’re freezing,” He said gently. “Come on, let’s get you warmed up.”

He led you down the hallway to the bathroom, the soft hum of the heating vent the only sound as he turned on the shower. Steam began to fill the room, fogging the mirror.

“There’s some towels here, and I’ll get you some clothes you can change into,” He said, placing a fresh stack of towels on the counter. “Take as long as you need.”

You nodded, your voice still caught in your throat.

“I’ll be right outside if you need anything.” He added, his gaze steady but filled with worry.

As soon as the door clicked shut, you let yourself crumble. The hot water cascaded over you, washing away the cold and the rain but not the ache in your chest. Your sobs echoed in the small bathroom, raw and unrestrained.

Lando never left his place. He sat outside, his back against the door, listening. Every muffled sob that reached his ears made his heart clench. He hated hearing you like this, hated that you were in so much pain. He wanted to fix it, to fix everything, but he knew better than to rush you.

He couldn’t shake off the feeling that this might also be what you had sounded like when he left.

Minutes passed, maybe longer, before the sound of the water stopped. Lando stood up, his hands fidgeting nervously as he waited. When you finally opened the door, wrapped in the towel, he handed you his clothes and you hid in the bathroom again. Once you were done dressing up, you came out in one of his hoodies and a pair of sweats he’d left for you. Your eyes were red and swollen, but there was a faint glimmer of calm.

“Feeling a bit better?” He asked softly, his voice tentative.

You nodded, your arms wrapped tightly around yourself. “Thanks.” You whispered, your voice barely audible.

He gestured with his head toward the couch, and you followed him silently. The room felt heavy with unspoken words as you sat down, tucking your legs beneath you. Lando sat beside you, leaving enough space to give you room but close enough that you could feel his presence.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Lando asked, his voice low and careful and you nodded. His eyes scanned your face, searching for answers. “Are you okay?”

The concern in his voice nearly broke you. You nodded quickly, playing with the sleeves of his hoodie that was too big for you. 

“I’m fine now. I just— …” You paused, the words sticking in your throat. “I didn’t know where else to go.”

He tilted his head, studying you. “What’s going on? What happened?” his voice was soft and tender.

“It’s complicated.” You whispered, avoiding his gaze.

Lando exhaled, standing up and running a hand through his curls. “Of course it is,” He muttered under his nose, his tone tinged with sarcasm. “It always is with you, isn’t it?”

You flinched, and he immediately softened, his frustration melting into guilt. “Fuck, I’m sorry,” Lando said quickly. “That was uncalled for. I just—” He cut himself off, pacing for a moment before turning back to you. “You, showing up here out of nowhere… it’s a lot to process.”

“I didn’t mean to put this on you,” You said quietly, your voice barely audible. “I just didn’t have anyone else.”

His expression shifted, guilt flickering in his eyes. “You don’t have to explain, Angel.” He replied, sitting down across from you, the unexpected nickname he used only for you made your stomach do a flip. But there was something guarded in his posture, like he was holding back.

The silence stretched between you, heavy and suffocating. Finally, he broke it. “So, what’s the deal? Did the perfect fiancé finally show his true colors?”

Your stomach twisted, and you looked away. “Actually… yeah.”

Lando’s brow furrowed, the sarcasm dropping from his face. “What do you mean?”

You hesitated, the words catching in your throat. But there was no point in hiding it anymore. “I broke the engagement,” You admitted, your voice trembling. “I left him, Lando.”

For a moment, he didn’t move, didn’t speak. He just stared at you, his expression unreadable. “You… broke it off?”

You nodded, tears welling up in your eyes again. “He wasn’t who I thought he was,” You said, your voice shaking. “He… he hurt me. In ways I didn’t even realize until it was too late.”

Lando’s jaw tightened, his hands clenching into fists. “Hurt you how?” He asked, his voice low, dangerous.

You didn’t answer, but his eyes drifted to the faint bruise on your wrists, and you saw the moment he pieced it together. His face darkened, his chest rising and falling as he fought to keep his composure.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” He asked, his voice breaking slightly.

“Why would I?” You shot back, the bitterness in your tone surprising both of you. “You left. You didn’t even say goodbye.”

Lando flinched, his guilt written all over his face. “I know,” He said softly. “I know I fucked up. But if I had known…” He trailed off, his voice thick with regret. “I would’ve done something. I would’ve—”

“You didn’t,” You interrupted, your voice cracking. “You didn’t do anything, Lando. You just disappeared.”

The silence that followed was deafening. He looked at you, his eyes filled with so many emotions you couldn’t begin to untangle them. “You’re right,” He uttered finally. “I was a coward. I thought I was protecting you by staying away, but I was only protecting myself.”

You let out a shaky breath, your hands trembling in your lap. “I don’t know what I’m doing anymore,” You admitted. “I just… I needed to feel safe. And for some reason, you’re the only person who makes me feel that way.”

Lando’s gaze softened, and the silence between you stretched like a chasm. You looked down at your hands, still trembling despite the warmth of Lando’s hoodie wrapped around you. The storm outside mirrored the one brewing inside—chaotic, relentless, and impossible to ignore.

“You’re safe here, Angel.” Lando had said. His voice was steady, but the tension in his body betrayed his emotions. You wanted to believe him. But after everything… could you?

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The weight of unspoken words hung heavy in the room, filling the space between you. 

Finally, you broke the silence. “Why did you leave?” Your voice was quiet but laced with a sharp edge. “I know we weren’t together, but.. we did you leave?”

Lando’s shoulders stiffened. “I thought we have already covered this…” He said, a hint of frustration creeping into his tone.

“No, we haven’t.” You shook your head, your gaze locking onto his. “You just gave me excuses. You said you were a coward, that you thought staying away was better for me. But why, Lando? Why did you leave without saying anything? Why did you let me think I was just… disposable?”

His face twisted with guilt, and he ran a hand through his curls. “I didn’t think you’d understand,” He admitted, his voice rough. “I was scared. I was so damn scared of what I was feeling, of how much you meant to me. And then I saw those photos—”

“Those photos,” You interrupted, bitterness seeping into your voice. “The ones with that girl? The ones that made me feel like I never meant anything to you?”

He flinched, his jaw tightening. “It wasn’t what it looked like.”

“Then what was it?” You snapped, the anger you’d buried for years bubbling to the surface. “Because from where I was standing, it looked like you moved on in a heartbeat. Like I was just another girl to you.”

“You weren’t!” His voice rose, his frustration spilling over. “You were never just another girl. Don’t you get that?”

“Then why?” Your voice cracked, tears stinging your eyes. “Why did you leave me like that? Why didn’t you fight for me? Fight for us?”

He stared at you, his eyes filled with anguish. “Because I didn’t think I deserved you,” He said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. “I thought I’d only screw things up more if I stayed. And when those photos came out… I was ashamed. I thought if I called, if I tried to explain, it would only make things worse.”

“And you think disappearing was the best option?”

“I didn’t know what else to do,” He admitted. “I was young, stupid, and scared. And I’ve regretted it every single day since.”

The sincerity in his voice cut through your anger like a knife, leaving you raw and exposed. You turned away, wrapping your arms around yourself as if to shield against the vulnerability threatening to consume you.

“I needed you,” You whispered. “I needed you, Lando, and you weren’t there.”

“I know.” His voice was soft, filled with regret. “And I’m sorry. I’ll never be able to say it enough—I’m sorry.”

The room fell silent again, save for the sound of the rain pounding against the windows. You closed your eyes, taking a deep breath to steady yourself. “I don’t know if I can trust you again.” You said honestly, your voice trembling.

“I don’t expect you to,” He replied. “Not right away. But I’m here now. And I want to earn it, even if it takes the rest of my life.”

You turned to look at him, searching his face for any hint of insincerity. But all you saw was raw, unfiltered honesty. “Do you mean that?”

“I do.” His voice was firm, resolute. “I’m not going anywhere this time. I promise.”

You nodded slowly, the tension in your chest easing just slightly. “But.. I don’t know if I’m ready for anything more than this—just talking, figuring things out.”

“That’s okay,” He said quickly. “We can take it slow. As slow as you need.”

A small, tentative smile tugged at the corner of your lips. For the first time in years, it felt like the walls you've built around your heart were beginning to crack.

Lando hesitated before speaking again. “What about Eric?”

You exhaled shakily, your fingers brushing against the faint bruise on your wrist. “It’s over. I broke the engagement. There’s nothing left to say.”

His eyes flickered with something unreadable—relief, anger, protectiveness, all tangled together. “Good,” He said quietly. “You deserve better anyway.”

You looked at him, your chest tightening. “I don’t even know what I deserve anymore.”

“You deserve everything, Angel,” He said without hesitation. “And if you’ll let me, I’ll spend the rest of my life proving it to you.”

For a moment, you couldn’t breathe. The sincerity in his voice, the way his eyes held yours—it was almost too much. 

But then you nodded, a single tear slipping down your cheek. “Okay,” You said softly. “But I need time.”

“You’ll have it.” He promised, and you nodded, letting his words settle over you. It wasn’t forgiveness, not yet, but it was something. A tentative step forward.

As the storm outside began to ease, you found yourself studying him—his longer curls, the shadow of stubble along his jaw, the quiet determination in his eyes. He was still Lando, the boy who’d once made your heart race, but he was different now. Older, wearier.

A familiar stranger who somehow made you feel seen again, even after all the pain.

And maybe, just maybe, that was enough to start again.

© haniette | 2025, all rights reserved.

reuploads and likes are highly appreciated ♡

[em0kuto]

DON’T HESITATE, JUST FALL INTO ME, MY GIRL.

just thinkin' bout when baji keisuke finally kisses u and it feels like ‘snakelike (the stars collide) – whatsaheart’ [i have put timestamps so u know what part of the song i imagine this to hehe]

summary: fem!reader x final timeline!baji, friends-to-lovers, lil yearning sprinkled with fluff, i’d say ur looking at early-to-mid 20s before hina and takemichi’s wedding, also featuring baji's mum ryoko!!!!!, hina and takemichi + mentions of emma, mikey, yuzuha, senju, draken and chifuyu

⚠︎ content: kissing (duh - sfw tho), cussing (reader says cunt), alcohol consumption (nothing bad), speeding mentioned near the ending. this is also my first time doing this so if i missed anything pls let me know ♡

word count: 5.5k

You knew having multiple small messages from Keisuke Baji could mean one of two things: something pissed him off or someone pissed him off.

Baji’s past coping mechanisms also weren’t stranger to you, realising that after his eighteenth birthday that he may not get off so easily. So, instead of punching a stranger in the face or setting cars on fire, he opted for small time texting rants – a habit he picked up from you.

