#MY MIND HAS BEEN WHIRRING IT IS GREAT

[spottedenchants]

**CR C3 Spoilers** So I was just reading “Just a Little Bit Longer, Love” in your TS series and in Chapter 3, when Essek’s teasing Caleb with all the names of his many aliases/disguises, you included: “Maybe Journey, or Seth?” Did you… did you somehow PREDICT his Cobalt Soul disguise???! 👀

okay short answer: no, not really xD

Seth (the name) is 100% from C3 ep94, and TS!Essek has had a Cobalt Soul persona in the bg of the the series for (irl) years. 'Prediction' feels like it requires some narrative foresight- I just wanted to make Essek do some community service xD

long answer with its own tl;dr:

One thing I like about fanfic is that it's a very fluid medium. One thing I like about writing TS as a non-chronological series is that fluidity is inherent to the 'overarching' story I am telling- it's like revisiting and revising memories. I'd like to think of TS as being canon-adjacent or canon-compatible, and I do on occasion edit minor details when something comes up in CR canon that I would like to include in the series. For example, the Nein Heroez is destroyed in Mighty Nein Reunited, so I went back through the series and renamed the ship to the Nein Heroez II because I thought the original getting destroyed was interesting while also still being very fond of its name.

'Seth' is not a name I came up with as an alias for Essek- that 100% came from C3 ep94. In fact, the original name I had there in Just a Little Bit Longer, Love was 'Tristan', an alias I have never used in TS save for that singular instance and thus far have not even drafted/planned anything for beyond a rough concept you can find on this post here.

THAT SAID (<- getting excited)

For the longest time, I have had TS!Essek doing Cobalt Soul work alongside Beauregard and Caleb in the background of the series (in the bg because idk how to write the work he is doing in an interesting way yet) and I am absolutely thrilled that Essek might be pursuing a similar path by 843 PD in CR canon AND that other people seem enthused about the idea too!

'Seth' as a concept (divorced from Cobalt Soul things) has helped me work through some open-ended tangles I've been picking at in my WIP pile for ages, such as Arc 2 TS!Essek being displeased when maintaining his persona of Phillip Sommer for prolonged periods of time. Phillip Sommer was drafted to be TS!Essek's main face in the Empire and thus his Cobalt Soul persona. However, all of TS!Essek's personas are gifted by his friends, kindly, yes, but gifted just the same, and that means none of them are Him- they don't look like him, their names don't sound like his, they are Different People. So 'Seth' slots in very nicely and I am Very excited to carve into TS!Essek's sense of self as it relates to 'Seth'.

TL;DR: While I do edit minor details like Tristan -> Seth, I am and have been a staunch supporter of Essek working with the Cobalt Soul for A While and I am so very excited to see others warm up to the concept so readily :D

[ddarker-dreams]

Understatement.

Wanderer x Reader.

Warnings: None. Word count: 1.2k.

Your bag carries plenty of essentials. 

Stationery, lip balm, keys to your apartment; stuff of that nature. Then there’s your personal favorite, a wallet embroidered with dandelions — your hometown’s flower — into the fabric. It’d been sent to you without a return address on your birthday, shrouding the gifter in mystery. All of these items accompany you on a day-to-day basis. 

That aside, this list has another unifying factor. Each object is inert. Completely still. Incapable of moving without an outside force. Now, this isn’t a revelation that’ll shift society and be recorded in history books for generations to come. It’s common sense. A concept children grasp before they even know what ‘gravity’ is. 

As for why you’re taking a lengthy mental inventory of your belongings… 

Well. 

Something in there is moving. Rustling about, the vague outline of its body pressing against the aged leather. 

Your response is slow. Cautious. You begin by pushing yourself away from your desk, creating distance between you and this potential threat. The Vision fastened along your waistband thrums, ready to act. Numerous theories whir around your mind like a sandstorm. Is this a prank in poor taste? Cyno had mentioned an investigation into scarabs being placed in student’s bags, although nothing serious had come from it. Maybe it’s a gadget or some elemental reaction— 

—Your cognition grinds to a halt when a head pokes out, undoing the bag’s clasp in the process. 

…

…

…

“Oh!” The creature exclaims while freeing itself. “Um… hi!” 

The room’s natural lighting gives you a better idea of the creature’s appearance. Its wings keep it suspended midair, each enthusiastic flap scattering your notes. Large, doe-like eyes consider you, gleaming with childlike curiosity. If not for the prominent horns atop its head, you might think it’s a bat, but that classification doesn’t quite fit. 

Whatever it is, you sense no hostility. 

“Hello,” is your hesitant reply. 

It looks around, fixating on the items displaced from your desk. 

“Ack, I’m sorry,” it apologizes. It lands carefully on your desk and lowers its head, as if ashamed. “I didn’t mean to make such a mess… I’ve just been excited to meet you.” 

“Don’t worry, this is nothing. I’ve been meaning to reorganize my stuff, anyway.” 

For some reason, you can’t find it within you to fault this seemingly well-meaning yet clumsy guest. Its naivete is reminiscent of a certain explosion-obsessed girl from back home. In truth, this entire ordeal doesn’t even breach the top five strangest experiences you’ve had in recent times. 

… Alright, perhaps it’s a contender for the fourth slot. 

Suddenly, your guest straightens up. “Wait! I haven’t introduced myself yet. We can’t be friends if I haven’t introduced myself… you can call me Mini Durin. And I already know your name. You’re [First].” 

“Yeah, that’d be me,” you cover a budding smile with your hand, not wanting your giddy guest to mistake it for mockery. “So, Mini Durin… you said you’ve been wanting to meet me? Why’s that?”

Mini Durin ambles his way toward the edge of your desk. 

“You’re important to my first friend,” he declares. “At least I think so. He only has the nicest things to say about you, like how you’re not ‘as insufferable as most,’ and that ‘your presence is tolerable.’” 

That’s what Mini Durin considers ‘the nicest things’ to say about someone…?! 

The conviction with which he speaks affirms his sincerity. 

“It sounds like you trust this friend a great deal.” 

Mini Durin nods. “I do. That’s how I ended up in your bag… I got separated from him earlier. Luckily, I spotted you. I knew you’d keep me safe. And now we even get to be friends!” 

That explains why your bag felt heavier coming home than when you left. 

“You got separated from him?” Frowning, you scoot your chair closer. “Where at? We can go looking for him, if you want. He must be worried.” 

“Oh. I didn’t think about that.” 

Mini Durin mulls over your offer for a few seconds, adding, “What if he’s mad at me? He was working hard on another gift for you, but I went and distracted him.” 

“Friends can sort stuff like this out,” you reassure. Then, a pause. “Huh. Did you say ‘another gift?’” 

Mini Durin tilts his head. “You didn’t know? The pretty flowers on your—” 

A rapid knock on your door cuts him off. 

You both turn your attention toward the booming sound. Huffing, you cross your arms over your chest. It’s late in the evening, who in their right mind would treat your front door like a drum? You shoot your unexpected guest an apologetic look, promising a swift return.

Some choice words sizzle on your tongue as you swing the door open, only to be met by an equally irate figure. 

Your eccentric classmate, the Wanderer, stands before you. There’s a slight flush to his cheeks like he’s been physically exerting himself. The telltale sign of Anemo settles down around him, his hat reappearing in the process. He soon mirrors your exasperated posture, one hand on his hip, the other readjusting the brim of his hat. 

“I could’ve flown to Inazuma and back in the time it took you to answer,” is the courteous greeting he goes for. 

“Hello to you too,” you greet. “Was there something you needed? Or are you just making your debut as a percussionist known to the entire nation?”

He rolls his eyes. “Of course there’s something I ‘need’, genius.” 

“And what would that be?” 

“I’m looking for a small, talking dragon,” the Wanderer deadpans. “Ring any bells?” 

You blink. “Are you referring to Mini Durin?” 

“Just how many dragons are you acquainted with?” 

“I mean, I am from Mondstadt,” you shrug. A realization then creeps up on you. “Hold on. Does that make you this ‘first friend’ I’ve heard so much about?” 

The Wanderer freezes. You observe as he processes this information in real-time, along with the implications that come with it. Though his muscles are tense, he keeps his visage impassive. The occasional twitch of his eye is the only detail betraying his panic. 

“... On second thought, you can keep him.” 

He swivels on his heel to make a hasty retreat. 

You lurch forward without thinking, your hand latching around his wrist. He snaps his head around to meet your gaze, almost knocking you over with his hat in the process. A well-timed dodge protects you from the potential headache. In the light of the setting sun, the Wanderer’s porcelain complexion is dyed in crimson hues. Though he’s maintaining eye contact, something tells you it’s a struggle. 

“Hey,” you use your free hand to poke his flushed cheeks, to which he grimaces and bats at it like a cat. “Come inside. I’ll make up some of that awful, bitter tasting tea you like.” 

He inhales through his teeth, likely weighing various excuses. You bat your eyelashes and offer your brightest smile. As the seconds pass by, you can feel his resolve weakening. With a scoff, he frees himself from your grasp, the ease in which he does so confirming he’d been your willing hostage. 

The Wanderer wordlessly strolls past you and into your home. 

Humming, you follow close behind him. 

Just ‘tolerable’, huh? 

[bahablastplz]

Always there: Hyunjin x Reader x Changbin

Your friend makes you feel bad after a night out at the club, but luckily, you’ve always had Hyunjin and Changbin to comfort you. Or maybe more than that, if that’s what you want. Is that what you want? Content: Smut, Hurt/Comfort Warnings: Virgin reader, use of the word 'prude', reader is shamed for being a virgin (not by SKZ), kissing, fingering, oral f! receiving, p in v sex, no mention of using protection WC: 4800

Saturday mornings are great. After a long and tiring work week, you want nothing more than a day to sleep in and relax, finally letting the stress melt away from your body and mind. When you roll out of bed with a yawn you wobble into the kitchen, ready to make yourself a cup of coffee. 

Maybe you would read a book today? Or you could always catch up on that k-drama you’ve been wanting to watch–

“Good morning, sleepyhead.” 

Strange. That almost sounded like the voice of Hwang Hyunjin, which is impossible, seeing as you just woke up and you live alone. Right? 

Wrong. 

“Hyunjin, what the fuck are you doing in my house?” You groan as the coffee maker whirs to life, turning around to shoot your best friend a glare. He holds his hands up in mock defense, but your glare is no longer directed at him. It’s at the whistling coming from the bathroom, your bathroom, as Changbin strides out and dries his hands on his pants. 

“I’m seriously regretting giving you both a spare set of keys,” you mumble. Your whining goes unheard over Changbin’s shouting. 

“Ooh, coffee! Can I have some?” 

You have never known true peace. Not since Hyunjin and Changbin came into your life. Though as much as you fake groan and moan, you love them both deeply and unconditionally. Your friends don’t really have a concept of personal space, which is very obvious this morning in particular, but you all know that if you were truly bothered and wanted them to leave, they would. You don’t ask them to. You are slightly more aware of your unruly appearance, bedhead and long t-shirt that covers your legs and lack of pants, so you walk back into your room and throw on a pair of sweats.

Once your coffee is retrieved, you lay lazily on the couch and turn on the TV. Your legs are stretched out across Hyunjin and your back is leaning against Changbin. 

“You guys are so annoying,” you grumble. You sip idly out of your mug and let out a sigh, melting in between the two men. 

“You’re awfully snappy today,” Hyunjin says with a laugh. “Besides, you know you love us.” 

“I’m snappy because you buffoons decided to invade my home on my day off,” you say with petulance. You all know you don’t really mean your words though, so after a loud and dramatic sigh the topic is all but forgotten. 

Until your friend calls. 

“Shit,” you curse under your breath. 

“Why is Cheryl calling you?” Hyunjin asks, leaning over to peak at your phone. 

“Ugh, we had plans tonight. I completely forgot,” you say, swiping to answer her call. 

“Hey girl! We still on for tonight? I really want to go to the club, and Brad said he was going to be there!” 

You stifle back a groan before replying: “I don’t know…” You were being honest. Partying has never really been your forte, as much as your friend has tried to push you outside of your comfort zone… it has been a long week and you wanted nothing more than to laze around with Hyunjin and Changbin. 

“C’mon! You never go out with me. This is why you still haven’t lost your virginity yet.” You stiffen at her words, letting out a soft chuckle and avoiding looking over at your friends, the ones that you know heard her judgmental words. 

“Um.. yeah, sure! I’ll be there,” you finally stammer. Fuck. You really didn’t want to go but you did want to end this phone call. So that’s what you did. Finally bringing yourself to look at your friends, you give them an awkward smile. 

“So… I’m going out with Cheryl tonight.” 

“We gathered,” Hyunjin laughs. This time you don’t suppress the groan that tumbles out of your mouth. 

“It can’t be that bad, can it?” Changbin says. You shoot him a nasty glare that he definitely doesn’t deserve. 

“Well, Cheryl is kind of the worst,” Hyunjin agrees with you, though you’re not surprised. He’s never hidden his distaste for your other friend, and he has always been dramatic. 

Listening to Hyunjin and Changbin decide if you should go out tonight was much like listening to the angel and the devil on your shoulder… Hyunjin’s protests of how you should just stay in and forget that bitch, versus Changbin’s gentle persuasion of how it’s been a long time since you’ve let yourself let go. 

You take Changbin’s advice. And the boys don’t leave the house as you get ready, instead hooting and hollering when you walk out of your room in a little black dress, hair and makeup perfected. You smile sheepishly and try not to blush, but you’re used to their antics by now. When Cheryl comes to pick you up, Hyunjin stands behind you at your door, trying to comfort your nerves. 

“Have fun tonight,” he says, rubbing soothing circles into your back before bringing you into an embrace from behind. He rests his head on your shoulder. “Don’t let Cheryl convince you to do anything you’re not comfortable with, yeah?” It’s unspoken what he means, and you wonder if he’s referencing your conversation with Cheryl from earlier before you’re being pushed out the door. 

Smoothing your dress, you plaster a fake smile over your face before greeting your friend who is so excited about the evening. 

*** 

You should have listened to Hyunjin. 

That’s your first thought as Cheryl drags you into the club. It’s immediately apparent that she doesn’t really have interest in hanging out with you, and that she would much rather cling to her new situationship, Brad. Ugh. You needed a drink. 

You do just that, ordering yourself an alcoholic beverage of choice. As you are sitting at the bar, occasionally glancing over at Cheryl, you see some other guy walk up to her and start chatting idly. You have no particular investment in the conversation until you hear her say, “But my friend Y/N is single!” Oh no. No no no. 

She always did this. You’re not even sure why you agreed to hang out with her anymore. Maybe because you’re a pushover? You can’t help but wish that Hyunjin and Changbin were here to rescue you from this situation. The thought makes you laugh, knowing that Changbin would try to radiate an intimidating energy to get guys to back off and Hyunjin would cling to you dramatically. 

“Hey, pretty girl.” The man approaches and takes the seat on your other side. Taking a deep breath, you turn and give him an awkward smile, already thinking of ways you can turn him down gently. 

“Hi,” you respond, staring at your drink. The man immediately starts talking. His name is Drew, he’s like 10 years older than you, and he really likes golfing. You nod politely, but after 10 minutes you realize you haven’t even been able to get a single word in. This guy doesn’t really care about you, you realize, he just wants to hear himself talk. 

“Excuse me,” you say, standing up. Drew shoots you a nasty look but dismisses you nonetheless, finding someone else to talk to that hopefully cares more than you do. 

“Cheryl,” you say, trying to get your friend’s attention. She’s making out with Brad. Just great. “Cheryl!” You say it again, louder, touching her shoulder in the process. 

“What?” She snaps, shooting you a dirty look. 

“I want to leave.” 

She scoffs at you. “You always do this,” she says, rolling her eyes. 

“I don’t care, I’m sorry. I just really want to leave.”  “I tried hooking you up with someone! Can’t you just leave with whatever-his-name?” 

“I don’t want to leave with Drew,” you respond bluntly. 

“Ugh. Can you stop being such a prude? This is why you’re still a virgin.” She turns over to Brad and laughs with him. They’re laughing at you. For not going home and hooking up with a man 10 years older than you. You feel tears prickling in your eyes, being the target of a joke everyone seems to understand but you. Wordlessly, you shoot your friend the nastiest glare you can accomplish in the moment and leave. 

You start walking before you can really think. It’s dark outside and cold, and you don’t really know where you are. Cheryl drove, of course. You can’t help but think that the whole night has been one big mistake. Sighing, you take out your phone and text your group chat, knowing exactly who would come and help you in a time like this. 

Y/N Starting sharing their location

Y/N: Hey can someone come pick me up 

Binnie: 👍 Hyunjinnie: On my way! 

You slump against the cold concrete, letting yourself cry a little bit. Sure, you ruin your pretty makeup that you spent so long on, but who the fuck cares at this point? Wiping your eyes, you see a familiar black car pull up. Before you can stand, Changbin is already getting out of the car. 

“Are you okay? What happened?” He pulls you to your feet, examining you for any signs of injury. You look at him, lip trembling, but when your eyes meet you can’t help the sobs that escape. “Oh, sweetheart,” he says, pulling you into a big hug. He’s warm, and you can smell the musky scent of his cologne from here. You let it comfort you before pulling away. 

“Can we just go home?” You ask. 

“Of course,” he says, opening the car door for you to get in. Hyunjin shoots you a worried glance from the driver’s seat, and you give him a pathetic smile. 

You notice when Changbin starts playing your favorite songs in an attempt to cheer you up, and admittedly you already feel better, though you don’t speak a word for the rest of the drive. 

*** 

When you finally arrive in your apartment, you’re not surprised when Changbin and Hyunjin follow you in. You let out a loud sigh and face the two men looking at you expectantly. 

“It went just about as I expected,” you said with a dry laugh. When neither of your friends say anything, you start speaking. The words come out faster than you’d like and you know that you’re word vomiting, but it’s fine. They were used to it by now. “Cheryl was dismissive the whole night and tried to set me up with this guy she had just met, he was like, 10 years older than me and he kind of gave me the creeps… and when I told her I wanted to leave she told me to just go home with him.” You take a deep breath, gauging their reactions. “When I told her no, she called me a virgin prude and laughed at me, so I left.” 

The look of anger immediately spread on their faces and you found your own heating up from embarrassment. You looked down out at the ground, willing the tears that pricked at your lash line to go away. 

“Y/N…” Changbin’s gentle voice soothed you and you immediately fell into his embrace. You spare a glance at Hyunjin and know that he’s absolutely furious. You wince. 

“How dare she,” he starts. Changbin gives him a warning glare and tightens his grip on you. 

Pulling away, you tuck your hair behind your ears and look at them sheepishly. 

“Maybe she’s right,” you laugh. “Maybe I should’ve just gone home with some random guy. Maybe I should’ve just lost my virginity and gotten it over with.”

“Don’t say that.” It’s Changbin’s stern voice this time that pulls you out of your thoughts. 

“But–”

“No,” they say in unison. 

“It’s just… everybody else seems to be okay with going out, partying, loosening up, sleeping with people, and then there’s me.” 

“Y/N… there’s a reason why you haven’t… slept with anyone yet, right?” Changbin asks. Hyunjin looks at you expectantly. 

“I mean, of course. I was waiting for the right person.” 

“So you’ve suddenly changed your mind?” Changbin says softly. 

“No, but there’s no right person, Changbin. I don’t know what I’m waiting for anymore, because there’s never going to be that perfect person. I’m never going to be enough—“ 

“That’s not true,” Hyunjin says sternly. You give him an exasperated glare and turn around toward your room. 

“Is there something you’re seeing that I’m not? Because as far as I can tell, that’s the exact truth and you know it.” 

“You don’t have to sleep with anybody just because she’s pushing you to. She’s putting a lot of pressure on you and that makes her a bad friend,” Hyunjin says. “Virginity is a stupid, made up concept anyway. Don’t do it if you don’t want to.” 

“I do want to, though!” You say, exasperated. “I just want to see what everybody else sees. Maybe I don’t want to fuck around, but I want to have sex!”

Before you know it you’re pushed up against the wall by Hyunjin, his head buried in your neck and his breathing heavy as if he were trying to control himself. His actions make you dizzy and your breath hitches from his contact on your skin. 

“Hyune—“ 

“We could help.” 

“What?” Your stomach drops and your breathing increases at his implications. You’re sure you misheard him. 

“We could help you, if you want. You’re more than enough to us, and you should know that. Sleeping with us won’t change that, or make it any more true, but if you want to do it that badly, we’re right here.” 

You gulp. “You mean both of you…? At the same time?” You allow yourself to look at Changbin who is standing with his arms crossed and his eyes dark. 

“If you’re comfortable with that, yeah,” Changbin nods, meeting your eyes before looking away. 

“You should want to do it for the first time with someone who really cares for you,” Hyunjin explains. His hands take place on your hips and start to rub small circles and you find yourself arching into him, already seeking his touch. “Not some random guy at the bar whose name you don’t know and won’t even try to make you cum.” You gasp slightly and Hyunjin smirks, his breath hot against your neck. Changbin lessens the space between you and finds himself at your side, mindlessly brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. 

“And we really care for you,” Changbin adds. You nod at his words as Hyunjin starts to nip at your skin, letting his tongue trace circles until he finds the spots that make you breathless. 

“What… if I’m really bad?” You stutter. 

“You don’t have to worry about that. We’ll show you how to do everything… make you feel good. Plus, it’s just us…” Changbin leans in and makes contact with your lips. The kiss is chaste, testing the waters, though you let out a small moan against him. When he smiles against your kiss you smile as well. Alright. You can do this. It’s just Changbin and Hyunjin. You’ve known them forever and you do trust them more than anything, even if they do annoy you and break into your house on your day off.

“Okay,” you say with a shaky breath. 

“Yeah?” Hyunjin licks a thick stripe up your neck which makes you hiss, quickly swallowed up when Changbin leans in to kiss you again. 

“Yeah.” 

You walk to your bedroom and lead the way and even though they had been inside hundreds of times before, this felt different. The air was permeated with the thick scent of desire. You sit on your bed, looking at the floor. “Now what?” 

Changbin sits down in front of you, tilting your head up to meet his eyes. “Now you relax and let us make you feel good, okay? You can tell us what you like and what you don’t like, and anytime you want us to stop we will. Immediately. Does that sound good?” 

You nod your head, your skin becoming flushed. 

“Words, baby.” You don’t admit how those words make your heart jump right out of your chest. 

“Right. Yes. Okay.” 

Hyunjin sits on the bed next to you and you tilt your head to look at him. He starts by grabbing your hair and pulling you into him to meet his lips, and this time the kiss is hot and full of both desire and anticipation of what is to come. 

Meanwhile, Changbin’s hands have come up to touch your thighs. You’re still wearing your dress from your night out so you’re more exposed to him than you usually would be. His large hands touch the insides of your thighs and you don’t even realize that you’re squeezing them together until he is pulling them apart, gently but with intent. His thumbs draw circles on the insides, watching the way you react to each movement. 

You let out a breath into the kiss which Hyunjin takes as an opportunity to deepen the kiss, allowing himself the opportunity to swirl his tongue against yours. 

When Changbin’s fingers finally make their way to your clothed core you let out a moan. You can’t help it. His two fingers slide up and down the fabric that’s already wet, though he focuses on bringing attention right to your clit. You buck your hips up into his hand. 

“So needy,” Hyunjin laughs, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. Breathlessly you look at him in the eyes and turn away, embarrassed. 

His fingers make their way to your chin, turning your head to meet his gaze again. 

“It’s a good thing,” he says. “You don’t need to hide. Not from us.” With that, he pulls down the front of your dress, revealing your tits to him. He doesn’t break eye contact when his thumbs start to graze over your nipples in soft circles, teasing. 

“Baby, can I take these off?” Changbin asks, his thumbs in the waistband of your underwear. You nod your head vigorously, letting out a soft chuckle from both of the men at your eagerness. When you lift your hips Changbin slides the material off of your legs, now discarded somewhere across the room. 

The breath he lets out when he looks at your glistening core leaves you dizzy. “So pretty,” he all but whispers. “Just for us.” He wastes no time before touching you again with purpose. When one of his fingers teases your entrance you realize you’re already a writhing pathetic mess for them. He dips his finger into your entrance shallowly, collecting your wetness before taking it and circling it right back to your clit. Hyunjin continues his ministrations as well, thumbing your sensitive nipples while leaving wet kisses across your neck and face. 

“You’re doing so good for us,” he whispers against your ear. You whimper. Your eyes are screwed shut, focused on all of the sensations on your body so you don’t even realize it when Changbin’s tongue makes direct contact with your clit, warm and wet. You gasp and lurch forward at the contact. 

“What’re you doing?” you moan. “Oh my God, Changbin, what–?”

“It’s okay, I got you baby. I got you.” His tongue flicks up and down against you, and when he pushes his tongue flat against your clit and you feel his warm breath on your entrance, you finally hear the filthy sounds that are coming out of your own mouth. You try to muffle them with your arm but it’s quickly pulled away. 

“Don’t,” Hyunjin says. “Let us hear you. Let us hear how good we’re making you feel.” 

“It’s so good… Bin… Please don’t stop,” you plead, eyes meeting his from where he sits between your legs. 

His finger starts thrusting in and out of your core at the same time Hyunjin’s lips meet your nipple, tongue flicking across one bud while his hand comes to pinch the other. It feels like a well-orchestrated plan plotted against you, you think. You’re babbling now about how close you are and your hand intertwines in Changbin’s hair. You buck your hips up against his mouth, trying to ride out your release and he lets you use his face for your pleasure happily. When he curls his one finger inside you harshly you cum, pulsing tightly on his digit. 

You have half the mind to apologize for being so rough and caught up in the moment, but when you finally open your eyes you gasp. Changbin looks at you with all lust and desire and dark eyes, absolutely entranced by you and with your release completely covering his mouth. When Hyunjin comes off of you with a pop he looks quite similar, and it surprises all of you when you initiate the kiss this time, immediately open mouthed and trying to get as much of him as you can. 

“Slow down, slow down,” he says with a shallow breath, pushing you away. “Are you okay? Do you want to keep going?” 

“Yes, please,” you whine. “I need someone inside of me. Please.” They both gulp, but Hyunjin quickly regains his composure. 

“You want just anybody inside you, hmm?” He teases. 

“Not just anyone… You, Hyune. Then Changbin. I can take it, please.” They both groan. 

“You’re going to be the death of me, you know that?” Hyunjin laughs. He helps you out of your dress completely now and it drops to the floor. You now stare completely bare in front of your friends and you think about covering yourself up but it seems they know you better when a hand reaches for your wrist to stop the motion. The words remain unspoken this time, but you know, not in front of them do you need to hide yourself. 

Changbin pushes you down gently to lay down on the bed and he lays on his side next to you. The way he stares at you almost makes you queasy, because you know deep down it’s not just lust and desire, but something more… The need to be with you, to see you, for you to be his implicitly. You wonder if he knows that you already are. That you’ve already belonged to them for the longest time. You kiss him and he kisses you back. 