But for some odd reason, whether it was the entertainment from his micro-rage or simply that he thought something you did was helpful and not ‘that TikTok shit’, you couldn’t help but feel a little special that the Keisuke Baji would always break his ever-so-tough exterior around you. You must’ve been oblivious to your connection as your friends started to notice it more, and like a timed notification, Baji’s Wednesday evening rant lit up your phone hinting the same, repeated prelude titled ‘the idiot professor”.

keisuke: [y/n] [20:38]

keisuke: This professor [20:38]

keisuke: Wouldn’t be able to tell a fuckin dog or cat apart [20:39]

keisuke: He’s as dense as Takemichi [20:44]

keisuke: I don’t even know why I keep doing this shit [20:45]

“Is that Baji again, [y/n]?” Takemichi snickered, tapping his chopsticks at you, completely unaware Baji had just smoked him.

“Mhm. And, apparently, his teacher is as dense as you, Takemichi” you said proudly, wiggling your eyebrows.

“Hey!” Takemichi awkwardly retorted. A blush of embarrassment slowly crept up his face as you and Hina couldn’t help but laugh at his deflation. She offered a chuckled “aw, Takemichi!” as she kissed his cheek and listed all the things he wasn’t ‘dense’ at. Seeing Hina and Takemichi together was cute and from observation, Hina knew all the right things to say or do for Takemichi to feel reassured about his new label. You couldn’t help but smile at the two of them, wondering about the feeling of having someone who knew you that well. The type of someone who knew exactly what to say or do give you reassurance in your time of insecurity, no matter how big or small it was.

You were mid swig of your drink when what you would consider your most deranged thought stormed your mind, and you could have sworn the same embarrassment flushed your face as Takemichi’s — is this how Baji felt when you’d console him during his texting rants?

Your cozy, little fantasy was interrupted when a sudden drop in temperature jolted you back to reality. You shook your head, hoping the diabolical thoughts that just plagued your mind were metaphorically flying out of you. Thankfully, Hina and Takemichi’s attention were still on each other, otherwise you wouldn’t have heard the last of it – especially if Mikey found out the reason why. Mikey theoretically finding out overthrew your thoughts, now being cruelly reminded of the reason you were with Hina and Takemichi in the first place – the reason for your own texting rants – stupid fucking boys. You were honestly convinced you had ‘fuck me over, please 😍’ written on your forehead due to your track record.

Although Baji was usually host to your failed situationship rants, Hina was the first one you messaged this time, mostly because you were not in the mood for Baji’s predictable response. From the amount of times you had heard it, you could recite the messages word-by-word like the finale of your favourite tv show.

keisuke: Like I always say

keisuke: It’s your fault you go for dumbasses

keisuke: You give too much

keisuke: Stop letting people take advantage of that. Your too good for it

You could have scolded Baji each time for the improper use of ‘you’re’ and ‘your’ but the sincerity that came from his way of words always stopped you from doing so. Your body felt warm again, unsure if it was because of the alcohol or because you recalled the one rare time Baji followed up his ‘I told you so’ tale:

keisuke: Funny you also think I’d actually let you end up with someone like that

keisuke: I’d kick his ass

keisuke: Idiot

You learnt early on in your friendship that Baji’s ultimate term of endearment was an insult. He usually never led or followed his bluntness with reasoning but always made a conscious effort to soften his approach with you. It was this side of Keisuke Baji that you couldn’t shake out of your head, even if you tried to convince yourself you already did.

“Don’t worry about him, [y/n]! Takemichi should know he can never win against us” she giggled with her signature closed-eye smile.

The rest of your third-wheel dinner was filled with topics of old memories and upcoming events, and mid-sentence discussing the couple’s wedding plans, Takemichi started hiccupping which was an indicator that it was time to call it a night. You walked outside after Hina sneakily paid your bill as a treat for your recent misfortune, and although the weather was warming up again, the coolness in the air made you feel sober. You bid the pair farewell, only to see poor Hina holding Takemichi upright so he could attempt to walk in a straight line. You pulled out your phone to take a quick photo, knowing you would send to her later.

The time lit up your lock screen. Shit. It was later than you thought, and you weren’t keen on succumbing to Baji for a ride home considering the state your imagination was in. You reached for your phone again after the sound of buzzing fillied the atmosphere, only to realise that it wasn’t your phone making the noise. The rumbling got louder, knowing that whatever was coming your way was getting closer and just like a manifestation, Baji’s bike rounded the street corner.

He pulled up directly in front of you, flashing his signature smirk accompanied by the canines he inherited from his mother. You could have sworn the amount of heat waves Baji caused for you tonight were going to make your feel sick, not helping that he dawned his signature oversized-black-tee-baggy-jeans look with a few chains – aka your favourite look of his that was completely inappropriate for someone who rode a motorbike.

“Are you serious…” you looked at him confused.

“Checked your location. Knew you’d need a ride. Get on” Baji was still smirking, looking down at his feet.

“The intonation makes it out of the text messages, huh?” you snickered as he handed you the helmet he should’ve been wearing, surprised that Baji hadn’t asked you the definition of intonation which meant he must have been paying attention in class. The weight of the helmet caused your shoulder to dip. You had ridden with Baji before but never remembered his stupid helmet being this heavy. Why was everything feeling so exaggerated right now?

“Why is this so heavy? And why is your head so big? I’m being swallowed in this thing” you went to tighten the strap, but Baji beat you to it.

“If I tell you it’s ‘giving cute biker girl’, will you shut up?” he looked you in the eyes and tapped the helmet.

Oh boy. You really had to try and convince yourself you weren’t taken-aback by Baji’s choice of words, thankful you could hide inside his helmet so he wouldn’t be audience to the same flushed look you spawned not too long ago, alongside the butterflies that began to stir in your stomach.

“Gotta stop by my place before I take you home, that okay?”

“Your place is the complete opposite way. that’s just wasting—”

“You can just say you don’t want a ride home” he teased, raising his eyebrows. You huffed in response, knowing you couldn’t argue your way out.

The streetlamps looked like neon strobe lights because of how fast Baji was going but the illumination defined the most striking angles on his face. Every time Baji rode his bike, you noticed his eyes glistened brighter than any light you had seen but his face was always juxtaposed by waves of deep concentration. Baji felt your stare exuding from his helmet, making sure not to say or do anything that would shock you out of the way you were holding onto him. He pulled into his apartment complex, only for both of you to see Ryoko peeking out the window, meaning she must’ve recognised the sound of his bike too.

“Come up. Ma hasn’t seen you in a while” he said while taking the helmet off your head, laughing at the sudden helmet hair left behind. Realising the root of his laughter, you panicked looking into the small mirror affixed to the bike.

“But I’ve been drinking and probably look a mess!”

“Shut up, idiot. You look fine” Baji reassured you as he started smoothing your hair down. You weren’t sure if Ryoko was still watching from the window but right now all you could focus on was Baji. He stared back at you with the same glisten in his eyes when he rode, holding the tips of your hair in his hands, only for you to pull back when you realised what was happening.

“I-I hope you know I also only agreed because that little, sweet, angel cat might be here”

“Oh, yeah? What makes you think he wants to meet you anyway?”

“Because you bought a ‘cute biker girl’ home” Baji laughed loudly and shook his head, and you swore you heard the exact same reaction come from the upstairs window.

You both shuffled through the stairwell only to be hit with a wave of nostalgia from the marks on the door. You could recount the story behind each one – the slightly bowed hinge from when he locked himself out and had to break in, the massive scratch from when you carried each other drunkenly up the stairs and fell into the corner, the paint chips on the right side from throwing your phone at Baji and hitting the door instead because he reminded you your anime crush “isn’t even real”. He watched you intently as he turned the keys in the lock.

“This one’s my favourite” Baji pointed at the dinted door number, the memory of you begging him not to take his anger out on the last asshole that broke your heart, opting to punch the door instead. You chuckled at the recollection, remembering Baji threatening that he could set just one more car on fire. Before you could respond, Ryoko swung the door open.

“Well, if it isn’t, [y/n]” pulling you into a small embrace while Baji mumbled some profanity, squeezing through the door behind you.

“Ryoko-san! It’s so good to see you!”

“I hope my son has been treating you well” Ryoko cheekily smiled at you, backhanding Baji for his little outbursrt.

“Uhhh, h-he has!” you stood up straight, the words getting caught in your throat.

“Oh my god, Ma. Stop being weird!”

There was no telling that Baji was Ryoko’s son as the two began arguing back and forth in the exact same manor, strangely making you feel at home. Feelings of familiarity seeped through your body, causing it to flush warm again while you examined the living room and identical to the restaurant, you were shocked back to reality once you saw it – a framed picture of you and Baji from your high school graduation, situated right in the middle of Ryoko’s family photos. Your eyes widened and the words in the room became less like tv static.

“Okay. Yes. Sorry. You’re the boss” Baji paused between every single-syllable word, walking to his room like a dog with a tail between their legs. You were left alone with Ryoko and her post-argument muttering while she took a sip of her drink, wanting to pick up a conversation with her but based on the potential of her seeing you and her son outside earlier you were not sure of what to say.

“Alright, Ma, we’re going. Be back soon” Baji appeared back in the living room, saving you from what could have been the most awkward conversation of your life.

“Uh-huh. Bye [y/n]!” she sing-songed as you waved her goodbye.

The ride between Baji’s and your place was silent. A comfortable silent. The type of silent recognisable between a long-term couple. You felt guilty knowing Baji had to go halfway across town, but you couldn’t help the desire of wanting your time together to last longer than it needed to. Baji pulled up in-front of your apartment block and sadly, for the final time tonight, your body’s heatwave was interrupted by a now still night.

“Thanks, Keisuke” you jumped off the back of his bike, handing the helmet back.

“It’s nothing. Rather take you home myself and know you’re safe” he looked down, kicking the ground. You were a little stunned by his comment, standing with your hands in your pockets, wide-eyed like you had just been reprimanded. Baji cringed at himself, knowing what he said must have sounded a little sappy, but when he looked up all he could see was the way your eyes glittered at him.

“Here” he reached into his pocket and handed you a small sheet of painkillers and nausea tablets. You were now one hundred percent certain that it wasn’t the alcohol making you feel dizzy.

“Now get inside before you catch a cold... idiot” Baji pinched your nose, softly smiling.

You found it hard to walk away this time, your body wanting to push the boundaries of your friendship, but your mind was reminding you of the consequences if he didn’t feel the same way. You walked away as Baji kept watch until you walked inside. It was nearing midnight and knew you should have been responsible and in bed an hour ago. You dragged yourself into the shower, knowing you’d thank yourself in the morning.

The smell of your body wash wafted beyond your shower, melting comfort into your sweat shorts and baggy tee to match the mood, soon realising the shirt you chose was actually one you stole from Baji weeks ago. The thought of you sleeping in his shirt besotted you, catching yourself smiling only because of the texts that suddenly popped up on your phone.

keisuke: Make sure you take those before you go to sleep [23:57]

keisuke: And drink water when you wake up [23:57]

keisuke: I’m not bringing you anything else tomorrow [23:59]

By the time it took you to get ready for bed, Baji had arrived home hoping that his mother was dead asleep so he wouldn’t have to deal with any of her slightly intoxicated nonsense. He entered the apartment and like you, smiled from the texts on his phone only to realise his reaction when Ryoko snickered from the living room.