In front of you, Hyunjin pulls down his pants. You prop yourself up on your elbows to watch and try not to let yourself become intimidated. He strokes himself a few times before he positions himself at your entrance. He looks at you, waiting for permission. 

“Go ahead, Hyunjin. Please.” Your words are soft but you know he’s heard you when his tip breaches your entrance. It’s already a bit of a stretch and you take a deep breath, tilting your head back. Changbin rubs circles into your arm to soothe you and you find that it works. Hyunjin shallowly thrusts out and then back in, allowing himself to get just a bit deeper. He slowly repeats the action until he’s flush against you, his hips meeting yours. The feeling is foreign but not painful, you decide. 

You watch Changbin lick his finger and then move it down to your clit, gently applying pressure. While Hyunjin hasn’t started moving yet, this allows you to relax a little bit more and your brain decides suddenly that it feels really good.  

“You’re doing so good for us,” Changbin says, repeating Hyunjin’s words from earlier. 

“S’good,” Hyunjin agrees. “Such a good pussy. You feel so good around me, love.” He starts to thrust now, though slow and gentle, and you start moaning. It feels different than anything you’d ever experienced before, though you know you really like it. 

“Faster,” you say. Hyunjin follows your directions instantly, watching and scrutinizing every reaction you make to ensure it’s completely pleasurable for you. Changbin’s hands are all over your body, grounding you; his hands rub up and down your arms and your tits, touching any area of skin accessible to him. 

Your hips start to buck up to meet Hyunjin’s. You’re getting close, you realize, though when Hyunjin picks up your legs and puts them over his shoulder, you gasp. He’s now reaching impossibly deeper inside you, and at this angle he’s able to completely control the pace. He hits that gummy spot deep inside you, one that you had never achieved reaching yourself before, and when he hits it your orgasm washes over you without warning. 

You cum with a cry, pulsing tightly around his cock. His moans are louder and you can tell he’s getting closer too but he fucks you through your orgasm. As your breathing steadies he pulls out of you and releases all over your stomach and you watch in awe. 

Taking two fingers, you scoop up his release and put it in your mouth, sucking it off your fingers. The two men groan at your actions which makes you smirk. 

“Changbin?” You ask, beckoning the man. 

“Are you sure, baby?” He asks, looking into your eyes for any signs of discomfort. 

“Want you too,” you say. It’s Hyunjin’s turn to slump next to you and he does so, wrapping his arms around you while Changbin takes his position. 

When Changbin pushes into you you let out an unabashed moan, pushing yourself into Hyunjin’s chest to ground yourself. He shushes you and combs his fingers through your hair. The stretch is different this time, as Changbin’s thicker but Hyunjin is longer. 

“Feels good, Binnie,” you say. 

“I know,” he responds. “I got you. Let me take over, okay?” And he does, at first cautious of his pace to not hurt you, but he soon follows up with a brutal pace that has your head spinning. He feels delicious inside of you just like Hyunjin did, and when you get close this time you don’t feel embarrassed by the loud sounds that come out of your body. You’re so close to your peak, almost there… when Changbin pulls out. You make a sound that comes out as a whine, but before you can complain further you’re flipped onto your hands and knees. 

Changbin teases his cock up and down your wet slit, sensitive and already so close to an orgasm, and the sound you make is downright pathetic. 

“You want it?” Changbin teases. 

“Oh my God, please… Changbin please, I was so close, don’t tease,” you beg. Hyunjin practically coos and his lips meet yours right as Changbin sinks back into you. You feel delirious from the pleasure and it doesn’t take long before you cum again. Hyunjin’s kisses drink up all of the moans and breaths that come from your body as Changbin pounds into you. 

Changbin and Hyunjin spit praise at you as you finish, and shortly after you feel Changbin’s release all over your ass. You slump onto the bed, tired, and welcome Hyunjin’s arms around your frame. You nuzzle deeper into his embrace, entirely content. You barely register when Changbin comes to clean you off and then lays next to you. You’re in between your two favorite people in the entire world, completely safe and content. You let out a happy sigh. 

“Did you have a good time?” Changbin questions. You almost laugh. 

“Of course I did. I couldn’t imagine a better first time. Thank you… Thank you both.” 

“Do you think you’ll regret it?” Hyunjin asks.

“No. Never.” You look at his worried gaze and press a firm kiss to his lips. You’re satisfied laying between the two men, relishing their soft touches and warm embraces when you have a thought that makes you laugh. 

“Cheryl is going to be thrilled,” you say with an eye roll. 

Hyunjin groans. “God. Don’t tell her. She doesn’t deserve to know. In fact, you should block her,” he reasons. 

“Yeah. She’s kind of a bitch,” Changbin agrees. You and Hyunjin look at him wide-eyed, not used to him talking about other people like that. Then all three of you laugh. You look at Changbin and can tell that there’s something else that he wants to say. 

“I don’t want you to do this with anybody else,” he says with a deep sigh. “I want it to be us. Just me and Hyunjin. I don’t want anybody else to see you this way.” His words carry a deeper meaning and you know it. You bury your head into his chest and Hyunjin’s arms wrap around your waist. 

“I love you both. Do you know that?” You say. You’ve told them a hundred times, but the words needed to be said again. Albeit they are now said in a much more intimate context, you will let them interpret it however they want. They both hum in agreement, repeating the words back to you. 

You’re not sure what this meant for your friendships or your relationships, but you can’t bring yourself to care. Not now. The three of you fall asleep in your bed that night in an entanglement of arms and limbs, and you sleep peacefully knowing that no matter what, they would be there for you when you wake up. They have always been there, and they always will be.  *** A/N: I'm excited to announce that this is part 1/4 of a SKZ threesome series with various members ;) I have big things planned

Masterlist Recs

[astralnymphh]

♯┆spacesoldier/spacescientist!ellie: who won't shut up about the hookup between you and her from the night before, and longs to do it again, fully. .ᐟ ★

literally don't question the randomness of this blurb. i run on revelations and sudden visions, and this one was just too hot to let rot. i had to pause a whole request for this thing. and it's a bit rushed, i'll like expand on it some other time i just wanted to return to this trope. anyways, I digress— space scientist ellie, nine month voyage through the cosmos, hookups.. tipsy hookups.

it'd be morningtime in the wake of certain events preceding that memories would slowly begin to prick through the surface— owing to ellie's imperfect subtlety. hills and hills of planetary research, prototype weaponry, instructions on how to properly utilize said prototypes, and coffee-stained reports, dawdled through like the process couldn't get any more boring than it presently is; stress, procrastination, a murk in the thick of your thoughts— literal brainrot. then, the main office zone gate slides open, that little airy whir pulls through your ears, and the person that walks through foments sudden recollection to the promotion party last night. ellie. a new recruit under your stations wing— and the immodest girl who was under your hood many hours ago.

ellie is a damnable pesterer of love; portending that if you've ever been intimate with her, she'll be stuck to you like an idiot's tongue adheres to icicles in wintertime. and tipsy her definitely was after you two had sex: pleading for you to stay a minute longer to cuddle, pressing every work-related praise hot into your nape, mentioning how good you taste out of the blue, so on and so forth. yet now that it is a bright and advantageous morning, and considering that she woke up to the scent of you woven through each fiber of her clothes— she remembers, and she reminds.

ellie's got her legs crossed, arms crossed, leaned against your desk's edge, small butt of hers rudely stamping one of your precious folders; the usual stance she does when you're plying your trade, and she prying for attention. "seriously. thursday, you and me, conference room number twenty-seven, i'll bring wine and fetch dinner from the canteen— please?" an earnest ask, you can sense it in her tone; evenly pitched and soft, softer when she pleads, as always, albeit that the spaceship you dwell in has no actual restaurant so dating environments are centered around some good old D.I.Y and empty meeting rooms. her foot winds out slightly to tap the spokes of your office chair, nudging the focus you so dearly casted to the papers below you, to her instead. which regrettably works; tossing an eye roll as you spin, "dates and recreational dinners don't fit into anyone's schedule here, you know that." it aches to claim that, and aches harder to see her take that hit of an that answer. watching her head drop and her mouth tug into a contemplative shape that wanted to battle it out with excuses, loopholes, promises— but it forms into a grin rather, and decides to be impish. "had time for last night though, didn't we? a great time, actually, n' i wanna see where that.." her voice sinks into the pit of her throat— deep and reserved — and her thumbs start to do that cute fiddly thing at her waist, rolling over each other while the rest of her fingers intwine and overlap, "—takes us?" modifying her words into a delicate, unsure question. a toothy, one-sided smile and sad puppy brows, ugh you could just pinch her cheeks. but of course, she spices up the deal, "hopefully.. back into my room, if my flirting skills aren't total shit." annoyingly rambling as a way to showcase how gravely you've impacted her mind the last twelve or so hours. so grave, you're the only thing her motivation could cling upon to urge her limbs and weasel her sluggish weight out of bed earlier. "please?"

that please chisels a smile into your lips, unfortunately-fortunate, "god, you're so bad, williams." poking fun at her and coasting the wheeled chair away with the back of your knees straightening, rising from your seat with documents in-hand, and agreeance in-mind; written ripe on your lifted cheeks.

"was i?" said indirectly, a cocky implication twisting her cheeks to the same level as yours. it took you— let's say, two, three, awkward seconds of squinting before you understood her crafty-ass joke that took your words a completely different, and lewd direction. stupidly faced too: cocking her brow with the scar slicing through, and cocking one side of her head upwards too, overall just cocky. now you could just squeeze her annoying face until it exploded. figuratively.

"shut up." "okay."

MASTERLIST . DAILY CLICK . READ THIS . PALESTINE MP . DOC VER

[vivantesopvles]

‘What, then, would you say defines Dark magic?’ Professor Potter asks, not even bothering to look up from the homework he’s grading. 

It’s long past his office hours, but that has never stopped Tom from finding all sorts of excuses to knock on his door. Tom wouldn’t say the professor indulges him, per se; it’s just that their conversation often turns out so stimulating it’s impossible not to crave for more. 

‘Depends on who you are and how you approach the subject,’ Tom ventures carefully. ‘A Spellmaker, I imagine, would focus on the energy composition of a spell; the Dark ones require a high amount of magical output from the caster whilst also draining the subject. A Healer, on the other hand –’

‘That’s quite all right.’ Professor Potter lays down his quill, gives Tom a knowing look over his spectacles. ‘I am familiar enough with what Fawson has to say. I want to know what you think, Mr Riddle, after your – ah, shall I say intensive,’ a half-smile curves his lips, 'research on the subject.’

Tom feigns a look of innocence. His mind whirs. His eyes catalogue every outward sign the professor displays. Nothing. Tom can’t even tell if he’s angry or not.

‘I’m trying to get an internship at St Mungo’s,’ Tom fudges. ‘The research … it’s just for academic purposes.’

‘That’s not true, is it?’ Potter spins on his chair, and makes to stand up. His cane comes flying into his hand. Tom’s eyes widen when he feels magic, wild and forceful, gather around them like storm clouds. ‘Ten points from Slytherin,’ he smiles, ‘for lying. Now, Mr Riddle, can you tell what I’m doing?’

Out of thin air, where the turbulent rush of magic has been, water comes. And with a snap of his fingers, Potter traps them both in the centre of the vortex.

‘A hint,’ he says, ‘it’s not Dark, but definitely illegal.’

‘It’s the Forming,’ Tom says, awestruck by the great churning around them, loud as a waterfall. For it is no mere water; a single drop of it on Tom’s skin would be deadly. It’s Professor Potter’s magic in its purest, most concentrated form. 

‘So that brings us back to our question. What makes a spell Dark?’

Belatedly, Tom realises that he’s not to be punished for reading up on the Unforgivables, on Necromancy, on Horcruxes, or whatever it was Professor Potter saw him doing. This is a proper lesson – an introduction to the Dark Arts.

‘Complications,’ Tom breathes. He feels giddy all of a sudden, like he’s inhaled fairy dust. ‘When the practitioner suffers lasting complications to a spell or ritual, the process should be labelled as Dark.’

‘Very good,’ Potter says softly. ‘And that is why you will study under me from now on – not as a Hogwarts student, but my own apprentice. I do care about your well-being, Mr Riddle, even if you yourself might not.'

24052024 | @microficmay | elation

[thatswhatsushesaid]

i have been obsessing over this extremely short moment post-sunshot campaign for weeks now trying to put together a lengthier post about it, but i think the screenshots themselves arranged chronologically speak for themselves. so i will just post them and then talk about the framing, because i’m insane about it.

just about everyone else on this side of the banquet hall within the scorching sun palace is looking towards jin guangshan as he speaks—everyone except for:

1) jin guangyao, who is staring straight ahead with a startlingly flat and resigned expression on his face, despite being seated in a position of honour beside his brother, and

2) nie huaisang, who is obviously TRYING to pay attention, but his attention keeps wandering between looking at nie mingjue, and looking at jin guangyao

(also he gets no further commentary/acknowledgement from me but look at jin zixun back there just lounging in his seat like a smug spoiled brat. ugh. step on legos forever jin zixun.)

the camera shifts its focus while jgs keeps talking to zero in on jgy’s expression. this deliberately highlights and provides us the chance to see his expression in more detail. and it is so hard to discern what he is feeling specifically beyond “not great,” but what stands out for me is: he isn’t wearing his usual polite, customer service mask, the one he managed to keep in place both during the introductory sequence at the cloud recesses in the face of so much mockery from the jiang sect disciples.

so what is that expression? what is going on in his head that he can’t play the part that he’s perfect for years now, when he has supposedly almost achieved everything he ever dreamed of accomplishing for himself and his mother? i mean, i have my suspicions of course, because we know what is going to happen very soon.

and then—

—the focus of this scene changes, drawing our attention away from jin guangyao towards nie huaisang where he’s seated just behind nie mingjue. because nie huaisang is not paying attention to jgs’s speech or watching his da-ge. unlike everyone else in this banquet hall in this moment, nie huaisang is looking at jin guangyao, observing him in this moment where his polite mien has failed him, and god what i wouldn’t give to know what is going through his head!! because:

1) i don’t for a moment believe nmj told nhs the details of what transpired between him and jgy during their confrontation in the scorching sun palace. i don’t think he did this as a favour to jgy or to lxc, either. imo this decision would be consistent with nmj shutting down any discussion of what caused him to exile meng yao from the unclean realm back in… uhhh, episode 10?? when nhs, wwx and jc all converge in the unclean realm throne room to ask about meng yao’s fate. (yeah it was episode 10.) anyway for all we know this is the first time nhs has seen his old body guard/babysitter since he watched meng yao totter feebly into the wild blue yonder all those months ago, and now here he is seated in a place of honour between jin zixuan and his da-ge, looking perhaps even more miserable than he did while bleeding from a giant sword wound in his chest. it is entirely consistent with nhs’s character to be like ‘???? what is up with this??’ but not even he is bold enough to ask jgy what is up in the middle of this banquet, not with da-ge right there.

2) his expression is ALSO harder to read than it would have been when they were last together!! but there are clearly gears and cogs shifting and ticking and whirring behind his eyes, and the fact that the framing calls attention to nhs noticing jgy in this moment when it’s quite clear no one else does is one of many hints the show is dropping for us that nhs is more than just a lackadaisical and absent-minded second son. he notices things that no one else does—but, as with jgy, we are left to guessing as to what he is thinking, and what conclusions he is drawing.

well okay it looks like i managed to write a lot of words down about this after all!! go me.

[heeseungiez]

let me in » s. jy

pairings! sim jake x afab!reader (p.sh x reader if you squint)

synopsis! in which jake agrees to help you get closer to sunghoon despite having feelings for you.

warnings! none really, angst, fluff, jake and reader are best friends and slightly dumb, lots of RIOT (valo/league) mentions ??

word count! 5k+

a/n! this is something i wrote like a month back? i've been writing one-shots for myself for months tbh so i guess i'm releasing some of them into the wild, you could say

Jake has been in your life for as long as you could remember. You two have lived next door for ages and your parents were practically best friends. That meant spending unholy amounts of time with Jake even if you didn’t want to, but Jake was a great person to hang around so you never really complained. 

Today was no different. Your two families gathered to celebrate your younger sister’s birthday. It wasn’t anything special nor big as your parents disliked big parties and having to attend to far too many guests, so the party consisted of your family, Jake’s, and your sister’s friends that she invited herself. Your sister wasn’t much younger than you, only three years, which meant that they were old enough to ogle Jake due to his conventionally attractive looks. 

You would’ve loved to stay in the main area of the house with the girls just to watch Jake suffer, but the puppy eyes he kept shooting you made you actually feel bad for him. So you two ended up going to your room. You ignored the loud whispers of your sister’s friends as they asked her whether you and Jake were dating.

“Thanks.” Jake let out a relieved breath when you closed the door to your room, and you laughed at him, examining the lost expression on his face. 

“You really can grow out of your nerd looks, even if the nerd stays, huh?” you teased the boy, giggling when he looked at you, his eyes wide and distressed by the excessive female attention. 

If he’d been with his other friends, he would’ve probably played it cool. But since it was only your two families and those girls, the attention was probably overwhelming. Especially when those girls were fifteen and you two were about to graduate high school.

“Is this your way of complimenting my looks?” Jake retorted, crossing the room to lie down on your bed. He closed his eyes, finally relaxing after being harassed by a group of pre-teens.

“Do you even need it?” you replied, joining Jake on the bed.

You lay down next to him, your arms slightly touching. Glancing at each other, the two of you broke out in a fit of giggles over the silliness of the situation.

Jake turned on the bed to stare at you once you both calmed down, and your brow rose in curiosity, wondering what was on his mind.

“Hey, you have a date to the prom yet?” he asked, to which you shook your head in response. 

“No,” you said, pursing your lips, “but I was thinking of asking Sunghoon… I don’t know if he’ll say yes if I ask… actually, do you know if he already has a date?”

Jake’s smile faltered the slightest bit as he shook his head, but you only paid attention to what this meant rather than how Jake felt. “Not as far as I’m aware. Pretty sure only Heeseung and Jay have dates.”

Your eyes widened. “Wait, so you don’t have a date either? Then, um, I can help you get one if you help me with Sunghoon!” you suggested energetically, shooting up from your bed as your mind began whirring with ideas for who you could pair Jake up with. 

“Right. Yeah.” Jake sat up on the bed, nodding. You barely noticed the way Jake longingly stared at you as you began pacing in your room, thinking of a plan. The thing was, Jake had been asked by several people to the prom already, but he turned down all of them because he was trying to find the perfect moment to ask you. Except it seemed he just lost the opportunity overall.

“There’s still more than a month left, which means we have a lot of time to find you a proper date. And I mean, look at you, there should be no issues,” you said thoughtfully, turning to Jake to examine him. He was beautiful from head to toe, his black hair styled to the side so his hair wouldn’t fall into his eyes, big brown eyes and a large enchanting smile. You could probably easily get one of your girlfriends to go with him without much convincing if you asked them.

Jake continued to nod, running a hand through his hair. Licking his lips, he struggled to find the right words to tell you that he didn’t want your help with finding a date, since he wanted you to be the date. But no words would come out even as you continued pacing back and forth between your collection of female superhero figures and your fantasy bookshelf.

“How should I approach Sunghoon?” you asked rhetorically, but still looked to Jake for guidance, hoping that he would have some tips to offer regarding one of his best friends. But he only shrugged in response.

“Just talk to him,” he said unhelpfully to you. “He knows you, you know him. I’d say the best approach is to be direct with him.”

You let out a laugh. “Ha, as if.” You shook your head. There wasn’t a bit of confidence in you to actually approach Sunghoon directly and ask him to the prom. No, you needed a plan that would trick him into thinking that he was the one who wanted to go to prom with you. 

Jake hummed, ignoring the way his chest constricted at the interest you showed for his best friend. He wanted to be the guy you wanted to ask you to the prom, but you didn’t even seem to consider the possibility. Instead, you were already mentally browsing through the list of girls that you could potentially set up with Jake, and he hated it.

“Could you get Sunghoon to teach me to ice skate? A double date on an ice rink could be awesome,” you said, playing out a scene in your head that was heavily reminiscent of that one Teen Wolf scene in season one where Lydia completely showed off her ice skating skills.

“Teach you? Didn’t you do figure skating for like a year and then quit when we were twelve?” Jake asked with a raised brow.

“See, if I knew that continuing would mean meeting Sunghoon I’d probably keep at it too,” you replied, shrugging. “I did a lot of things when I was twelve to be honest.”

Jake chuckled in agreement, glancing at a part of your wall that — surprisingly — wasn’t covered in posters, and instead showcased several trophies and medals from your many short-lived hobbies when you were in primary and middle school. The awards ranged from sports like basketball, gymnastics, archery and dancing to singing, computer science, maths and that one physics competition Jake talked you into in eighth grade because it was in pairs. 

“And you literally dropped everything,” Jake remarked, shaking his head. 

“Well, it’s not my fault I caught a disease from you.” You pouted, looking at Jake. “You should’ve never let me discover the absolute thrill of playing League of Legends,” you said sarcastically, and Jake rolled his eyes at you. You had a love-hate relationship with the game, though these days you spent more time playing Valorant. It would be a waste if you didn’t since you had to spend hours watching Twitch streamers to get the early beta key to the game.

“You don’t even play with me anymore,” Jake said sulkily. 

“Sucks to suck, doesn’t it?”

Jake stuck out his tongue at you, and you giggled at how childish but cute it was. “Anyway, I doubt Sunghoon’s gonna fall for it if you pretend to not know how to ice skate.”

“Fine, I won’t pretend then.” Shrugging, you plopped down on your bed, invading Jake’s personal space. He didn’t know whether to push you away or bring you closer, and it made his head spin.

“But you still want to go to the ice rink?”

“Yeah.” You grinned, thinking of ways to impress Sunghoon. Unlike Jake, he did not know of your past as a figure skater, which meant that he would not expect you to be able to keep up with him, at least when it comes to basics.

“I hate you,” Jake mumbled.

Why was he even going along with this?

Getting access to the ice rink was perhaps too easy. You knew the owners because of your figure skating days, and despite not actively ice skating anymore, you did like to stop by every now and then, usually with friends that were not Jake. The owners also knew Sunghoon, so when you mentioned his name, that was probably the deciding point for them. They let you stay after the ice rink officially closed, and told you the passcode for the day to get your friends in.

You passed the code over to Jake so he’d be the one opening the doors to the friend you invited along for Jake and Sunghoon.

For now, you were at the empty ring all by yourself. You chose to wear a pair of leggings and a warmer jacket only, staying on the ice in your skates to keep yourself warm, though you could feel the redness in your cheeks and nose, affected by the cold. You were mostly doing laps around the ring, switching between front and back skating, occasionally adding in a spin there and a jump here, your blood rushing through every limb as you stretched them all out while balancing yourself on the ice.

Unbeknownst to you, your friends entered the ice rink area, quietly watching you in awe for different reasons. Jake hadn’t seen you skate in years and this was his first time seeing you on ice again. Your friend just didn’t know how truly good you were when it came to your abilities, as you usually spent your time chasing each other on the ice whenever you came here. Sunghoon didn’t even know you could figure skate.

“Is she just perfect at everything she does?” your friend asked rhetorically, glancing at Jake. None of them could find the strength in them to stop watching you and let you know that they were present.

“Basically,” Jake replied.

“Her form isn’t perfect,” Sunghoon remarked, breaking the spell with his insight. “She’s good and has talent, but she lacks a lot of proper training.” Neither Jake nor your friend could fight Sunghoon on that. He was the professional figure skater out of the four of you, after all. 

“You can help her then,” said your friend, bringing the support you invited her along for. 

Sunghoon ignored your friend, walking over to the tribunes to put his skates on instead. Jake followed after him while your friend scoffed and crossed her arms across her chest. Out of the boys, she’d always liked Jake the most, so it wasn’t hard to convince her to come along.

“Y/N, hey!” she called to get your attention. You abruptly halted in the middle of the ice rink, your eyes going towards your friend before spotting Jake and Sunghoon as well, though neither were paying attention to you as of now. “How long have you been here?” 

You skated across the ring to reach your friend. “Not long,” you said. “What’s the time now?”

“Like, ten-thirty?” she replied with a shrug.

“Okay, then maybe I’ve been here for about half an hour.”

Your friend shook her head, staring at you in disbelief. “You should’ve told us to drag our asses here earlier!” she scolded you. “Why did you never tell me you can figure skate?”

“I haven’t told anybody, to be honest,” you replied. “Only a very select number of people know. Like my family and Jake and his family. Some people from middle school… but nobody talks about it anyway. It wasn’t anything to talk about much since I didn’t go competitive.”

Your friend smacked her lips together in disapproval. “All I’m hearing is you’re wasting away your talents… and for what? So you can play a shooting game?” She deadpanned, judging you with narrowed eyes. You offered a nonchalant smile and shrugged.

“Valorant is life,” you said. “I’m also trying to get out of plat in League. It’s ass.”

“Girl.” Your friend rolled her eyes. “No wonder you get along with Jake’s friends so well…”

“Is that supposed to be an insult, ‘cause it sure sounds like one.” You stared at your friend with one raised brow, but she made no expression that would give away the true meaning behind her words. It was whatever you wanted it to be, or whatever you interpreted it as.

“At least they’re pretty,” she said. “Besides, it’s only been like ten minutes and Sunghoon’s already a dick.”

“Really? How so?”

“He basically said you suck, and then ignored me,” said your friend, and you could sense she was exaggerating from the way she pretended to be hurt, and the pout on her lips.

“I do suck.” You grinned, glancing over at Jake and Sunghoon who were in a deep conversation about something while tying their skates. “But whatever. I’m bored. Hurry up and get on the ice.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah… jeez.”

Sunghoon approached you on the ice not long after your friend disappeared to change from her shoes, and you smiled brightly at the taller boy, examining his fit. It wasn’t as casual as yours since he wore a black bomber jacket on top of a white T-shirt with black jeans, but it also wasn’t not-not-casual. 

“Jake said you used to do figure skating?” Sunghoon tilted his head to the side, stopping right in front of you. He examined you as if he were standing in front of a complete stranger rather than somebody he’d known for years,  and you challenged him by staring back at him.

“Yep,” you hummed in response. “It’s been a while, though.”

“I could see that,” Sunghoon remarked, which reminded you of your friend saying that Sunghoon practically said you suck. Well, there it was. Except there was still some sort of awe in his voice as he watched you. He scratched the back of his neck awkwardly, pursing his lips. “Sorry, that probably sounded mean.”

You shook your head, patting Sunhoon’s shoulder reassuringly. “It’s fine. I’m not necessarily out of practice but I’m also not in good shape so… your honesty is appreciated.”

“Since when do you figure skate anyway?”

“I was in middle school,” you replied. “Like, around the time I started getting bored of basketball, so I wanted to try something new.”