“Tch. Why’re you even still up?” he asked annoyedly, kicking off his boots.

“What? A mother can’t wait up for her son?” Ryoko took a sip of the drink she poured. Baji was now convinced his mother’s eyebrows stayed in one position from the number of times he’d seen them that way tonight. He rolled his eyes, b-lining towards the shower before she could say anything else but, unlucky for him, she was too quick.

“I’ve always liked her. Bring her here more” she kept her eyes on the television.

“I can’t just force—”

“I didn’t say force” she paused. “I think you’d be surprised how easy it would be if you just asked”

“Yeah, yeah. Night Ma” Baji blushed hard at his mother’s suggestion.

“Hey. I just want the best for you, okay?” Ryoko trailed off, hanging over the back of the lounge, now facing her son.

“I know” he stood still looking away from her, knowing exactly what she was referring to.

——————

The remainder of your week was rather busy. Between work meetings and seeing the girls in your friendship circle, you barely had time to keep in touch with Baji, except for the occasional pictures of Peke J he would send to you – your favourite one being Peke J cuddled up next to him in his hoodie while playing the game.

Whether it was seeing Yuzuha after her recent trip to Europe with Hakkai, helping Emma shop for her baby or joining Senju for an early workout, each one caught you smiling at your phone. They all questioned you similarly to Takemichi, but you were quick enough to use your date for the weekend as an excuse for your behaviour. Your Saturday date night came around and as you were getting ready, you found yourself sprawled out on your bed nearing 8pm in a last-minute panic spam FaceTime-ing Baji.

“Hey, once sec. I’m just finishing this last game” he spat between ranting to whoever he was playing with on the mic.

“Keisuke, please. I’m stressed. My hair is ugly; my makeup sucks and I hate my outfit–”

“Okay, okay, okay. Stop” the spamming of his controller stopped as he turned off the game to put his full attention on you. You were caught off guard by how good Baji looked right now, hair pulled back into a loose bun and muscles slightly bulging from the workout his fingers must have endured. You knew you were burning eyes through his head right now, or arms for that matter, hoping that you had become a better liar over the years in case he asked if your connection was bad or worse – if you were in love with him.

“Oi, idiot, you there? Just remember, you called me” his voice sounded slightly grumbly.

“Yes, yes, I’m here. Sorry! I’m just feeling a little overwhelmed…” you said shyly, sitting up on your bed, affixing your sticky phone case to the mirror.

 “You’ll be fine. You just tend to overthink. And, when you overthink, you overshare. Trust me, I know” he should have known he would have to deliver his famous pep talk.

“Okay, you’re not helping here! And don’t give me that bullshit ‘just be yourself’ line” you started pacing.

“Even if it’s true, wasn’t planning on it. Just don’t give away everything. I know you’re trusting and all but there’s a part of you that’s eventually going to be special only for one person” the latter of the sentence sounding like a whisper, like he was nervous to say it.

Uh oh. There was that warm feeling in your stomach again. For someone who occasionally matched Takemichi’s alleged density, Baji’s emotional intelligence was incomparable. You knew you had to come up with something sassy immediately before your mind got carried away again.

“Aw, Keisuke! You’re so nice! You must really care about me!” you said in a sarcastic tone, poking your tongue out.

“I don’t. Also, your jeans don’t go with that sweater. Put that skirt on” he pointed to the skirt thrown onto the corner of your bed. You picked it up and moved from camera view, completely unaware that Baji specifically chose your outfit combination because it was his favourite on you. You walked back into view and Baji couldn’t help but stare down the barrel of the camera, watching your face concentrate on the way your skirt flared around your thighs and how the bunching of your sweater fit perfectly on top of it.

He swore his heart was going to jump out of his chest, pretending that you were sporting this exact outfit for him. Baji wanted to tell you were beautiful and that no one else deserved to have you put this much effort into how you look. He wanted to be the one to show you how perfect you were, whether it be this outfit or your stupid helmet hair.

“Okay, you were definitely right. Skirt it is. You should be my personal stylist from now on” you pouted in the mirror, posing all angles of your outfit because you actually felt pretty. Baji gave you the same soft smile from a few nights ago, seeing you completely comfortable before him, really considering sabotaging your date by telling you to go out with him instead.

“I’m always right. Get going before you’re late” he eyed to your favourite bag, the one that went with everything with little hanging charms attached.

“Thankyouthankyouthankyou! I don’t know what I’d do without you” you waved him goodbye and hung up the phone. You couldn’t shake the weird feeling in your mind going to meet your date. You felt guilty; like you were betraying Baji by doing this but why did it also make you feel so hypocritical knowing that you were absolutely devastated that he didn’t even try to tell you not to go?

——————

Baji sat at home, playing solo rounds with no success, trying not to kick himself at the fact he let you go on another date with some asshole who didn’t deserve you. After losing another round, he angrily threw his headset off and ran his hands over his face. He groaned into the back of his chair before his phone began flashing, jumping up as soon your ringtone contrasted the dullness of his room not even an hour into your date, letting it ring three times before answering.

“Hey, you o–?”

“Keisuke. Can you come and get me, please?” you were sobbing hard into the phone.

“I don’t want to talk about it right now. I just–”

“Stop. Just stay where you are, okay?”

“Okay…” you said quietly, although it sounded more like defeat.

You sat outside at a bus stop, still crying from what had occurred in the last hour and thirty minutes, hoping that the familiar rumble would aerate your eardrums soon. You swore you were like those videos with no hashtags that appeared on your feed, the recognisable sound approaching, only to look up at Baji suddenly pulling up next to you.

“Hi” you sniffled, wiping your nose on your sweater.

Baji bounded over, basically pushing his bike away and pulled you into him. His inner voice convinced him to hold you tightly for reassurance but as soon as you fell into him, you became the most soft and delicate flower who would lose their petals if handled too roughly.

“Heyheyhey… what happened, huh?” he asked softly, one hand on your shoulder and the other picking your chin up.

“I don’t know. Just another cunt, I guess” you scowled. Baji could tell you were entering the anger phase by your choice of insult, almost proud at the fact he had finally rubbed off on you one way or another.

“Okay. Let’s go. I’ll take you for a treat and we’ll go for a walk, yeah?” he kept the soft tone, pulling you up by your hands.

“Yes, please”

For the second time that week, found yourself on the back of Baji’s bike, encouraging you to get all your anger out by holding onto him as tight as you could due to the lack of helmets, making you smile at his attempt to fix the shitty situation you were left in.

——————

“Held up my end of the deal, now what happened?” Baji asked, his signature raspy voice replacing the former softness.

“Do I have to?” you groaned. Baji nodded in response, disposing his empty cup and popping the worn wooden spoon in his mouth. You started moving your spoon around the small cup in your hands, trying your best to stall the conversation. Right on queue, Baji noticed your nervousness and sat you down, making sure you felt comfortable to continue.

“Well… let’s just say he didn’t really want to know me, y’know? I don’t even know if that makes sense. It’s just… he didn’t even try to care about anything I said but always had something to say about it” Baji’s body language visibly tensed, fist closing and jaw clenching, instantly regretting not telling you what he wanted on the phone.

“Even when we found something in common, he would patronise and interrogate me to see if I was a ‘fake fan’ or whatever. Made assumptions about me based on my friends and my job. Oh, and don’t even get me started when he tried to ask why I was still single; he already came up with 5 different reasons why before I could even think.”

The tenseness in Baji’s body language lessened as he kept listening to you, intently taking in everything coming out of your mouth, not wanting you to waste any more feelings on this guy. Baji might have been irrational and brash, but his emotional intelligence was unmatched. You quietened down once you noticed Baji’s demeanour, taking note of the care he held for you radiating through his eyes. It relaxed you, and you could feel yourself being magnetised towards him.

“Wanna know what the worst part was? He tried to tell me that my skirt didn’t go with my sweater” you both laughed a little, realising Baji’s intention was to help you see how stupid this guy was.

“Still… I’m just a little mad that I let anyone, let alone a man, speak to me like that. I just don’t understand how some people can just be like that…” you paused before you continued.

“Y’know… It would just be easier if everyone was like you” you said cautiously, both of you completely oblivious to the fact that Baji had edged closer between your legs.

“Me?”

“Yeah, you. Who else am I talking to?” you turned your head away knowing you couldn’t dare look up at him right now. He paused, hesitated almost, eyes trailing to your lips knowing you were about to sigh, reading you easily like quoting his favourite movie.

“You just…” you tilted your head down. “You just... get me”

Your last encounter with similar words flooded your head, now recounting every time it was Baji that said or did that one thing to shift your mood. You always thought that you might’ve played that role for him but the someone you wanted to know you that well was playing his part the entire time. You immediately felt stupid to not have seen it so clearly, now wishing you had actually believed Draken when he said you were the one who softened Keisuke Baji years ago. You were snapped out of the familiar fantasy by the drop in semitone of Baji’s voice, and like a murder confession only to be heard by you, he broke the silence.

“Yeah? Well... let me make it easier for you then” and this time, he didn’t hesitate.

[0:46] All in one motion, Baji gripped the back of your neck pulling you in, fingers glazing your hairline while the other was glued to your hip. He kissed you, and it wasn’t an innocent first kiss shared by a new couple – it was desperate and loaded with years of yearning. You relaxed into him, scrunching the oversized white tee in front of you, indulging in whatever addicting sensation trickled from Baji’s touch. You were caught by surprise as his tongue swiped your bottom lip, causing you to open your mouth, allowing him to intensify his desire.

[0:57] Baji could barely breathe before your fingers tangled through his hair, desperately pulling him back in. Both his hands moved to the back of your neck, mirroring the desire of holding you closer, intensifying your kiss. Being so close to Baji radiated heat from sensory points you didn’t even know existed, becoming overwhelmingly romantic, like heavy rain overflowing in a small puddle. Instinctively, you pulled Baji’s bottom lip through your teeth, finally separating from each other.

[1:07] You created the perfect space for Baji to slide his hands to your face, finding solace on your cheeks. The roughness of his fingertips made your head spin because of how contradictory his gaze was. He pulled you back in, placing two of the most tender pecks on your lips, tilting your head up to give you the third as his thumbs stroked the apples of your cheeks.

[1:18] Baji finally pulled away and you missed how close he was, snaking your hands on top of his to relieve the feeling. He intertwined your fingers, regaining some of his warmth as he rewarded the little gesture by peppering your knuckles with kisses. You observed every single movement he made until it led you to his eyes, realising that the look he was giving you was full of love albeit being one you were very familiar to. The moment felt raw, blissful that you finally didn’t have something to hide behind, breaking down the last bit of vulnerability between you and Baji.

He took his hands from yours and ran his thumb over your lips. You felt that comfortable silence once again, knowing exactly what Baji was saying just by his expression. You were entranced by him, now understanding why you always seemed to prefer brown eyes over any other. The outside world kept moving around you but only you and him existed in a moment that felt like an eternity and if this wasn’t proof of your connection, then you were convinced that the world was lying to you.