Sunghoon nodded, assuring you that he was listening.

“After about two months of practice, my trainer wanted me to go competitive, but I never did. Like, I liked it enough but I didn’t really have the motivation, you know? So I lasted for about a year before dropping figure skating… it also didn’t help that I started playing League.” You laughed, realising that you dropped a ton of your hobbies for the worst best game in the world. 

Sunghoon cleared his throat, crossing his arms in thought. “That’s weak.” He shook his head in disapprovement. “I played League and continued to figure skate.”

You rolled your eyes at him. “Yeah, and then you’re hardstuck silver…””

Sunghoon scoffed.

“I did gymnastics instead, though,” you explained yourself with a shrug. “That one lasted longer and I even won a few competitions. Dancing after that. But the only thing that stayed is Riot.” You laughed at the sceptical look on Sunghoon’s face.

“You’re such a weirdo.”

“And you’re a loser,” you shot back. 

“The medals and trophies in my house say differently,” Sunghoon claimed matter-of-factly, but you dismissed him with a wave of your hand.

“I’ve never seen them, so they don’t exist to me.”

“Oh, so you’re an empiricist all of a sudden?” 

“Always been one.” You crossed your arms across your chest, the corner of your mouth raised in a tiny smirk when you saw that Sunghoon was smiling too. You’d never shared a one on one conversation with him before since you were usually surrounded by the rest of the friend group, but it was nice speaking to him like this.

“I’ll show you when you come over one day,” he said, and your brow shot up.

“Wow. I’m so honoured to get the opportunity,” you replied, grinning. “I’ve always wanted to meet Gaeul.”

“As you should… she’s much cuter than Layla.” Sunghoon glanced at Jake, who seemed to be in a conversation with your friend now. Neither of the two had stepped on the ice yet.

You narrowed your eyes at Sunghoon, shaking your head. “That’s debatable. I’m practically Layla’s mum. Jake and I have shared custody.”

“Damn,” Sunghoon laughed, and so did you.

You made a sound that signalled you were cold, clasping your hands together to rub them and create some heat. Sunghoon looked at you but didn’t say anything besides reaching into his pockets to hand you a pair of gloves. You accepted it with a smile and put them on, appreciating the heat they offered despite being too big for your hands.

“Wanna race?” you asked because you truly needed something to make your blood rush again. Your cheeks burned with cold, and you were sure your entire face was flushed.

“Sure. But you can’t beat me,” Sunghoon said confidently.

“We’ll see about that.” You giggled, pushing Sunghoon back with all your strength before starting off your first lap around the rink.

Jake and your friend still sat at the gate, and he shook his head watching you and Sunghoon race. With your head start, you managed to keep a fair distance from Sunghoon, but he was catching up the longer you two skated around. He hated watching you laugh as Sunghoon chased after you, a frown forming on his lips, which your friend noticed easily.

She nudged Jake’s shoulder with hers and gave him a knowing look. “I honestly thought you’d have asked her to the prom by now,” she said.

Shrugging, Jake shook his head. “If I ask her whenever, she’ll just say yes out of pity. And she’s set on going with Sunghoon anyway,” he said, staring at the ground, kicking the tough rubber material with the sharp end of his skates.

“Yeah, but she just likes him,” said your friend. “She loves you. Nobody’s gonna pity you, Jake. Be for real right now. Do you even know why I agreed to come here?”

Jake merely blinked at your friend.

“I was thinking of helping you ask Y/N to prom,” she admitted, grinning. “Which you’re not gonna do if you’re just gonna sit on your ass and watch her flirt with your best friend.”

Jake glanced at you, showing off by skating backwards. You jumped up and spun, making Sunghoon clap while he followed after you. He was the next one to show off by spinning in place. You gathered some speed on the ice and made an abrupt stop right in front of him, showering him with shaved ice.

“YA, Y/N!” Sunghoon shouted after you, and you skated away, giggles echoing through the rink.

“I’m actually not really good at ice skating,” Jake admitted, licking his lips in frustration.

“Don’t you ever go ice skating with Y/N?” your friend asked because she was one of the friends that you occasionally went ice skating with. Jake shook his head.

“I just avoid it ‘cause I’m bad at it.”

“You’re such a pleb.” Your friend rolled her eyes. “C’mon, let’s get on the ice. It’ll be easier for you if you go willingly,” she warned him, a malicious glint in her eye. The hidden threat was well received, and Jake stood up instantly, your friend following after him.

“Look out!” you shouted out at the exact moment Jake entered the rink. You tried to stop, but you still managed to topple Jake over, the two of you falling roughly on the ice while Sunghoon and your friend watched.

She, being the friend that she was, burst out laughing, while you held yourself up above Jake. He lay on the ice on his back, splattered in defeat because the last thing he expected was to fall the moment he stepped on the ice. He stared up at you, cheeks flushed from the cold, hair falling into your eyes, and he wished he could tell you how much he cared about you in that moment, had it not been the most embarrassing situation you found yourself in.

“I’m so so so so so sorry,” you apologised profusely, getting up. Your knees hurt from the fall since you tried to not completely splat on top of Jake. He was lucky to still be breathing properly and not getting his breath kicked out of him from the fall.

“It’s fine,” he said, turning to his front with a groan so he could get up, too. “I’m totally fine,” he repeated as you helped him up, and you laughed at his lame attempt to play it cool. But then he squirmed his eyes, gripping his left hip.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” you asked, moving your hands to his hip, touching it lightly to know if his jacket managed to block some of the impact. Though you doubted it, wanting to just lift the jacket up and see if a bruise would form.

“Yeah, it’s whatever,” he lied.

“I’m really sorry, Jake,” you apologised again, grabbing his hands with your gloved ones. He noticed that you had Sunghoon’s gloves on, obviously, and he wanted to get out of here, but that would mean disappointing you. That was the last thing he wanted.

You hugged him from the side and kissed his temple, and Jake’s whole body heated up from the contact, his pain partially forgotten.

Sunghoon and your friend watched from the sidelines. He leaned over to your friend and whispered: “You did that on purpose, didn’t you?”

“Well, I didn’t want Jake to hurt himself,” she said, but did not deny that she may have timed their entrance at around the same time as Sunghoon and you would be at the gate while doing your laps.

“So I’m not the only one who knows Jake’s head over heels for her.” Sunghoon nodded toward you, and your friend gave Sunghoon a weird look.

“You know?”

“Yep,” Sunghoon said. “I thought I’d help him confess by making him jealous, but he’s hopeless.” The boy shook his head.

“Surely, they’ll figure it out?” Your friend’s questioning tone made Sunghoon chuckle.

“Jake’s an idiot,” he stated, planting his hands on his hips.

“I noticed,” your friend agreed. “Can you actually ask Y/N to prom?”

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” Sunghoon scratched the back of his head. “I know Jake, and he’s more likely to give up if I do.”

“You don’t just give up years of affection.” Your friend shook her head, knowingly staring at you and Jake as you continuously tried to make him feel better. “Nah, he needs to get his shit together, and I think this will work in the long run. Just trust me. Besides, we also need to get Y/N to realise that she likes Jake and not you — no offence.”

Sunghoon scoffed. “Why wouldn’t she actually like me?”

“Because you’re a dickass,” your friend replied with a roll of her eyes.

“No I’m not.”

“Yes, you are.” Your friend gave Sunghoon an unimpressed look. “You’re not nicknamed the ice prince just because you’re a figure skater, dude. Everyone just thinks you’re unapproachable and mean as hell.”

“That’s not true,” Sunghoon defended himself.

“Then don’t act like a dick?” Your friend narrowed her eyes.

“Hmph, thanks for the advice,” he said sarcastically.

“Exactly.”

Sunghoon chose to ignore your friend, skating over to you and Jake instead. You giggled at something Jake said, covering your mouth. “I actually forgot you suck at skating,” you said.

Jake glared at you. “I’m not that bad,” he said.

“You’re terrible,” you disagreed with him, noticing Sunghoon.

“She’s not wrong, hyung. You’re crouching too much and putting your weight backward instead of forward. If you’re going to fall, you’re supposed to fall on your front since your back… well, you know now.”

Grunting, Jake looked between you and Sunghoon, shaking his head. “I’m fine,” he said, attempting to skate away from you, but he slipped. Jake managed to balance himself and stay on his feet, but the damage was already done as you and Sunghoon looked at him knowingly.

“Don’t push yourself too much if your hip still hurts,” you remarked.

“He’s trying to look cool,” Sunghoon commented, shaking his head. “Dumbass.”

“It’s cute.” You giggled.

Sunghoon hummed, not entirely agreeing with you. “By the way, Y/N, I’ve been told you still don’t have a date to prom?”

“Very much so.” You nodded, glancing at Sunghoon curiously.

“Wanna go with me?” he asked, accelerating your weeks-long plan to get Sunghoon to ask you. Well, in your head, the scene was supposed to be much more romantic than him casually asking you, but you were satisfied regardless.

“Really?” You tilted your head to the side, genuinely surprised by the turn of events. “I’d love to.” You grinned.

“M’kay, awesome.”

That was suspiciously easy…

Jake officially hated prom. He despised it. Abhorred it. Whatever other synonym there was to describe hate. That was how he felt about the stupid fucking prom that you went to with Sunghoon instead of him. Because now he sat at a table near the refreshments with a frown on his lips, staring at you and Sunghoon while you danced and talked and laughed together. 

Jake had barely spoken to Sunghoon since he asked you to prom. Yes, it was out of pettiness, but he also didn’t want to talk about you, which would certainly end up being a topic in their conversation. Like you and Jake, they were also best friends, but it was different. As different as friendships between two boys could be, but also as two people who had met each other in middle school, rather than knowing one another practically since birth.

And he couldn’t talk about you with him either. He feared telling you about his feelings because he didn’t want to face rejection, and he also feared bringing you up with Sunghoon because if Sunghoon said he liked you too, then Jake wasn’t going to fight him over you. Not that you weren’t worth the fight, rather than it being your decision in the end, so the fighting would mainly hurt the friendships in the end. 

So he was stuck here. While everyone else was dancing and having fun. Jake was the only one without a date at the prom, and the only thing that felt wrong about it was you not being by his side. 

Little did he know that you felt the exact same way. Especially when you found out that Jake ended up not asking anyone to prom. You thought it would work out with your friend at least, but Jake didn’t ask her, and someone else did. And then Jake didn’t seem to even want to ask anyone at all, and when you wanted to confront him about it, he turned dismissive. 

You were having fun with Sunghoon. He was great. A bit quiet, but a very good listener — he was similar to Jake in that way. Which, after spending a bit more time with him, you noticed a lot. How both boys shared many similarities that you couldn’t help but compare. Though Jake was undeniably more bubbly, while Sunghoon was a rather brooding type of guy.

So you missed Jake. A lot. 

You missed spending all of your time with him. You missed talking to him until it was very late. You missed his laugh. And you absolutely regretted not asking him to prom. Because that was what you should have done. What should have been your first thought. Not Sunghoon, but Jake, your best friend. 

These thoughts likely projected on your face because Sunghoon noticed. He eyed you with the softest smile on his lips and a knowing glint in his eye. He caught you glancing in Jake’s direction more than once. It hurt his pride a little, since he was just a guy at the end of the day, but the other part of him was smug because, in a way, his plan was working.

But he also wanted to come up to Jake and scream at him to stop being such a coward. So he was just a bit conflicted because part of him wanted Jake to actually do something on his own — to finally act according to his feelings — while the other part of him wanted to serve it to him on a silver platter.

Why did Jake have to be such a loser (affectionately)?

“Hey, is it okay if I just… go to Jake for a bit?” you asked Sunghoon, staring up at him. He wanted to laugh at the fact you were asking him permission, but he supposed it was the nice thing to do since he was your date.

“Yeah, it’s fine.” Sunghoon nodded, stepping away from you. “I think I’ll step out for a bit. It’s getting too loud in here.” He wasn’t lying. The music and everyone around them were loud. It was overwhelming, and Sunghoon wanted to get away. This was his opportunity.

You smiled, grabbing Sunghoon’s hand to squeeze it in understanding. “Okay. Thank you.” He watched you fight through the crowd to approach Jake for a bit before making his way outside of the gymnasium.

“You look like the biggest loser ever,” you said the moment you were within Jake’s earshot. He looked up at you in surprise. The boy was dozing off on the spot, not paying attention to his surroundings anymore, rather lost in his own thoughts of self-pity.

“Hey, Y/N, why are you—”

“Sunghoon wanted to get out, and I thought you could use some company,” you explained with a grin, grabbing a chair. You sat down next to Jake, nudging his shoulder with yours. “I don’t get it.” You shook your head. “Why didn’t you ask anyone to be your date? It’s not like people would say no to you.”

Jake chuckled. “I didn’t really wanna go with anyone,” Jake answered, shrugging. “I mean, I did, but I didn’t.”

“Wow. How very logical of you.” Playfully rolling your eyes, you nudged him again, which made him look at you with those big puppy eyes of his, a thin smile decorating his lips.

“I wanted to go with you,” he admitted quietly, averting his gaze to the dancing crowd.

“Then why didn’t you ask me?” You looked at him solemnly, lips pursed. If Jake had wanted to go to prom with you this whole time, all he had to do was ask. You would always say yes. You had assumed Jake would want to have his own date, so you never even brought up the idea of going together.

“It didn’t seem like you wanted to go with me,” Jake murmured, staring at the ground.

“How would you know if you didn’t even ask me?” Your brow rose and you shook your head. 

“Sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry, dumbass, ask me for a dance,” you spoke bossily, surprising even yourself. It dawned on you now that perhaps you wanted to go with Jake too. 

Jake’s eyes widened. His heart doing somersaults in his chest. But he smirked, attempting to hide his embarrassment. “Dance with me?” he asked, standing up. Outstretching his hand toward you, he waited for you to accept it.

Grinning, you nodded. 

As you spent the rest of your prom by Jake’s side, Sunghoon never came back to find you, and you didn’t mind it at all.

[pickingupmymercedes]

Your future was Ferrari - Part 2/?

Part 1 here

summary: She was finally making her dreams come true, but as the old saying goes "when it rains, it pours" and maybe the nudge Charles gave her might get her somewhere she would never find on her own.

pairing: Lewis Hamilton x Ferrari!Reader!

warnings: alusion to mature content.

wordcount: +2K

a/n: Bit of a more internal debate chapter here, but it kind had to be done. Also, would you guys mind if I put explicit description of mature content on this fic? I skipped it on the first one but was thinking that it may be needed for the next ones

As always, I'm open for feedback, come say hi!

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The crisp January air of Maranello was a welcome change from the desert heat of Abu Dhabi. Three whirlwind months had passed since that unforgettable night, and now, amidst the intricate tapestry of Ferrari's world, everything was beginning to feel like home—the rhythmic pulse of machinery, fervent debates over car performance, and the rich aroma of freshly brewed espresso.

One tempestuous afternoon, while engrossed in finalizing a critical report, a summons arrived from Fred’s secretary. Your heart thudded against your ribs like a frantic drumbeat as you made your way to his office. Upon entering, you were greeted not only by Fred's imposing presence but also by Charles, whose eyes sparkled with an enigmatic glint.

"Ah, y/n! Glad you could join us," boomed Fred, gesturing to the empty chair opposite him. Charles flashed you a friendly grin.

As you settled into the plush leather chair, a tidal wave of nerves began to recede. The meeting commenced with a comprehensive review of your contributions and insights into Ferrari’s new car. Then, Fred dropped a bombshell that sent shockwaves through your core.

"We've been impressed with your work, y/n" he began, his voice serious. "I already knew of your great technical understanding and a quick-thinking, and Charles here, has been particularly vocal about his…" he paused, glancing at Charles with a smile, "enthusiasm for your skills."

A blush crept up your neck. Charles cleared his throat.

A blush surged across your cheeks, painting them a vivid shade of crimson. Charles, leaning in with a playful smirk, chimed in, "As you know, we’re an engineer short at trackside. The demands are intense—the relentless travel, the grueling 24-race season—but the experience is unparalleled. We believe you'd be the perfect addition to my side of the garage."

Your mind whirred at breakneck speed. The prospect of working trackside with Charles, under the revered banner of Ferrari, was intoxicating. You couldn’t deny the thrill of being closer to the action, the adrenaline rush of race weekends. Yet, a nagging voice of caution whispered reminders of the relentless schedule and unyielding scrutiny.

"It's a lot to consider," you admitted, looking between the two men.

Charles leaned back, a playful smile on his lips. "Think of it, y/n! You’ve always wanted that, even back at Alpha. Although, you would have to face the brunt of Fred's coffee breath during briefings" he joked, earning a chuckle from Fred.

"Alright," you announced, a grin splitting your face, "I'm in!"

The joy in Charles' eyes mirrored your own. He bumped your fist with a whoop. But as you left Fred's office, Charles stopped you in the hallway, his smile fading slightly.

"Hey," he began hesitantly, "about Abu Dhabi… I got a little carried away that night. What happened between you and Lewis? I never saw you after…"

The question sent a jolt through you. Your stomach lurched. How could you tell him the truth? Shame burned in your throat as you fumbled with your thoughts. "Oh, you know" you resorted to lies, forcing a casual smile "Fan stuff. Autographs and all that."

A flicker of disappointment crossed Charles' face. "Ah, right" he mumbled. "Well, see you in Bahrain then, it’ll be nice to have you in the pit wall!"

You plastered another smile on your face. Packing for Bahrain. Excitement bubbled beneath the guilt gnawing at your conscience. You were going trackside.

The shrill ring of your phone pierced the quiet of the dawn. It was an unusual wake-up call at 6:00 AM, especially on a Wednesday mid-winter break. Squinting at the screen, you saw your dad's name and answered with a groggy, "Hello?"

The familiar booming voice filled your ear. "Y/n! Did you hear the news? Lewis to Ferrari! Can you believe it?"

You forced a laugh. "Dad, there have been rumors about Lewis to Ferrari for years. Remember that time they photoshopped him in a red suit?"

"This feels different, though! There are articles everywhere, even F1 is buzzing about it." Your dad's excitement was palpable through the phone as a wave of nausea washed over you.

You mumbled an agreement, hanging up before he could pick up on the tremor in your voice. The news hung heavy in the air, a dark cloud amidst the usual pre-season jitters.

As you went about your day, the rumors intensified. Mentions on social media turned into breaking news alerts. By lunchtime, a tense hush had fallen over everyone at Maranello. An unexpected staff meeting announcement sent a jolt through everyone.

As you walked towards the assembly hall, a colleague whispered, "Did you hear? Brackley's having a meeting too."

Dread gnawed at your insides. You knew what this meant.

The hall was packed, a sea of expectant faces illuminated by the harsh fluorescent lights. Fred stood at the center; his face uncharacteristically serious. The silence in the room was deafening.

"Everyone," he began, his voice carrying an air of gravitas, "as you may be aware, there have been a lot of speculations circulating today. Speculations that have become… well, reality."

He paused, letting the weight of his words sink in. You could hear the collective intake of breath from the crowd.

“Lewis Hamilton is joining Scuderia Ferrari for the 2025 season.” A triumphant glint briefly played in his eyes, but before anyone could respond the team principle continued “But, that’s not for another year. In 2024 we have Charles here and Carlos, who have given us amazing years”

The hall erupted in a cacophony of comments and stunned silence. You felt the floor tilt beneath your feet. Your heart hammered against your ribs, a frantic drum solo threatening to burst out of your chest. Lewis Hamilton at Ferrari. Your secret, your shame, was about to collide spectacularly with your professional life. You were frozen, a lone island of stillness amidst the storm.

The conversations faded into a distant hum. You gripped the edge of a chair, trying to anchor yourself amidst the emotional turmoil. You had hidden that night from everyone, from yourself even. And now you would have to possibly work alongside him.

The desert sun beat down on the Losail International Circuit in Qatar, baking the asphalt and testing the limits of both man and machine. For you, it was the third day of your first official trackside deployment with Ferrari, and a whirlwind of emotions churned within you. The initial media frenzy surrounding Lewis' arrival had subsided, replaced by the usual pre-season buzz: championship predictions, car evaluations, and the ever-present debate about the second-fastest team.

You'd managed to navigate the past two days with a semblance of normalcy. Charles appreciated your input during pit stops and strategy discussions, and Fred's reassuring pat on the back after a successful test session confirmed he hadn't made the wrong choice in calling you in. Yet, a constant undercurrent of tension ran beneath the surface. The ghost of Abu Dhabi loomed large every time you passed the Mercedes garage.

On the morning of the third day, an urge for a pre-dawn run propelled you out of bed and straight to the hotel gym. As you hopped onto a treadmill, lost in the rhythm of your steps, a familiar voice jolted you back to reality.

"Well. Look who it is." There he was, Lewis Hamilton, a smirk playing on his lips. He looked effortlessly cool in a sleek tracksuit, his dark braids damp from a workout. Your heart stuttered in your chest.

"Uh, hi." you stammered, desperately trying to appear nonchalant. You cranked up the treadmill's speed, hoping to appear absorbed in your workout.

Lewis chuckled, amusement dancing in his eyes. Briefly, he lingered by the treadmill before heading out, leaving you feeling exposed and flustered.

The rest of the day unfolded in a blur of data analysis and strategy meetings. By the time everyone else had left, you found yourself volunteering to stay back and finalize some reports. The solitude, however, was short-lived. As you gathered your belongings, a shadowy figure emerged from the darkness of the paddock.

"Still here, I see?" Lewis' voice sent shivers down your spine.

He motioned towards a secluded corner of the pitlane, and you hesitantly followed.

"Glad to see you're part of Ferrari. You failed to mention that" he began, his tone casual.

Feigning ignorance, you played along. "I don't think we've met." A single eyebrow of his arched up in a silent challenge.

"Babe," he drawled, his voice laced with amusement, "I've kissed every inch of your skin that night. We've been introduced alright."

Your cheeks burned crimson. His laughter did little to ease your mortification.

"You left pretty early the next morning," he continued, a hint of curiosity in his voice. "Didn't even leave a message. Quite the enigma" He reached into his pocket; his phone poised. "How about we change that?"

Panic surged through you as his intentions became clear. Just as you were about to stammer a response, he intervened with a disarming smile

“Relax” he reassured, his tone softening. “What happened between us was a one-off thing, if you want it to be just that. But, since we’re gonna work together next year we could find ways, I get you’d want discretion though. I won’t deny it, I had fun that night”

Just as you looked at him deciding if you bought into his sudden innocence, a voice cut through the tension.

"Y/n? Are you still here?" It was Marco, a data analyst from your department, Lewis’ face etched with confusion. Seizing the opportunity, you called out, "Yeah! Just finishing up here! Coming!"

With a fleeting glance at Lewis, who seemed momentarily taken aback, you practically sprinted towards your colleague, your heart pounding a frantic escape rhythm.

You couldn't allow yourself to be alone with Lewis, not after that. Not when the truth could come spilling out like a dam bursting. Not when he was offering you something you didn’t even know could be within your reach, something you had never even thought of being a possibility.

With each step away from the empty paddock, you faced a choice: to embrace the unknown allure Lewis offered or to just forget that anything had ever happened. The impending collision of your professional and personal worlds loomed large, leaving you to wonder: would Lewis Hamilton be worth having your world come crashing down?

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TAGLIST - @saturnssunflower @xoscar03 @chocolatediplomatdreamerzonk @happy-golden-hour @vicurious28

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[marlynnofmany]

Fun and Dangers with Hovercycles

When the spaceship is grounded for a mechanical checkup that most of the crew helps with, but your knowledge of alien tech is limited to “That button means go, right?” then there’s not much to do. I’d been stuck with cleaning duty on other similar overhauls, which was fair enough. But it sucked. So I was delighted today to find that Mur was giving the hovercycle a once-over in the cargo bay, and didn’t mind letting me help.

“Is it hard to ride?” I asked while he shone a flashlight into the fuel tank, standing on the tips of his tentacles to get a good look. “I’ve never actually gotten to.”

“I wouldn’t say so,” he replied. “The balancing function is top-notch, and the brakes are reliable.”

Paint sorted through the toolbox, organizing wrenches and whatever. “It’s a little high off the ground for my taste.” She craned her lizardy neck to look up at me. “But that may not bother you.”

“Probably not,” I said with a smile. “Can I try it? There’s never been a good chance before. It’s always in storage unless we need it for some rush delivery on the far side of a space station.”

Mur sighed and clicked off the light. “Yeah, and that’s usually my job these days. Mimi is a great rider, but he’s usually busy, and Coals is respectable but doesn’t like to…”

“I don’t like to either!” Paint exclaimed, holding a scaly hand to her chest. “He always has a better excuse!”

“Why don’t you like to?” I asked.

“Too fast, dangerous.” Paint shook her head. “I don’t like the pressure of urgent deliveries when a minor distraction could leave me and the package smeared across the scenery.”

“Okay, fair,” I said.

“It’s not that dangerous,” Mur said. “It won’t tip over, and the brakes have an impact sensor.”

“It feels that dangerous!” Paint insisted, lashing her tail and looking away.

I said, “I guess you can’t really drive slower without being late, huh?”

“Oh, some deliveries have plenty of time. But it’s still too high off the ground.”

“Can I try?” I asked again. “It really doesn’t sound that scary to me.”

“Sure, why not.” Mur tightened the fuel cap and consulted the checklist. “We’re almost done here.”

The rest of the checklist was quick. I helped by holding things and occasionally reaching with my long human arms, while Paint was in charge of the toolbox and unscrewing things with her claws.

“Annnd done!” Mur said as he finished the checklist with a flourish. “Let’s take it outside where you won’t crash into a wall.”

“I thought you said there were impact sensors for that,” I reminded him as he clambered into the seat.

“Eh, they’re not perfect.”

Paint hit the controls for the bay door, toolbox already set aside, and I followed as the hovercycle whirred quietly out onto the alien landing pad.

I reflected that this really was an ideal place to practice riding. Only a couple other ships were parked at the moment, some distance away, and the settlement was set far enough back that people wouldn’t be bothered by the noise and whatnot of landing spaceships. Everything else around us was dry, rolling ground, with hills in the distance and not so much as a cactus to dodge around.

“You twist this to go forward,” Mur said. “Turn it the other way for backward, or just a little to slow down. It’s pretty intuitive once you’re moving.”

“Just don’t twist it too far!” Paint said. “It can go really fast!”

“Right, I’ll be careful,” I said. “Do I steer by leaning or turning the handlebars?”

Mur gave me a few more pointers on the basics, with Paint adding cautionary tips, and soon enough they let me get on. It wasn’t really human-shaped like an Earth bike, but it was close.

“Okay, so I’ll just aim to go over that way, then circle back,” I said. “This way for forward, this way for backward?”

“Right,” Mur said, tentacle-walking up onto the ramp.

“Start gently!” Paint said as she scampered up beside him.

“Got it.” The motor was already on and burbling away, so I held on tight and gave the throttle a minuscule twist. The bike scooted forward.

With Mur and Paint offering encouragement behind me, I eased it out across the smooth ground with no trouble, giving a couple experimental leans to get a feel for the auto-balancing mechanism. It really was good. Then I sped up a little, and was honestly impressed with the stabilizing gyros or whatever. Even on sharp turns, I didn���t feel like I was in danger of being thrown off or skidding out of control, which was pretty great. I still had a traumatizing memory of bike-riding as a kid and running over a tin can that slid out from under me. But there would be no scraped-up arms today! This hoverbike knew what it was doing. I gave it some proper speed.

I zoomed over a couple low hills, laughing at the change in pitch while the hover engines adjusted to catching air. I spun in tight circles and a gradual curve, leaving a faint trail of dust behind me where the wind of my passing had kicked it up.

Then I got a look back at my coworkers on the ship’s ramp, and they were waving their hands urgently. I straightened out and looked around in alarm; was some local beastie or natural disaster right behind me?

Nope. Not unless it was invisible. Which I wasn’t ruling out.

I powered back toward the ship, worried now, and braked to a stop that felt pretty darn perfect for my first time out.

“ARE YOU OKAY?” Paint yelled, rushing over.

“Yeah, why?” I looked behind myself again.

“Wait, you weren’t out of control?” Mur demanded. “You were going that fast on purpose?”

“Uh, yeah? Should I not have?” I took in their worried faces. “It felt pretty safe. You’re right about the balance; that’s great.”

“WHAT?” Paint exclaimed while Mur laughed. “Why would you go that fast on purpose?”

“It’s fun?” I asked, shrugging. “I really didn’t think it was that big a deal. Do neither of you like going fast ever? I mean I can understand not wanting to worry about getting an urgent delivery there on time, but what about casual joyriding?”

The way Paint was sputtering for an answer and Mur wasn’t even trying to come up with one told me I’d stumbled into another unexpected bit of culture clash.

Paint finally settled on, “No, that is terrifying!”

Mur straightened up from where he’d collapsed into a puddle of tentacles and helpless laughter. “I’ve been doing all the time-crunch bike deliveries because I can hold on best! You’re doing the next one.”

“Okay,” I said, smiling a bit myself. “You know I thought you were trying to tell me there was something chasing me, right?”

Paint covered her eyes. “I can’t believe you flew over that big hill deliberately.”

“Oh, that was great!” I said. “I want to do that again. Can I?”

Paint spun to walk back up the ramp. “Have fun! I’ll tell whoever’s in the cockpit not to call for bandages unless you ask.”

Mur told her, “You should probably tell the captain about the roster change too.”

“On it!”

“Thanks,” I said. When Mur waved me forward, I zoomed back out into the desert for more joyriding. It really was fun. I made sure not to do anything reckless like standing up during a jump, as much as I wanted to. The crew in the cockpit was probably worried enough already.