“I need you to know… I’ve been wanting to do that for a long time”

“Me too” you whispered, caging him from escaping the spot between your legs. Baji’s hand reached for your face again, familiarly caressing your cheek while he placed a kiss on the other. For someone who didn’t often dwell in relationships, you began to wonder if he had been reading some of Chifuyu’s shoujos by how romantic he actually was. Your phone lit up in from your bag, drawing Baji’s attention to the time.

“C’mon, it’s time I took you home”

You pouted at him, and you saw his heart shatter into a million pieces from your reaction.

“Don’t give me that. We’ve got plenty of time to do this all again, yeah?” he pinched your cheek, physically feeling the smile appear on your face again while you nodded.

You both savoured the slow walk back to his bike, casually sparing each other love-struck glances like a couple in their honeymoon phase. The ride to your place was weirdly comforting, supposing it was from the way holding onto Baji felt now, realising you would have to remind yourself that after tonight the dynamic between you would blossom into something you had always dreamed of. Baji pulled up in front of your place, waiting quietly while you hopped off his back seat. As soon as you hit the pavement, he grabbed your hand, swiping his thumb across your knuckles and locked eyes with you, dragging you in for another kiss.

“Go inside. No catching colds, remember?” he flickered between your eyes and lips.

“Already itching to get rid of me, huh?”

“Never. Not in a million years” usually he would cringe at himself for saying something like that out loud but after your reaction, he would repeat it again and again like your favourite song. You hummed contently, indulging in Baji’s presence, holding you closely before giving you one last kiss.

“Let me know when you get home, okay?” you held his face in your palm before walking away.

“Of course,” he stayed put, making sure you were inside before he left. The adrenaline ran through Baji’s body from finally sharing his most cherished moment with you, making his ride home feel as if he was excessively speeding. He spared no time reaching for his phone to message you once he arrived home, slowly trudging up the staircase as he watched the screen for the three bubbles on the other side.

keisuke: Just got home [00:09]

keisuke: You better be asleep [00:09]

you: kinda hard [00:10]

you: mind racing [00:10]

you: heart beating fast [00:11]

you: lol [00:11]

keisuke: Cute [00:11]

keisuke: Me too [00:12]

keisuke: Now go to bed [00:12]

keisuke: Idiot [00:12]

you: hehe [00:13]

you: night 🖤 [00:13]

Baji walked through the door, gushing at the messages he received, similarly to the scene that unfolded earlier in the week. Ryoko looked up, surprised why he hadn’t greeted her upon walking inside until she saw the look on her son’s face, immediately putting two-and-two together.

“Why’s your face like that?” she asked slyly, brows in the same position as the other night.

Shit. Baji knew exactly what she was referring to, trying not to turn his head too quickly in case he gave himself whiplash – although it could’ve sold his lie a little better.

“Wind was cold on the way back. Makes my face red” he turned away from her, taking off his boots, completely flustered at how she picked up his awkwardness.

“Uh-huh, because there’s soooo much wind right now” she pointed to the open window with no one’s surprise – zero wind.

Baji rolled his eyes, “Whatever. I’m goin’ to sleep”

“You think I’m an idiot, Keisuke? I know when something is going on with you. And don’t think I didn’t know who you ran out of the house for within a minute of taking that phone call! I birthed you, idiot. I know you better than anyone else” she stressed, the scowl on her face more scary than usual, being paired with a cheeky glint in her eye.

Baji huffed before closing the door behind him.

“Anyone else, huh?”

if u made it to the end - THANK U!!!!! i was so nervous writing this LOL. lil shout out to @neeeooon for checking my work + being my number 1 hype woman, ur the best! ps i was quite literally on the way to a sports event but i luv brain rotting more hehe

first header photo cred: @ooooniginigi (on twitter)

© em0kuto '25. pls don’t plagiarise or steal. inspo is fine, just credit me!

日本語で翻訳したかったら、メッセージを送ってください。♡

[soulofapatrick]

Wingspan - Azriel x female reader

Summary: You decide Azriel's lap is where you'll sit which leads to something new

Warnings: Semi-smut; male orgasm

Words: 5K

Notes: I feel like im teasing you all with no real smut these last few ACOTAR stories hehe - you will get your smutty pt 2s I promise

Y/N's POV

As I step into the lounging area of the House of Wind, the warmth from the fire crackles softly in the background, but the room is full of quiet laughter and relaxed conversation. Every seat is taken.

Cassian is sprawled out on the couch nearest the hearth, his muscular frame looking far too large for the space, his arm slung lazily around Nesta. She’s sitting beside him, legs tucked beneath her, engrossed in a book but absently resting her hand on his thigh. Across from them, Feyre sits next to Rhysand, her head resting against his shoulder as they talk quietly, her soft laugh occasionally filling the room. Rhys lounges with that familiar ease, and the moment I step inside, his eyes meet mine. A brow quirks, and I know instantly that he’s about to summon another chair for me.

I shake my head, just the smallest movement, and his smirk widens knowingly.

Elain is seated next to Mor, both chatting lightly, and Amren is perched in an armchair with a drink in hand, glancing up from a book now and then, clearly uninterested in the chatter around her.

But my eyes find him. Azriel is sitting alone in a solitary armchair, slightly apart from the others, his long legs stretched out in front of him, one ankle crossed over the other. His shadows swirl faintly around his shoulders, and he holds a barely touched drink in his hand, eyes distant as if lost in thought.

Without a word, I make a beeline for him, my heart picking up speed as I approach. His hazel eyes lift when he senses me coming, a flicker of surprise crossing his features. His expression softens almost immediately, though, his gaze innocent, confused, as if he can’t quite believe I’m heading straight for him.

I don’t stop. I reach out, nudging his arm gently, and he instinctively shifts the glass from his lap, his breath catching in his throat as I slide smoothly onto it, settling into his lap like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

For a moment, he’s utterly still, his body tense beneath mine. The faintest hint of a blush creeps across his cheeks, and I can feel the way his breath hitches slightly, like he’s trying to keep his composure. His free hand hovers awkwardly for a second, unsure where to rest, before it finally settles on my waist with a cautious, almost reverent touch.

Azriel says nothing, but his lips part as if to speak. I glance up at him, catching the quiet storm of emotions swirling in those beautiful hazel eyes—surprise, uncertainty, but beneath it all, a soft warmth that he tries to hide behind his usual stoicism.

His shadows dance lightly around us, curling closer as if they, too, are reacting to the shift in our proximity. The room around us seems to fade, the others’ conversations becoming distant as we sit there, close, his breath steadying but his chest still rising a little too fast. He’s not used to this kind of attention—not from me.

I reach for the glass in his hand, gently prying it from his grasp. His fingers linger on the cool surface for a moment before he releases it, watching me closely. Without breaking eye contact, I raise the drink to my lips, taking a slow sip. The liquid is smooth, warming as it slides down my throat, but what really heats me is the way Azriel’s eyes darken, honing in on the way my tongue darts across my bottom lip to catch the last drop.

His gaze is searing, intense, as if he's committing the moment to memory, and for a heartbeat, it’s just the two of us in the room. Then, as if by some unseen force—probably Rhys or Amren—the glass vanishes from my hand. I barely have time to process its disappearance before Azriel moves.

It’s instinctual, primal—the way his scarred hands slide up my waist, firm and possessive, pulling me closer. Before I can react, his face buries in the crook of my neck, and I feel the warmth of his breath as he inhales deeply. He’s holding me like he needs to, like being close to me is the only thing keeping him grounded. I can feel the faint tremor in his arms, the way he tries to keep his composure even though he’s giving in to some deeper urge.

I relax against him, sinking into his embrace, my body shifting slightly in his lap as I try to get more comfortable. The movement causes his grip to tighten, and a low, guttural sound escapes him—a growl, quiet but unmistakable, rumbling from deep within his chest. The sound sends a shiver racing down my spine.

That’s when I feel it—him. Stirring beneath me, hardening as I shift, and it’s my turn for my breath to catch in my throat. The weight of him beneath me is undeniable now, and suddenly, every inch of space between us feels electric. I can’t breathe, can’t move, trapped in the tension that pulses between us, my heart hammering against my chest.

Azriel's breath hitches as I shift slightly in his lap again, the movement sending a jolt of awareness through both of us. His grip on my waist tightens, almost as if he’s afraid I might slip away. His face remains buried in the crook of my neck, and I can feel the warm brush of his lips against my skin, his breath coming in uneven, shallow pulls. His scent—night-chilled wind and cedar—wraps around me, intoxicating and overwhelming, and I can't help but lean into him, the tension between us crackling in the air.

For a moment, all I can hear is the sound of his breathing and the steady thrum of my own heartbeat, loud in my ears. His hands, calloused and scarred from years of battle, hold me like I’m something fragile, but there’s a rawness to the way his fingers press into my skin, as though he’s fighting the urge to pull me even closer.

I shift again, just slightly, and this time, a soft moan escapes his lips, barely audible but filled with a need that sends heat pooling low in my belly. My own breath catches in my throat, a shiver coursing through me as I feel the hard length of him press more insistently against me. My heart races, and I know that he feels it too—the pounding rhythm of it against his chest, the rising heat between us.

Azriel finally lifts his head, and when his eyes meet mine, they’re darker than I’ve ever seen them, his usual calm shattered by the hunger simmering just beneath the surface. His gaze flickers to my lips for a brief second, and I see the way his jaw clenches, like he’s holding back from doing something he desperately wants to do.

I feel his grip loosen slightly, his thumbs brushing against the fabric of my shirt in small, absent circles, but his eyes never leave mine. The tension between us hums in the air, almost unbearable now, as if the world around us has disappeared, leaving only this moment. My body feels like it’s on fire, every nerve on high alert from his touch, his closeness.

I open my mouth, trying to find something to say, but before I can, his scarred hand moves, sliding from my waist to the back of my neck. His fingers tangle in my hair, gentle but possessive, as he tilts my head just slightly, his face so close to mine that I can feel the heat of his breath ghosting over my lips.

"Are you... okay?" His voice is low, hoarse, like he’s barely able to get the words out, his control hanging by a thread. There’s a vulnerability in his question, as if he’s afraid of what my answer might be.

I nod, swallowing hard, my body trembling against him. "Yes," I whisper, my voice breathy and uneven, and his grip on my neck tightens, just slightly.

The corners of his lips twitch, but it’s not quite a smile. More like he’s relieved, as if that simple word unlocked something within him. His gaze drops to my lips again, and this time, there’s no mistaking the hunger in his eyes.

Before I can even process it, his mouth is on mine—slow at first, tentative, like he’s still unsure if he’s allowed to have this. But then I kiss him back, and something inside him snaps. His hand tightens in my hair, pulling me closer, and his other arm wraps fully around my waist, holding me against him as his lips move hungrily against mine.

His kiss is fierce, consuming, like he’s been starving for this moment and can’t get enough. I melt into him, my hands finding the front of his shirt, clutching at the fabric as if it’s the only thing tethering me to reality. Every brush of his lips, every stroke of his tongue sends sparks of heat racing through me, and I can’t think—can’t focus on anything except the feel of him, the way he tastes, the way his body responds to every movement I make.

When we finally break apart, both of us are breathless, our foreheads resting together. His chest rises and falls rapidly, his eyes still dark with need, but there’s a softness there now, too, something tender that makes my heart ache.

His voice is barely a whisper when he speaks. "I've wanted this... for so long." His confession hangs in the air between us, raw and unguarded, and I can see the vulnerability in his eyes, the fear that maybe I don’t feel the same.

But I do. Gods, I do.

I press my lips to his again, softer this time, letting him know without words that I want this too—that I want him. His body relaxes beneath me, the tension melting from his shoulders as he kisses me back, slower now, more controlled, savouring the moment as if we have all the time in the world.

And in this moment, in Azriel’s arms, it feels like we do.

Our breaths mingle, warm and shallow, as we slowly pull away from the kiss. The world seems to stand still around us, every sound muffled by the rush of blood in my ears, by the feel of his hands still gripping me, like I’m the only thing keeping him anchored. I finally glance around the room, blinking as if waking from a dream, and that’s when I realise we’re alone.

The others—Cassian, Nesta, Feyre, Rhys, Mor, Amren, and Elain—they’re gone. At some point, they must have quietly slipped away, leaving us here in the lounging area, tangled together on the chair like some kind of forgotten secret. My face flushes with sudden awareness, the intimacy of the moment crashing over me now that we’re truly, utterly alone.

Azriel must sense it—the sudden flush creeping up my neck, the way my body stiffens just slightly. His eyes narrow, a flicker of concern passing through them, but before I can even speak, the world around me shifts.

It happens so fast—one moment I’m sitting on his lap, surrounded by the warmth of the fire, and the next I’m engulfed in darkness. Not just darkness, though—his shadows. They wrap around me, soft, velvety, and thick, their weight comforting and familiar as they pull me under. I barely have time to register the sensation of falling before I land, gently, on something soft beneath me.

I blink up, my breath catching as I realise I’m on my back, lying on the plush surface of a bed. The shadows swirl around me before retreating, leaving nothing but the low glow of candlelight to illuminate the room. My heart pounds in my chest as I take in my surroundings—the large bed beneath me, the soft sheets crumpled around my legs, the faint scent of night-blooming flowers hanging in the air. And then, I see him.

Azriel is hovering above me, his body blocking out most of the dim light, his wings half unfurled like a dark halo around him. His hands are braced on either side of my head, caging me in, and his face is only inches from mine. The shadows still dance around his shoulders, swirling lazily, but his gaze… his gaze is locked on me, and it’s intense, burning with something that makes my breath catch all over again.

He’s staring at me like I’m something precious, something he can’t quite believe he’s allowed to have. His lips part as if to speak, but he hesitates, his eyes flicking over my face as if he’s memorising every detail. His presence is overwhelming—warm and solid and intoxicating, and I can’t help the way my body reacts to him, my skin buzzing with the nearness of him.

Azriel’s wings flutter slightly as he hovers above me, his breath coming in short, ragged bursts, eyes locked onto mine with a fire that seems barely contained. The room around us is dim, the only light spilling in from the moon outside the windows, casting long, gentle shadows that seem to dance across his features. His wings frame him, dark and powerful, the membranous folds trembling with barely concealed tension.

I feel it too, the overwhelming tension that hangs between us—thick, electric, like a storm about to break. My pulse races, the heat between us coiling tight in my chest, and I can’t help but take in the sight of him. His muscles are taut beneath his shirt, his shoulders broad and wings extended just enough that I can see them twitching, the sensitivity of that velvety skin so evident even from where I lay beneath him.

His eyes are locked on me, dark and molten, and the connection between us, the bond we share, hums with the weight of his desire, of his need. I feel his emotions as if they’re my own—raw, unfiltered hunger. It’s like standing on the edge of a cliff, knowing there’s no way back, and part of me is already tumbling over it.

The bond pulses with an intoxicating mixture of want and restraint. I sense his struggle to hold back, to keep himself in check, even though the thread of control is so thin it feels like it could snap at any moment. His shadows swirl restlessly around us, as if they, too, are caught up in this moment, drawn to the fire igniting between us.

“Azriel…” I whisper, my voice barely audible in the quiet of the room, but the sound seems to break whatever thread of control he was holding onto.

His gaze softens, and without a word, his head dips, his lips brushing against my throat, feather-light but sending sparks racing through my veins. His breath is warm against my skin as he inhales deeply, as if he’s savouring the moment, the feel of me beneath him.

“Do you have any idea what you do to me?” His voice is a low, gravelly whisper against my neck, filled with equal parts wonder and restraint. His hands, those scarred, powerful hands, slip down to my waist again, pulling me closer to him as he presses his body flush against mine, his weight grounding me.

I shiver beneath him, the flush on my face deepening as I feel him everywhere—his solid chest pressed against mine, his hips brushing against my legs, his scent surrounding me, wrapping me in warmth and desire. My pulse races, and I know he can feel it, can hear it with those sharp senses of his.

I open my mouth to respond, but the words die in my throat as he lifts his head, his eyes meeting mine again, dark and full of that smouldering intensity that makes me feel like I’m the only person in the world. His thumb brushes against my hip, a simple touch, but it sends a wave of heat coursing through me.

Azriel's lips curl into the faintest of smiles, and then, as if unable to hold back any longer, he leans down, his lips capturing mine in a kiss that’s slower this time, more deliberate. It’s not rushed or desperate like before, but deep, exploring, savouring. His mouth moves against mine, teasing, tasting, and I can’t help but arch into him, the heat between us growing more intense with every passing second.

The soft sheets crumple beneath me as I reach up, my fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him closer as I kiss him back with everything I have. He responds with a low, guttural sound in the back of his throat, the sound vibrating against my lips, and it sends another shiver down my spine.

His body shifts above me, his weight pressing me deeper into the mattress, and I feel the hardness of him, unmistakable now, as he presses against me. My breath hitches, and I can’t stop the way my hips move, instinctively arching up toward him, seeking more of that delicious contact.

Azriel breaks the kiss with a sharp intake of breath, his eyes hooded and dark as he pulls back just enough to look at me. His expression is raw, full of want and need, but there’s something else there, too—something vulnerable, as if he’s asking for permission.

"Tell me to stop if you want me to," he murmurs, his voice hoarse, barely above a whisper, but I can hear the restraint, the effort it takes for him to hold back.

I meet his gaze, my heart pounding, and slowly, deliberately, I shake my head. “Don’t stop.”

That’s all it takes.

The moment the words leave my lips, Azriel’s entire demeanour shifts. The restraint he’s been holding onto starts to unravel, his gaze darkening to a molten amber that sends a shiver through me. His hands tighten on my waist as though he’s been waiting for this—waiting for permission to lose control.

And then, his mouth crashes back onto mine, but this time the kiss is deeper, hungrier, as if he’s been starved for this. His tongue teases mine, coaxing and tasting, and my body responds with an intensity that surprises even me. I can’t help but arch into him, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt as I pull him closer, needing more of him, more of his touch.

Azriel groans softly, the sound rumbling through his chest and vibrating against me. His hand slides down to my thigh, his strong fingers digging into the soft skin as he hitches my leg over his hip. The movement presses our bodies together in a way that has me gasping, feeling every inch of him against me.

And gods, he feels good. So good it’s almost overwhelming.

He drags his lips from mine, trailing hot kisses down my jaw and to my neck. Each one is deliberate, like he’s savouring the taste of me, and I tilt my head, giving him more access. He doesn’t hesitate. His teeth graze the sensitive skin of my throat, and I gasp, the sensation sending sparks of pleasure racing through my veins. His wings shift slightly behind him, a subtle twitch as if even they are responding to the growing tension.

I slide my hands down his back, feeling the hard muscles beneath the fabric, and then lower, fingers brushing the edge of his wings. His reaction is immediate. A low, guttural sound rumbles from his chest, and his wings flare, just slightly, the movement causing him to press more firmly against me.

I do it again, trailing my fingers along the sensitive membrane, and Azriel gasps this time, his breath hitching. His wings are trembling under my touch, the connection between us growing more electric.

"Careful," he murmurs, his voice hoarse, strained. "They’re... sensitive."

I smirk, teasing him again with the softest brush of my fingertips along the arch of his wing, watching as his reaction mirrors the way he would if I touched him elsewhere—his body tensing, his grip tightening on my waist, his breath catching in his throat.

“Sensitive?” I murmur back, voice low, playful. “Good to know.”

Before I can do it again, Azriel’s patience seems to snap. In one swift motion, he pulls back, grabbing the hem of my shirt and yanking it over my head, discarding it without a second thought. His eyes rake over me, dark and full of hunger, and he lets out another growl, the sound making my pulse race.

"Beautiful," he murmurs, barely loud enough to hear. But I do, and it sends a flush of heat through me. 

Without hesitation, his hands return to my body, but this time, he doesn’t stop. His mouth follows the path of his fingers, trailing hot kisses down my neck, across my collarbone, and lower still. His lips and hands explore every inch of me as if memorising me, worshiping me.

And all the while, his wings—those magnificent, powerful wings—shudder in time with his touch, as if they are just as desperate for contact, just as in need of attention.

My breath hitches as I lift a hand, letting my fingers gently trail over the scars that line his forearms, feeling the tension thrumming beneath his skin. His breath falters, and I can sense him tip just a little closer to losing himself, feel the wild, unconfined need rippling through the bond.

Without breaking eye contact, I let my hand drift higher, toward his wings.

His reaction is immediate. The moment my fingertips graze the soft, sensitive skin of his wing, a shudder runs through him. His wings flare slightly, trembling as though he’s fighting not to let them fully expand. I can feel his breath catch, the bond between us flaring with the intensity of his pleasure, the sensation so strong it nearly knocks the breath from my lungs.

I don’t stop, letting my fingers trail along the edge of his wing, marvelling at how the slightest touch sends shockwaves through his body. His wings twitch, and his control slips just a little further. His whole body is trembling now, the tension in him barely held together, and the bond surges with the primal, visceral pleasure he’s feeling.

"You’re playing with fire," he growls, his voice low and dangerous, but there’s a glint of amusement, a challenge hidden behind the heat.

Before I can respond, he’s kissing me again, harder this time, more possessive. His hands slide lower, fingers digging into my hips as he presses his body more firmly against mine, and I can feel every inch of him, hard and ready, against me.

The intensity between us builds, a slow, burning heat that’s all-consuming, and I can’t help the soft moan that escapes me, my body arching into his touch. A soft groan escapes him, low and guttural, as his hands grip my waist, holding me as if I’m the only thing anchoring him to reality. But when I press a little harder, tracing the ridges of his wing, something in him snaps.

He buries his face in the crook of my neck with a desperate, almost feral groan, his breath hot and ragged against my skin. I feel the sharp bite of his teeth grazing my neck, almost too hard, but the pain mingles with pleasure so intense it sends a shiver down my spine. His hands tighten around me, pulling me impossibly closer as his wings tremble violently beneath my touch.

Before I realise it, Azriel’s entire body convulses with the force of it, a full-body shudder that ripples through him as he comes undone, his breath heavy and laboured, his wings quivering beneath my hands as the overwhelming pleasure tips him over the edge. His face remains buried in my neck, his lips pressed hard against my skin, and I can feel the pulse of his heartbeat racing, hear the low, guttural groan that escapes him as his body tenses and then releases in wave after wave of pleasure. His hips jerk into mine and I can feel the way embarrassment tinges the thread of our bond to I just kiss the side of his forehead as he rides out his orgasm. 

The bond between us flares white-hot, filled with the intensity of his release, and I can’t help but gasp, feeling every shudder, every tremor as if it’s my own. His wings continue to tremble beneath my touch, and I keep my fingers there, gently stroking the sensitive skin, letting him ride out the final waves of pleasure until his body slowly begins to relax.

Azriel’s breath is still hot against my neck, his body pressed so intimately against mine that I can feel every lingering tremor that still rocks through him. For a moment, neither of us moves, suspended in the quiet aftermath, with only the sound of his heavy breathing and the rapid beat of our hearts filling the room. But then, I feel it—the unmistakable tension of his body growing rigid again, the slow but deliberate shift of his hips against mine as the evidence of his renewed desire presses hard against my thigh.

Slowly, Azriel raises his head from where he’d buried it in my neck, his breathless groans now replaced with quiet, almost desperate pants. His hazel eyes lock onto mine, and they’re no longer merely molten—they’re molten chocolate, deep and swirling with so much raw need that it nearly knocks the breath from my lungs. His gaze is intense, but beneath the fire burning there, I see something else—something that makes my heart stutter in my chest.

He’s pleading.

“I need you,” he whispers, voice rough and low, his hands shaking as they grip my waist just a little tighter. His forehead rests against mine, eyes heavy-lidded but full of a barely contained hunger. His lips part as if he’s about to speak again, but it’s as though the words are too difficult to form. Instead, they tumble out, strained and needy, “Please…”

There’s no mistaking the fervent desire coursing through him. His body, his wings, even the bond between us pulses with it. He’s already hard, ready, and I can feel it—the urgency in every inch of him as his hips press forward, seeking any relief. But despite the wild hunger coursing through him, despite how his entire body shakes with need, he still waits. He still pauses. His fingers twitch slightly at my sides as if every fibre of his being is fighting for control, waiting for permission.

The gentleman in him, even in this frenzy, is waiting for me to say yes.

One word, a singular thought, chants in my head over and over again, echoing through the bond, through every breath I take as I look up at him. It’s a need that matches his, an all-consuming fire that burns hotter with every second that ticks by.

Mate.

I reach for his shirt without thinking, my hands trembling with the same need that’s consuming him. My fingers curl into the fabric, and I don’t even hesitate. I rip it in two with a force I didn’t know I had, the sound of tearing fabric filling the room as the shirt falls away from his body in tatters.

Azriel lets out a low, rough groan as the shirt is discarded, his wings flaring slightly, and his eyes darken even further—if that’s possible. His skin is flushed, the muscles of his chest and arms rippling under the soft moonlight, and I can’t help but run my hands across the broad expanse of his chest, feeling the way his breath stutters beneath my touch.

But we’re not done.

Azriel’s hands move down to his trousers, and with one smooth motion, he’s shucking them off, kicking them aside with an urgency that leaves my heart racing even faster. The sight of him, naked and unashamed, standing over me with every inch of him ready and willing, sends a fresh wave of desire crashing through me.

My own body burns, flushed with heat as I feel the bond between us pulsing with an overwhelming surge of need. He moves with precision, fingers deft but trembling as he does the same to me, discarding every layer between us until there’s nothing left, until I’m as bare to him as he is to me.

His eyes never leave mine, and there’s something almost reverent in the way he looks at me now, like he’s seeing me for the first time, or maybe like I’m the only thing that exists in this moment. His hands are gentle as they skim over my skin, but there’s a trembling edge to his touch, a tension that speaks of the frenzied desire threatening to overtake him.

And through the bond, I feel it too—the storm brewing inside both of us, the need to come together, to consummate what’s been simmering between us for so long.

Azriel’s wings twitch, his breathing erratic as he hovers above me, every muscle in his body taut with restraint. He lowers himself, his body pressing against mine, skin to skin, and I feel the weight of him, the heat of him. His breath ghosts over my lips, and his voice, husky and raw, whispers again, “Tell me… tell me what you want.”

I feel his body trembling, barely held together by the thread of control that’s slipping fast. His hands are on either side of me, but it’s his wings that twitch, sensitive and exposed, sending a shudder through him every time they brush against the sheets. His eyes plead with me, and I know that this moment is the tipping point. All I have to do is speak the word, give him the permission he’s so desperately seeking.

And the bond between us pulses, thundering in my chest, as that singular word echoes louder and louder in my mind.

Now.

ACOTAR Masterlist TAG LIST - updated 12th Oct 2024

[bunnyyism]

figure you out. | sae itoshi x reader. w/c; 1.5k

surprise hehe :3 this has been sitting in the drafts for a while, but i retooled it and here we are. no warnings, just a little smoochin' heh.

Your friend, Sae Itoshi, is a busy man.

His soccer career had taken off, and it feels like he’s away more than he’s at home at this point. Getting the chance to catch up with him is always nice— after you had gotten each other up to speed on things you had missed, Sae was someone you could sit with in total silence and it would be comfortable, you’ve known him long enough to reach this point. Tonight however, wasn’t one of those nights. Your dating life has always been… interesting, to say the least. You're currently regaling Sae with the story of your latest misadventure as he sits on the couch opposite the one you nested on now, answering some emails on his phone. Sae always seemed to find humour in your dismal taste in men, and sometimes, when you just needed to bitch, he was the best person to do that with. Because Sae Itoshi has the remarkable talent of being able to dislike anybody.

“He forgot my birthday. Nearly a year together, and he forgot it, can you believe that?” You exclaim, throwing your hands up dramatically.

“He wasn’t exactly the brightest guy I’ve met. And I’ve met a lot of idiots.” Sae muses plainly, scrolling his thumb along on his screen. He wasn’t always the most engaged listener, but you know him well enough to know he was still actually tuned in to what you're saying. This scene has played out plenty of times before; Sae replying to business emails and such while you talked. It’s never bothered you, he’s been like this as long as you’ve known him, and he’d never once actually stopped you from talking or complained about it. Well, not seriously anyway.

“Is it me? Am I the problem here?” You ask, brows knitting together as you think about the newest failed relationship to add to the list.

“I mean…” Sae trails off, you can hear the sound of him typing on his phone’s keyboard.

“That’s where you’re supposed to say ‘no way, it’s not you, he’s an asshole’, Sae.” You huff, your eyes looking over at the TV at the show you had put on, mostly for background noise.

“He is an asshole, but you picked him, sweetheart.” Sae’s words drip with  sarcasm as he continues typing. The term of endearment is anything but, it's said flatly, mockingly. “Have you considered making better choices?”

“That’s it? That’s your sage wisdom? Really?” You retort, shooting him a bemused expression that he briefly regarded with a quick glance of his own.

“Really, truly.” He states matter-of-factly, russet brows creasing ever so slightly for just a moment as he deletes something on his screen.

"Why am I even friends with you?" You hiss, peering over at the redhead on the couch. His teal eyes look up from his phone to look at you properly now, familiar neutral expression on his face as his temple comes to rest against his fist. 

"My award winning personality." He says dryly, eyes once again dropping to his screen.

"I must have missed the memo on that one." You grumble, rolling your eyes as you flop back into the chair with a huff. You cross your arms over your chest, a pout forming on your lips as you sullenly turn your attention back to the TV. “What are you, 5 years old?” Sae quirks a brow at you, a hint of amusement on his face at your behaviour. “Fuck you, Itoshi.” You grumble, pout still fixed on your face. “How incredibly mature.” He's the one giving a slight eye roll this time. He places his phone down on the coffee table before getting to his feet, making his way across the room and standing in front of you. “Are you done?”

You look up at him from where you’re sitting, puzzled at his sudden proximity. You try to read his face, something you should know better than to attempt really, because Sae Itoshi isn’t exactly an easy study. He looks down at you past those long eyelashes of his, his usual blank slate that borders between boredom and indifference is all you can see.

“What are you doing?” You probe, unable to work out the motive for this intrusion of your space.

"Testing a theory I have." Sae states as he stoops down lower to you.

"What's that supposed to mea-”

"Oh my god, shut up for a second." Sae interjects, those gem-like eyes giving you a pointed stare. You're about to quip back at him, like you usually would, but something very unusual happens.

Sae closes the space between you both, pressing his plump lips to yours, one of his hands cupping the side of your jaw; the other resting on your thigh. 

Your mind races to catch up with what’s going on, to try and wrap your head around the fact your friend's lips, soft and warm, are pressed to yours now. You've known Sae for a few years, and you have never gotten the vibe that he was in any way interested in you. If this was some weird prank he was pulling, some attempt to tease you, it wasn't funny.

You're about to pull away, ready to ask him what the hell he was thinking, when the hand on your jaw moves to hold the back of your neck, tugging you in closer to him— and you fold instantly, chasing after anything more he might give you without even thinking about it.

The second Sae feels you give, he takes, his tongue coming out to tease over your bottom lip. He leans the two of you back into the chair, pressing you into the plush cushion as his knee slots between your thighs to steady himself. 

You give a quiet gasp against his lips, and Sae uses this to slip his tongue into your mouth. It’s slow, almost methodical, his tongue tangling with yours as his hand flexs slightly, tightening his grip on your neck just a touch. There's a faint taste of mint. 

Every movement from him feels somewhat measured, timed to perfection to keep your head spinning. Just as you catch up with one sensation, something else would change to send you reeling even further; His other hand pressing into the muscle of your thigh as it slides higher, his chest pressing into your own. Small, almost imperceptible choices from him that leave you handing control to him on a silver platter. While the situation feels absurd, the kiss has a familiarity; this level of control and calculation is just so typically Sae.

As he breaks the kiss and leans back slightly, you can't help the quiet whimper that falls from your lips, it's almost a reflexive response to feeling bereft at the loss of contact. Your cheeks feel red hot as you inspect his face once more, still just as confused as you had been before. 

Sae’s as composed as ever, no change to his usual collected demeanour is obvious to you. You furrow your brows, ready to challenge him about why he even kissed you in the first place, about what this was all about, but your mind blanks as you feel his hand slip between your thighs, his fingertips barely grazing against your core above the fabric of your shorts. 

"Sae…" You stutter out quietly, before biting down on your lower lip, watching his face intently. Honestly, you were never unaware of how handsome Sae is. His boyish good looks that you had grown up with have gained a certain maturity over the years, the features of his once soft face have grown more defined and sharper in places; along his jaw, by his cheek bones.

Turquoise eyes flicker up to look at you, away from his own hand. You notice a slight twitch at the corner of his lips at the sound of you calling his name, the faintest hint of a smirk, barely there, but you saw it nonetheless.

His touch grows a little more intentional as he leans back in, resting his forehead against yours. Your eyes lock for a moment, and suddenly, any urge to question his intentions; fades. It's only now you realise something else. There's a barely there flush to his cheeks, only evident to you thanks to the proximity.

The weight in his gaze feels like enough of an answer, as much of a straight answer as you would be likely to receive from him anyhow; Sae was never much of a talker, even less so after he returned from Spain.

This isn't even a totally unfamiliar look in his eyes, either. You've seen it from time to time before, the first time you'd make eye contact in airport arrivals halls, or when he would open the door to his home to greet you after weeks away. How many times had you overlooked it? Chosen not to look too much into it because this was Sae, afterall. And what you and Sae have has always felt a touch delicate, given his nature.

He hums, and you snap back from your mental spiral. You can feel his breath on your lips.

“Thought so…” He mumbles, seemingly more to himself than to you. He edges closer still, until his lips are but millimetres from yours.

“What?” You murmur. You want to close the gap. You want him to close the gap. “You're definitely not the problem.”

[kxsagi]

Hiiiiii I have a request!!

okokok. College AU where Kaiser is the president of a frat, so of course he hosts lots of parties where people drink and dance and have fun…

anyways, Kaiser is in an kind of friends with benefits situation with the reader, so they’re not really dating but he’s like her best friend (who happens to also kiss her on the cheek and put his arm around her waist hehe)…

so at one of said parties, some freshmen try to flirt with reader…and Kaiser is not happy.

sorry this is long!! love you!

“𝐨𝐟𝐟 𝐥𝐢𝐦𝐢𝐭𝐬”

a/n: omg i LOVE this request and love you too! thank you for making it so detailed as well lol, it really helps

and thank you so much for being so patient with me, this request has been in my inbox for a while 🥲 (i promise i am getting to other requests soon and in the order that they were requested in!)

(art credits go to GZGZ_ggg on X)

you weren’t even trying to attract attention tonight. 

you’d stuck to your usual: simple jeans, a cute top, your hair done just enough to look like you put in effort without really putting in effort. the only reason you were at this frat party in the first place was because kaiser had insisted. 

“mandatory attendance,” he’d said, throwing his arm around your shoulders. “you’re basically my first lady. what kind of frat president would i be without my hottest friend here?” 

friend. right. that’s all you are. friends with benefits. with stupid little perks like him kissing your cheek when he’s tipsy and tucking you into his bed when you fall asleep after screaming his name the whole night. definitely just friends. 

you’re leaning against the hallway wall outside the kitchen, sipping your drink and trying to make yourself look busy when a group of freshmen walk past and double back immediately. 

they look like they just walked out of an H&M sale and bathed in cheap cologne. one of them – tall, cocky, thinks he’s charming – leans a hand on the wall near your head. 

“haven’t seen you around before,” he says. “you new?” 

you glance at him with the flattest expression you can muster. “junior.” 

“no way,” the second one laughs, looking you up and down. “you don’t look like a junior.” 

you deadpan. “thanks, i guess.” 

“we’re new here,” the first guy says, flashing a smile that’s definitely gotten him out of a few parking tickets. “trying to meet people. what’s your name?” 

you open your mouth to give a polite-but-firm brush off, until a familiar arm snakes around your waist. 

kaiser’s grip is strong. tighter than usual. 

“she’s not interested,” he says coolly, his chin brushing your temple as he leans in close. “move along.” 

the first freshman laughs, not backing off even a little. “bro, relax. we’re just talking.” 

“yeah,” the second one chimes in, smirking. “didn’t realize we needed clearance to have a conversation.” 

you roll your eyes and try to step out of kaiser’s hold, not because you’re on the freshmen’s side, but because this – his whole clingy, overbearing energy – is starting to wear thin. 

“michael,” you mutter under your breath, nudging him with your elbow, “it’s not a big deal. seriously.” 

he doesn’t move. doesn’t even flinch. just looks the guys dead in the eye and goes, “it becomes a big deal when people don’t take a fucking hint.” 

and that’s when freshman number one decides to press his luck. 

“okay, but... you’re not even dating her, right?” he gestures between you two with a smug little tilt of his head. “so technically, she’s single.” 

the silence that follows is dangerous. 

kaiser’s arm drops from your waist, and for a second you think he’s actually going to let it go. but then he steps forward, chest to chest with the guy, and suddenly the air gets colder. 

“what did you just say?” kaiser says, voice low and sharp. 

you grab his arm. “michael. don’t.” 

the freshman shrugs, trying to look casual but clearly rattled by the shift in energy. “i’m just saying. if you’re not her boyfriend, then –” 

“then you should shut your fucking mouth,” kaiser snaps. 

his whole posture shifts. he’s no longer the smug, charming frat president who knows he looks good in every photo. now he’s just furious, protective in a way that has nothing to do with titles and everything to do with you. 

“you think you’re smart?” he continues, stepping in closer. “trying to loop-hole your way into hitting on her? you think that makes you clever?” 

the freshman stammers, looking to his friend for backup, but the guy’s already backing away. 

kaiser doesn’t let it go. “you think just because i haven’t put a label on her, you get a shot? you think you get to decide what she is or isn’t to me?” 

“michael,” you say again, more firmly now. “stop.” 

his chest is rising and falling a little faster. his jaw is clenched so tight it could crack. finally, he steps back, running a hand through his hair like he’s trying to calm himself down. 

the freshmen scatter without another word. 

you sigh, glaring at him. “what the hell was that?” 

he meets your eyes, still tense. “i told you. i don’t like people thinking they can touch you.” 

“you don’t own me,” you snap, the words sharper than you meant them to be. “we’re not even together.” 

kaiser blinks at you like the idea is foreign. like he genuinely forgot that you're not officially his. “yeah. and?” 

you stare at him. “and you don’t get to act like this. you don’t get to flip out just because someone hit on me. if you want that kind of say in my life, then you need to –” 

“then maybe we should be together,” he says. 

your breath catches in your throat. “what?” 

he shrugs like it’s not a big deal, but his voice is hoarse and low. “i don’t want to do this halfway anymore.” 

you open your mouth. close it. your heart is thudding too fast for you to come up with anything clever. 

“you don’t have to say anything now,” kaiser murmurs, stepping closer again, more gentle this time, like the storm has passed. “but if some idiot ever says you’re ‘technically single’ again, i want it to be a lie.” 

and just like that, you forget how to breathe. 

© 𝐤𝐱𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐢

[ebodebo]

SUPERSTAR!

ˋ°•*⁀➷ PAIR: dick grayson x fem!popstar reader

ˋ°•*⁀➷ WC: 1.9k+

ˋ°•*⁀➷ CONTAINS: fem!reader, angst, some fluff, dick being hurt, jealous dick, mentions of blood & cuts, & purposeful omission of tags to avoid spoilers.

ˋ°•*⁀➷ AUTHOR'S NOTE: hey... tbh this was the fastest thing i've written in a while, so, go me lmao also, if enough people want, i would totally be down to do a part two. also, also, shoutout to @delusionsofgrandeur13 for chatting with me about this concept and screaming with me hehe hopefully you all enjoy this!

Dick won't give up his crime fighting ways...

The gray clouds hung heavily over Gotham, dark and ominous, as rain poured down and thunder rumbled across the city, leaving behind a haze of humid dew.

In the blink of an eye, the previous sunny day had turned cold and rainy.

You are perched on your couch in your apartment, a soft blanket wrapped around you, providing warmth against the chill outside.

From your sofa, you glance out the window at the people scurrying beneath awnings and huddling in doorways, their jackets pulled tightly against the sudden cold. 

The streets, usually alive with the sounds of conversations and city life, felt muted, the typical hustle and bustle subdued by the relentless downpour.

Somewhere in the distance, a siren wailed, its piercing sound cutting through the comforting ambiance—a grim reminder that trouble often lurked in the shadows of the city, even on the coziest of days.

You find yourself sinking into the couch, fully immersed in the movie you had popped on. Your eyes threaten to shut close as your head lulls back and forth softly.

Pulling the blanket tighter against you, you inhale a deep breath, leaning against the back of the couch, already lightly snoring before you hear it.

Just as you start to relax, a sudden thud from your fire escape outside jolts you back to full alertness. Your head whips around, your lips pressed together in a tense line as you strain to catch any further sounds.

When none come, you force yourself to settle back on the sofa, trying to push the unsettling noise out of your mind. 

You close your eyes yet again, drifting off as soon as you lay your head back down. Your soft snores fill the room until you hear another noise, making you spring awake, your heart pounding in your chest.

You stand, agitated, ready for whatever comes next.  

Tap.

Tap.

Tap.

The series of taps continues, with only a few seconds separating each one. You walk over to the window, reaching for a knife that you've left on the counter for slicing fruit.

Gripping it tightly, you round the corner of the island and stretch your neck to look outside, only to find your boyfriend lying on the cold, wet metal of the fire escape.

In a rush, you toss the knife into the sink; speed walk to the window, unlock it, and pull it open quickly. "Dick?" you call out, your eyes scanning the fresh cuts on his face, which are smeared with blood.

He lifts his head slightly, a lopsided grin appearing on his face. "Hey, baby," he replies hoarsely before dropping his head back down.

"Shit," you say roughly, quickly gripping him tightly and helping him through the window into the warmth of your apartment. You manage to get him inside and gently set him down on the vinyl floor.

"Did I wake you?" he rasps, wincing as he sits up.

"You always do," you reply, watching him reach for the first aid kit under the sink. "What the hell happened?" Your voice carries a hint of irritation.

"Ah, you know," he prompts, as if the answer were obvious. "Work."

You roll your eyes and let out a deep sigh as you carry the kit over to where he sits hunched over. "What happened this time? A knife fight? A toxin blast?" you ask, sounding tired as you soak some gauze in saline solution.

He gives a dry laugh. "It's nothing you need to worry about."

"Mhm," you respond, swiping the gauze across his cheek and making him wince slightly.

His eyebrows furrow in thought. "I know you're upset," he shrugs.

You nod in agreement while continuing to tend to his cut.

"Bruce needed me. Jason was being a hard-ass, and Tim was in Queens," he continued, his wide eyes focused on you as you tended to him. "I was the only one left." 

"Okay," you nodded, applying a band-aid to his clean skin.

He let out a shallow breath, sagging his shoulders. "Gotham… she needed me."

"I need you," you said, your voice louder than intended as you tossed the used gauze on the ground, locking your eyes with Dick's surprised gaze. "And I don't mean Nightwing. I mean Dick Grayson—the real you. The only you I want." You tilted your head back, shaking it slightly.

His mouth hangs open. "I'm here now, sweetheart."

You shake your head, holding back a sniffle. "No. I want you to be here always, at least in the ways you can control. I want you to stay alive, Dick," you say, your love for him evident in every word.

"Baby, I'm okay. You fixed me," his voice begins to fill with desperation.

You huff, biting your tongue. "Gotham always takes you from me and spits you back up at my doorstep, bloodied and bruised," you start, glancing at his cheek. "What if next time you bleed out? What if you get too comfortable and slip up?" you continue, reaching to slide his suit off his shoulders to tend to his side. "What if you don't make it home next time?" Tears well in your eyes as you carefully sanitize the wound.

He doesn't even flinch at the sting, unable to comprehend what he's hearing. "I love you."

"You love Gotham more," you murmur, your voice tinged with a hint of hope as you patch up his wound. "I gave you an ultimatum, me or Gotham," you remind him, tears rolling down your cheeks. "And you chose, so I shouldn't be sad. But I had hoped…" Your eyes, brimming with tears, meet his, and his heart feels the weight of your unspoken words. "You would choose me."

His stomach drops at the sight of you, but he can't help feeling a surge of irritation. "Is this about someone else?" he almost spits, confused by this sudden wave of emotion.

Your eyes widen in surprise as you pull away from him. "What are you talking about?"

He licks his lips, his expression flat as he hesitates for a moment. Then he sniffs and reaches for his phone, wincing as he swipes it open. Turning the phone toward you, he shows you a tabloid from Gotham Times with an image of you at one of Gotham's high-end restaurants accompanied by an article that reads:

"Gotham's Elite in the Spotlight: Sources report that the acclaimed pop singer, a prominent figure in Gotham's social scene, has ended her relationship with Gotham's own Dick Grayson.

This news comes after she was spotted enjoying brunch at the upscale Tavern on the Green with up-and-coming actor Luke Fox, the son of Lucius Fox, a close friend of billionaire philanthropist Bruce Wayne and CEO of Wayne Enterprises." 

You had grown accustomed to the constant scrutiny and speculation surrounding you, with keen eyes evaluating your every move, criticizing and amplifying every action.

What caught you off guard was Dick actually taking the tabloids seriously, let alone believing in their hypocrisies.

"Do you really think I would cheat on you?" you asked, looking up at him, your voice cracking with disbelief and hurt.

His narrowed eyes softened as he realized how ridiculous and unfair he was being. "I don't… I don't know why I said that," he admitted, turning his phone to look at its screen. "I…" he started, glancing back at your now tense expression.

"I was never with him, Dick. We had just met for brunch, which his publicist arranged, and the article failed to mention the other three people at the table. His agent thought it would be good for him to expand his horizons. Not that it matters, but we only talked about superficial shit," you sighed, clearly frustrated.

"Superficial shit?" he echoed your words.

"Yes!" you affirmed roughly, your anger simmering beneath the surface. "I thought you didn't give a shit about these tabloids!"

"I don't!" he insists, trying to convince you. "I just…" he trails off, shaking his head as he searches for the right words. "Sometimes they get to me," he admits, looking at you with pure honesty in his eyes. "I hate it, but… it's true." He takes a sharp breath.

You can't help but find his honesty refreshing. "I understand, Dick, but this is my life," you mumble. "There will always be some ridiculous article trying to portray me as some sleaze," you continue, shaking your head. "That's just how it is."

He nods in agreement, his disappointment evident. "Yeah, I guess it is," he says, the tension in the air thick.

You sink onto the cool floor, finding it grounding. Your mind briefly wanders as you stare at it, lost in thought.

"Can we just have one more night?" Dick mumbles, his bright blue eyes now a soft gray.

You look up at him. "Dick…"

"Just… please?" he pleads, his voice sincere. "One more night of normal? Then, I promise I'll let you do your pop-star thing and tour the world," he adds a hint of humor in his tone that makes you laugh.

"I'm not even on a world tour," you correct him, wiping a stray tear from your cheek as you chuckle.

"You will be," he assures you with his signature smile. "And I'll be cheering you on."

You sniffle, biting your lip. "You're a good guy, Dick."

"Would that opinion change if I kissed you?" he teases with a lopsided grin. 

You let out a laugh before leaning in closer, pressing a kiss to his lips; the warmth of his touch spreads down your spine, sending shivers down your skin. 

You pull away only slightly. "We should get some sleep."

"Not yet," he peers into your eyes, lips brushing against yours. "Let me soak you in."

The next morning, Dick wakes up before dawn breaks. He looks down and sees his arms wrapped around your waist as you snuggle into his chest. He smiles, but beneath that smile, a pang of disappointment lingers.

The night has long since ended, as has the normalcy he had come to rely on.

Thinking it would be easier for you, he decides to leave before you wake up. He gently eases his arms from around your waist and slips out of bed.

He tiptoes across the floor, careful not to wake you, and places a soft kiss on your forehead before putting on a spare white shirt he keeps in his drawer. He leaves the extra shirts behind for you.

He also leaves behind several of his sweatshirts and hoodies in your closet, just in case you get cold.

Stepping out quietly, he walks home through the cold Gotham air, the slight dew hanging heavy over the city, leaving him with a bittersweet feeling in his heart.

When he arrives at the Batcave, he finds Tim and Jason huddled around the Batcomputer. They both turn their heads to look at him as they hear his footsteps approaching.

Tim shakes his head, gesturing toward the computer. "Well, if it isn't Gotham's own charming socialite in the flesh, the Dick Grayson," he teases, nudging Jason, who laughs in response.

Dick lets out an irritated sigh and moves closer to see what's on the screen. There, a news article is blown up, and its headline reads:

"Gotham's hero, Nightwing, was seen sneaking into the pop star's apartment just days after her split with charming socialite and Wayne Enterprises executive Dick Grayson, amidst rumors of a blossoming relationship with actor Luke Fox, son of wealthy Wayne Enterprises CEO Lucius Fox."

Dick snapped his attention to the amused Tim and a serious Jason. "Don't worry about that," Dick muttered. "It won't be an issue anymore."

MINI AUTHOR'S NOTE: how are we feeling? feigning for more?

[moon-ttokki-x]

Heya there 🤠 Hope you're doing well! If it's good with you, can I please request something ispired by this - https://www.tumblr.com/moon-ttokki-x/777609369726681088/ ?

I think all of the guys would always take their 9th member as plus one on those events so... how do you think it would be like to go to events like that with each member?

I hope this isn’t too confusing 😭 I'm not good at writing 😕

i already did chan's ver. so here's the rest of the members hehe . . .

₊✩ ot8!skz x plus one! 9th member reader ✩‧₊

pairing: ot8!skz x 9th member!reader

summary: skz find out you're coming with them as plus one to an event.

genre: idol!au, 9th member!au, hints of mutual pining, mentions of eating and drinking, kind of groupmates to lovers thing ig, nervous minho awww, jeongin tries to be cool, changbin's is the sweetest ever. literally just fluffy, like tooth-rot worthy fluff. literally no other warnings i'm pretty sure . . .

a/n: i feel like it's been ages since i wrote smth tbh :/ div by @dollywons

skz masterlist | chan's ver.

Minho who is an absolute gentleman. is rather quiet on the ride there but that's only bc he's a little nervous himself (and also bc he's sitting next to you; do you even know how good you look??). has to stop himself from constantly reaching to hold your hand when you both step out of the car, but he can't resist offering you his arm. he's not one for much physical affection, but there's a small part of him that wants you close. shields you from the cameras if the flashing is making you uncomfortable, and introduces you smoothly to people once you're inside the event. literally stays by your side the whole night, glancing sideways every few minutes to make sure you're okay.

Changbin who is the literal king of comforting you. he knows you're a little apprehensive about attending the event, but he distracts you and makes silly jokes to ease the tension floating around your head. if you're worrying how you look, he'll literally drop to his knees and flatter you. he can't believe you're not sure whether you look good or not; rest assured, he'll be reminding you for the rest of the night. locks his pinky with yours as you both wander throughout the crowds to reassure you. he couldn't be prouder of his little maknae attending their first major event, and makes sure to congratulate you and then treat you to something delicious afterwards.

Hyunjin who insists on wearing matching colours and outfits; throws a playful tantrum when you refuse to let him pick the colour. you both spend almost two hours bickering over what to wear, but he gives in and lets you choose anyway. is almost knocked over by the blinding lights of camera flashes once you two arrive at the event, and he waves people off before turning to check on you. leads you through the crowds with a gentle hand on your lower back, and makes sweet, subtle comments to you throughout the night (in front of and away from people; he couldn't care less if anyone else hears him). you're the most stylish duo at the event that night.

Han who whines about having to go to the event before he finds out you're supposed to go with him. literally shoots out of his chair and insists on getting ready (even though the actual thing isn't supposed to start for at least a few hours). promises to help you with interactions and nods encouragingly when you move to approach people at the event. stands by your side, nodding and gently prompting you to talk, shooting you a cheeky wink when you give him a subtle nod in thanks. normally tries to escape these events early, but stalls for as long as possible (partly because he's actually enjoying himself, and partly because he wants to keep admiring you).

Felix who refuses to leave your side and insists on having some part of his body touch yours as you both watch the event start. whether it's his shoulder brushing yours as he shifts a little, or his hand 'accidentally' skating over your thigh, the comfort is far more enjoyable than this event could ever be. isn't actually as invested in the goings-on of the show like he usually is; all he can think about is you. for once, he's too shy to talk to the other people at the event; he makes a mental note to thank the company once he gets back. he quietly begins planning a way to bring you to these outings more often.

Seungmin who initially rolls his eyes and brushes past you when he finds out you both have to go together; softens up when he sees you all dressed up and even offers you his hand when you get out of the car. is bored, as per usual, but he puts on his most convincing facade and steels himself throughout the night. lightens up a little when you lean across to whisper a snide comment to him, and he throws one right back, trying to fight the slight colour rising on his cheeks. thinks about the proximity to you for the rest of the event, and can't seem to get rid of the strange, warm feeling in his stomach. oh well. must have been something he ate.

Jeongin who immediately puts in 200% effort into trying to impress you. dresses up well and makes himself look amazing, makes sure he smells good, and even practices a few english sentences in the mirror to avoid stuttering like he usually does. in a bid to show off a little, he talks to people he normally wouldn't have and is sick of the english language by the end of the night (though he doesn't complain bc that's not cool). succeeds in his attempts to impress you, and doesn't realise how much he talked until he's called into the office the next day. is confused when he's told that he somehow managed to network with every single person at the event.

a/n: skz just one chance pls take me with you

ttokki's taglist: @emilywhyyy @galaxy4489 @hyuneskkami @justsomekpopstuff @wavetohannie @strayingawayy @its-stayville-forever @batty-barty-crouchjr @wickedbutlovely @headfirstfortoro @lov3yv4mps @possum-playground @bear8585 @astraystayyh @m-325 @gnabnahcbby @mbioooo0000 @akindaflora @tsunderelino @hhwangsmoon @crazyforthatbangchandude @bluebellsringinghereandthere @ladylexis @tillaboo @geni-627

send a dm, comment under the taglist post, or send an ask to be added !