I looked forward to the next urgent delivery, though.

~~~

The ongoing backstory adventures of the main character from this book. More to come! And I am currently drafting a sequel!

[veritasangel]

i think childhood bestfriend atsumu is so sweet <3

⋆ ˚｡⋆ fempov (reader wears a dress) ୨୧˚ warnings: none

wc: 934

“You look handsome like this.” You say softly as you finish adjusting his tie, flattening his suit, your hand resting on his arm a little longer than usual.

It wasn’t like you hadn’t complimented each other before but something about this moment felt different. 

You clear your throat as you pull away and he so badly wants to pull you back in.

“Don’t I always?” He jokes, a pink blush dusting his cheeks, giving away his true feelings as he nervously clears his throat too, hand fiddling with the crumpled speech in his pocket.

“Can’t believe ‘samu’s getting married.” You say, changing the subject as you lean against his old dresser the one that he'd broken when he was 12 but never told his mum out of fear of the lecture he would receive.

He lets out a small laugh under his breath, “Oh I absolutely can, it's not like he’s been going on about it for months.”

You laugh too as you look around his childhood bedroom, a place you'd been in many times when growing up, “Well I’m just happy that he is, he deserves it."

“Didn’t both our parents always joke that out of the three of us, you’d be the first to marry?” Atsumu adds, brows furrowing as he thinks back to that overheard conversation.

“And look how that turned out, they jinxed me.”

“Pretty sure that’s on you for dating absolute dicks.”

“Hey!” you look at him in mock offence as you give his chest a playful nudge, “Come on, they weren’t all bad.”

“Yeah, name me one who treated you the way you deserved.” he crosses his arms as he joins you in leaning against the dresser, discreetly admiring how beautiful you look when the sun dances across your face.

“Weellll there was this brief thing with a guy called Atsumu Miya, don’t know if you know him.”

He laughs, shaking his head, “No way- We were 15, it doesn’t count.”

“Well I count it.” 

Your eyes meet his and you can see the cogs whirring about in his head, but for once in your life, you have no clue what it is he's thinking.

“You can’t seriously tell me that at your age, the only good boyfriend you had was a lousy few months of messing around with me.” He blurts out, and it would've offended you had it come out of anyone else's mouth, but his.

“Just shows you the extent of my dating life, huh?” you lightly scoff as you brush some lint off his shoulder.

“Maybe you should give me a rerun.”

“A what?”

“You know, if me back then was the best your dating life’s ever had well...this version of me now is a thousand times better already." He says.

“Oh yeah, how’s that?” You can't help but smirk as he leans down closer to you, dangerously close for your poor heart.

“Well I look more handsome than ever, I'm an amazing pro volleyball player with the build to prove it...Money to spoil you with-" A smug grin crosses his face, "Experience…I actually know what I'm doing now.”

You roll your eyes in jest, “You’re funny-”

“I’m not joking.” he cuts you off and you can see in his face that he means it.

“I know I fuck around a lot, but why not, huh?" He swallows, adam's apple bobbing as he does so. "My dating life’s not been great, neither has yours. And let’s not act like there’s nothing between us…You know it, I know it, our families know it, everyone fucking knows it.”  

“'tsumu-”

“Come on, aren’t we just wasting time here? Why not give us a proper chance? The worst that happens is it doesn’t work and we stay friends- Best case? Maybe one day, that bridesmaid dress you’re wearing will be a wedding dress.”

“I think that sounds like a nightmare, imagine your constant snoring.” you joke half-heartedly, trying to hide how that sentence really makes you feel.

“And that’s how I know you don’t hate the idea- because snoring? That's my worst flaw?” He teases, his nose brushing against yours as you look up at him.

“Shut up, it was just the first thing that came to mind.” you mumble, inwardly cursing yourself for your nervousness. Nervousness that should not occur around him.

He cups your face, gently caressing your cheek, “Tell me you’re not tempted to try.” he whispers.

A moment passes before you whisper back, “I’m a little tempted..” 

“A little? Think I can work with that.” he smiles and before you can take back your words, he leans in fully, his lips finding yours and you can't help but instantly give in, melting under his touch as you kiss him back slowly, one hand around the back of your neck as he pulls you in closer.

The kiss is sweet, slow, unrushed as if he's savouring every second. The two of you pull back, giddy smiles on both of your faces as he rests his forehead against yours,

“You’re my best friend, you know that?” he says softly as he closes his eyes momentarily.

“And you’re mine.” you respond with as much care in your words as in his.

He takes a breath as he straightens back up, smoothing down the part of your dress that he'd creased during the moment.

“We should head out to everyone before we get distracted and miss the ceremony.” he winks, his usual confident tone returning. “If you could catch the bouquet at the reception too that’d be really great...no pressure.” he teases with a sweet smile.

༄ hq m.list ༄ reblogs are appreciated if you like it.

© veritasangel ↣ 𝘥𝘰 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘤𝘰𝘱𝘺 𝘢𝘯𝘺 𝘰𝘧 𝘮𝘺 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘬𝘴

[ellecdc]

I went to get my teeth checked today and kept on thinking abt how Lily would be a great dentist. Gentle hands, nonjudgmental, would be so accommodating to any requests or requirements you have like noise cancelling headphones or something…. And she would be soooo against the trend of recommending treatment purely based on cosmetics rather than need. Like we have doctor Remus how about dentist Lily 😂😂

you know what? this was so cute that I had to write it - also, the conversations between reader and Lily are real-life conversations I've had with dental hygienists so be nice to me, I'm still recovering hahhaah

dentist!Lily Evans x reader who goes for a routine checkup

CW: written with a fem!reader in mind and references to a medieval woman accused of witchcraft but should be gender neutral/no pronouns used otherwise, reader has a brother for plot purposes, reader had braces growing up for plot purposes, reader has a bar on the back of their teeth for plot purposes, also.....reader doesn't floss DON'T JUDGE

You were lying back on the large vinyl-covered dentist chair pondering what exactly it was about dentists that caused so many people anxiety.

This was obviously a distraction, though, as wondering why dentists were so fear-inducing was far more comfortable than thinking about how anxious you felt right now.

You supposed that as a species, humans were wholly dependent on their mouths; it was how they ate, how they emote, a method of air intake, and also how they communicate. For hunter-gatherers, an injury to one's mouth could very well have led to dire consequences.

Of course, something happening to one's mouth wouldn’t necessarily leave them completely helpless in today's day in age with modern medicine.

And though you may not have been a hunter-gatherer, you were also decidedly not a medieval woman accused of witchcraft awaiting your trial by ordeal. But the longer it took Dr. Evans to join you - leaving you ample time to consider the various torture looking devices while reclined on this chair that looked like it could sprout restraints at any moment - the more you began to feel an awful lot like a medieval woman accused of witchcraft awaiting her trial by ordeal. 

The sound of the door clicking shut interrupted your spiralling as you tried to sit up straighter in your chair only to slide back down to your original position. 

But perhaps this wasn’t your trial by ordeal; perhaps they’d already gone ahead and executed you and you were actually sitting in heaven’s dentist office because surely the beautiful woman adorned in scrubs standing before you with long, thick red hair which had been artfully plaited away from her face was an angel? 

You realised belatedly that you’d been sitting there with your mouth agape staring at her instead of confirming your name for her.

“Yes! Yes, erm, sorry.”

But the angel - Dr. Evan’s, she introduced herself as but insisted you just call her Lily - simply waved you off and pulled a stool over to sit beside you. 

“No need to be sorry! Between the constant whirring of machines and my penchant to speak a mile a minute, it can be hard to keep up sometimes. So! You’re here for a routine cleaning?”

You nodded dumbly at her as she pulled a surgical mask up over her mouth and nose, mesmerised by the way it seemed to accentuate the brilliant green of her eyes which only appeared even greener when she smiled at you.

“Alright, well let’s take a peek at what we’re working with here, shall we?” She asked as she encouraged you to lay back after putting a bib on you like some nappy-wearing child.

Oh god; you didn’t know an angel was going to be looking in your mouth! You were expecting some grey-haired bored doctor with a superiority complex; now an angel will know you don’t floss!

“Wait!” You shouted abruptly, startling the angel doctor and encouraging her to put some space between you, though she schooled her expression very quickly. “Okay, listen, I’m sorry. But you see, I had braces as a kid, and they put these bars behind my teeth! You know, to keep them from shifting? And they’re great - so great, no complaints truly; they’ve done their job, see!” You paused to bare your teeth at her like some socially awkward chimpanzee. “No shifting at all. But! But, you see, my teeth are so sodding close together now - again, totally fine! - but between that and the glue and the bar, it’s sodding impossible to floss. Oh shit I just said sodding to a doctor! Oh my god I just said shit! I’m sorry! I just don’t want you to think I’m some plebeian who doesn’t care about dental hygiene because I do! But I honest to god, hand to my heart walked around with a piece of floss stuck between my teeth for three days after I tried last so I just...sorry…”

You fought to catch your breath and it took you possibly too long to realise the angel doctor Lily was laughing at you; the mask impeded the smile but the crinkles in the corners of her emerald eyes and the gentle shaking of her shoulders gave her away. 

“I’m so sorry, I honestly thought you were about to tell me you were going to throw up on me - which would be fine! Worse things have happened quite frankly.” She chuckled as she seemed to relax back into her stool. “Why don’t we take a look?”

Burning with embarrassment, you did as you were told and opened your mouth immediately, wondering if it was at all possible for her to feel your jack-hammer pulse through the barely there fingertips pressed to your jaw as she peered into your mouth. 

“Well honestly, there doesn’t seem to be a lot of build up anyway! I wouldn’t have known you’d not been flossing.”

“Wait, really?” You asked then, causing her to move her gaze from your mouth to your eyes. 

“There’s a little bit of plaque but nothing out of the ordinary! Basically what I would expect to see from someone coming in for a routine check up.” She confirmed before taking one of her torture devices (a dental scraper) to your teeth as you watched her auburn brows cinch closer together. “Your teeth really are close together.” She murmured mostly to herself.

“I wasn’t lying.” You defended quickly, earning you a bright and bubbly laugh from the doctor. 

“Sorry; force of habit. I hear a lot of ‘I absolutely brush my teeth twice a day’ and ‘I floss regularly’ when I can easily see that neither of those things are true.”

After she had explained what she was going to do, you spent the better part of the appointment with her fingers shoved into your mouth. 

“I do not envy your orthodontist; you have a very small mouth.”

You snorted inelegantly at that as she removed her hands from your face. “My brother would disagree.”

You were rewarded with another tinkering laugh as she inspected her cleaning. “Don’t worry about the flossing hun; I’d rather you come in and have me do a cleaning for you than to hurt yourself or damage your teeth trying to floss.”

“I’m not in trouble?”

“Even if I did have the authority to scold you, you would not be in trouble. But I hope to see you in another six to twelve months for another cleaning!” She said as she walked backwards from the room with one last (now maskless) smile in your direction.

Suddenly, dentists didn’t seem so scary, and you found yourself rather looking forward to your next appointment.

[loneliestluvr]

Hi! I just had an idea about how Lucien and Reader would go out on their first date since their baby's birth, and like they hire a babysitter for the evening. And like Lucien and Reader (mostly Lucien tough) would be soooo anxious and missing their child. Like it would take everything in them to control themselves and just enjoy their date. I would love it if you could make a fic about that 🥲💕 If not, thanks anyway for just taking the time to read it. (Oh! And maybe their child could be a girl? I totally imagine Lucien as a girl dad.)

Hope you have a great day!

the hardest thing.

pairing: lucien vanserra x reader

synopsis: after letting feyre and rhys convince you to go out with them for the first time since your daughters birth, lucien is feeling a bit anxious about having to leave her.

warnings: birth-ish, breastfeeding(brief mention), leaving your newborn for the first time, anxiety, a bit of angst and fluff.

word count: 1.5k

taryn thinks: this request was honestly so cute to write and i so see lucien acting like this. sigh, girl dad lucien. and i know you said ‘go on a date’, so i’m leaving it if people want to see that. i would gladly figure out a part 2 of this with the actual date i just had this part of the idea in my head immediately and needed to write it out as soon as i got your request. that’s it. much love, t 🥹💕

“Do you think she’ll be scared?”

You and Lucien had not left your daughter in nearly three months. You didn’t want to. Didn’t have a need to. The little spitfire who’d inherited her fathers coppery tuft of hair claimed all of your attention at all hours of day and neither you nor Lucien minded one bit. It was you three against the world it felt like.

After having a baby, the bond had only grown between you and Lucien. You only really ever needed each other, and your daughter of course. Your Lucelia, named after her father as a token of love for your mate. He’d wanted you to pick the name since it was a female and he’d been convinced she would look exactly like you.

How wrong he was. You took one glance at that screaming babe, tears welled in your eyes, her eyes, and Lucien’s— you just knew. That curly red hair, her golden eyes like his with a ring of green around the iris like yours and the tanner skin— she was undeniably his. The indications only grew with time.

Lucien had said ‘Thank you’ and kissed your sweat slick forehead, stroking your hair while you both cried as they placed your daughter onto your bare chest. He’d said it what felt like over a thousand times that day, and continues to do so.

Looking at your mate, the love of your life, your eyes softened. He was standing in your daughter's nursery, holding her tiny body in his arms. Shirtless, pressing his skin to hers, tracing the side of her face with his nose, etching it into memory. His hair tied back and out of the way as if he hadn’t wanted it to tickle her. You could tell he was worried just by the soft clicking that filled the room as his eye whirred.

He must have heard you coming, having woken in the midst of the night to come feed Lucelia and realized your husband was not in his rightful place next to you in bed. The mattress cold.

“Love,” You say quietly, almost a whisper on the wind that flows through the cracked window of the room. “—what has you so worried?”

“Everything.” His word is simple, but it’s his tone that tells you everything you need to know about the meticulous list going in his head. And the continuous mechanical ticking your daughter had grown accustomed to, of course. You step into the room, careful not to creak the door too loudly even though you were here to wake her anyway.

“Tell me.” You say softly, reaching your hands out to take her from him. His reluctance to let her go is endearing as he looks to you pleadingly. You only smile, tire laced in your own face and you can see as his eye dilates in the soft light of the moon before handing her over and kissing your forehead.

Cradling your daughter in one arm, you tickle her belly softly with the other, slowly swaying about the room to rock her awake. You hear his deep sigh before you turn to look up at him, his arms crossed and mouth pressed against his closed fist. The muscles in his arm straining as he watches you and you know he doesn’t want to say anything just by that look he’s giving you.

“Lucien Vanserra,” You start, sternly. Or as stern as you can manage this late in the night and as tired as you were. “—we don’t keep secrets. Talk to me, my sun.” Your voice only grows softer as you speak. Sitting in the rocking chair, shrugging off the shoulder of your robe, your babe stirs in your arms. Lucien tenses, immediately moving to try and comfort her as she starts to cry but with a soft,

“It’s alright sweetheart, mommy’s with you.” You say soothingly, her cries die out and she latches, starting to feed. “Daddy’s here too, my flower.” Smiling down at her before flicking your eyes up to meet his. “I know you know that. He’s a worrier, huh?” You whisper, but the only answer is Lucien’s scoff.

“I’m worried she’ll hate us for leaving her.”

“Lucien, we are not leaving her.” You try not to laugh, really. Seeing him so torn up honestly makes you regret letting Feyre and Rhys convince you to go on a double date. A parent double date, as Feyre had said. She, who did most of the convincing, had said it could be good to get out of the house. That if you just push through the first time, everything after will come easier. To give yourself a break.

“She’s wrong.” He says, pulling out the foot stool in front of you to sit. “I don’t need a break, nor do I want one.” His brows are furrowed as you look at him and you only hold your hand out to him. He takes it immediately.

“I know, love.”

“She’s known only us for the past three months, Y/n.” He’s pulling your hand to his mouth, peppering your knuckles with kisses to soothe himself. “And I’m sorry to say it, truly, but leaving her with your sister does not give me much faith.”

“My sister is my best friend, Lucien. I promise I wouldn’t let just anyone take care of her.” You sigh before smiling humorously at yourself, your own thoughts. “Would you rather Eris?”

He glares up at you as he presses your palm to his cheek.

“My brother wouldn’t know what to do with a babe.” He mumbles.

“She will be okay,” You cup his cheek yourself and when his eyes move to the floor you force him to look at you. “—she will.”

You both are quiet for a long time, just sitting together as a little family. He eventually pulls one of your legs up and into his lap to slowly start working the muscles. You don’t mind, you know touch is one of the ways he comforts himself. The way he cares for others, too. And you certainly don’t hide the fact that you’re watching the way the muscles of his arms and chest move.

You were so going to be having another babe soon.

Lucien catches you mid thought, your scent dragging over to him and he looks up at you. Your raised brow, bottom lip tugged between your teeth as you watch him. Lucelia had finished feeding a few minutes ago, but you didn’t say anything when you fixed yourself and adjusted her over your shoulder to burp her.

No, he had been so lost in thought that he didn’t see or hear you moving. So worried about how his heart would feel when he was apart from your daughter. Anticipating the panic that would be coursing through him, how close he would need to be to you when the two of you went out, just so he could keep her scent—your scent—in every breath. Maybe he could psych himself out of it, trick his brain into thinking that because your scents were near identical, you were both there.

A small smile tugs at his lips and he rolls his eyes, gently releasing your leg back to the floor. A blush staining his cheeks as he stood and moved the stool silently, brushing a hand down his face before reaching out for your daughter.

You let him take her, his large hands immediately cradling her against his chest and something in his face calms as he murmurs ‘my beautiful flower’.

He was weak when it came to her, weaker than you’d ever thought he’d be. You thought that it was you who would be worse, giving into her every cry and sniffle. The one sneaking off to hold her and kiss her cheeks, staying up just watching her. Maybe it was the exhaustion your body had been in constantly, but it was him who did all those things. You wouldn’t have it any other way.

He still hadn’t let any male’s hold her until she was a month old, and it was Eris then. He had still watched like a hawk and you were certain that the reason his brother had only lasted a few minutes with her in his arms was because of the way Lucien was damn near growling.

But he had still let him, and you said that even that was a big step. Leaving her, even for a little bit, was monumental.

“It’s only one or two hours, right?” Lucien asks in the dead of quiet, his gaze sliding to you.

“Mhm.” You smile, finally standing as you walk over to him with a yawn and wrap your arms halfheartedly around him. Cradling her with one arm, he rests his free hand on the small of your back. “She’ll be okay.” You nod, his thumb stroking your skin through your robe as he kisses your temple. “We’ll all be okay.”

[raaorqtpbpdy]

Much to Learn

Maddie has Phantom cornered. He's not getting away from her this time.

{Irma} Maddie overhears something she shouldn't, and it makes her rethink everything (reveal gone right) [ghost]

Read also on AO3

[Warning for mentions of violence/dissection]

She had him. Maddie had that spook cornered, and there was no way he could escape, at least not without being seen. Jack was covering the other exit, but she knew she had him. Phantom was hers. 

"That was too close," she heard Phantom's voice around the corner.

He had no idea, she thought, raising her ecto-gun, ready to take him down.

"No kidding," a girl's voice replied.

Maddie froze. Was he talking to someone? Her voice sounded kind of familiar. Was she in danger.

"My parents almost had me that time," Phantom replied. "Thank the Ancients I gave them the slip, or it would have been hello scalpel."

"You got Klemper, right?" a boy's voice asked.

So Phantom had two captives... or... perhaps allies, the way they were talking. But what had he meant about his parents? Were they still alive?

"Asked him for his best soup impression," Phantom replied with a chuckle. "You know, I don't actually mind if they want to have fun and goof off, and it's great for them that they don't have to worry about consequences in the Ghost Zone, I just wish they could wrap their heads around the fact that here in the real world, people can still get badly hurt. Like, some of us are mortal, buddy."

"And Klemper plays pretty rough, so it's no wonder he doesn't have any friends," the girl replied.

"Yeah, no kidding," the other boy's voice agreed.

They didn't sound like captives, Maddie determined. They definitely didn't sound like ghosts, either.

"Alright, if my parents had followed me, I'm sure they would've burst in guns blazing by now," Phantom said. "I think I'm in the clear."

There was a flash of light and a sort of whirring sound.

The next voice Maddie heard wasn't Phantom's... it was Danny's.

"Guess I'm not gonna get dissected tonight," he said, like it was some kind of big accomplishment. "Good thing, too because I have a huge English assignment due soon that I haven't even started on. I definitely don't have time for my parents to cut me open."

"You sound awful cheery," the girl noted, and suddenly, Maddie could place the voice. It was Danny's friend Sam.

"Well, you know, you gotta celebrate the small victories, right?" Danny replied. "That's what Jazz is always telling me, anyway."

"Morbid victories," scoffed the other boy—Tucker, she finally recognized.

When Maddie had cornered Phantom and his allies, she'd actually... or rather, she'd also cornered Danny and his friends. Because they were the same people.

Her son was Phantom.

Oh, god, what had she done?

"Come on, guys, let's get out of here," Danny said, and Maddie could hear him and his friends walking toward the door where she was lying in wait.

She wanted to run so she could have time to properly process her thoughts and the new information, but she was rooted to the spot, her brain racing at a mile a minute. Danny was a ghost? How? When? God, she had shot at him.

He was coming her way. He was almost to the door. She wanted to run, but she still couldn't move.

He walked through, and jumped when he saw her, back against the wall, ecto-gun still raised and in-hand.

"Mom," he said, sounding mildly alarmed. "Uh... how long have you been standing there?"

"You're Phantom," she said. The words just spilled from her lips, and she was helpless to stop them.

She didn't miss the way Danny's muscles all tensed up at once and he eyed the gun still in her hand.

"What?" he asked.

Her eyes widened and she dropped her ecto-gun to the floor as if it had bitten her. Oh god, he was afraid of her. Her own son was afraid of her. What kind of mother had she been? What had she been doing?

She threw herself at him, and wrapped him up in a hug. "Oh, Danny, I'm so sorry!"

"Uh...." She could feel the hesitation in his movements as he hugged her back, and it brought tears to her eyes. "It's... it's okay, Mom. You didn't know."

"No, I didn't know, but it's not okay," she insisted. "Ignorance is never an excuse. I tried to hurt you!"

"But you didn't," he said. "Mom, I'm fine. It's okay. I forgive you."

"I've been a fool," she said, reluctantly pulling away from the hug so she could look him in the eye and cup the side of his face, gently, like a mother should. "I only heard a minute of conversation, but it's obvious you know about ghost. You probably—no, you definitely know more than I do. Maybe you can fill in some of the gaps in our research."

"If it means you won't have to dissect anybody, I'd be happy to help."

Maddie cringed, but once she got past the barb, it sounded nice. A little mother-son scientific research and bonding was just what she needed to get to know her son again. He'd been so distant lately, and now... well, now she knew why. And now that she knew, she could start to pull him closer again, learn the kind of man he was growing into when he wasn't too busy avoiding her.

"That sounds wonderful, Danny," she said. "I'm sure I have so much to learn."

[innocent-cat]

Don’t know if you’ve done this one yet but it’d be AMAZING to read an enemies to lovers story about Percy<3

Great stories btw!! Love them all💖💗💝

Awww thank you!! sorry it took so long to get your work out.

Percival de Rolo x Reader (oneshot)

Warnings - mentions of death

"Burn in hell(But not really).", Percy x reader

.·:*¨༺༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺༻

You dart up from your pillow, your hair whipping behind you. The curtains behind you sing a song as they slip between the wafts of wind from the dark, cold, harsh night. Holding yourself lightly, you attempt to ground yourself.

"Its okay. It was just a dream. Pike, Keyleth, Vex, Vax, Scanlan, Grog and Percy are all okay. They're fine." You whisper to yourself, trying to reassure your own mind everything was going to be all okay, but your mind never settled.

You decided you would prove to yourself that they were all in fact okay. Alive, well, and hopefully thriving in this environment.

You rise from your silk sheets, moving the puffy white blanket off of your body, scooting off your bed. Your feet hit the hard and cold stone floor, you shiver, but find reassurance in the fact that you know you are awake.

You tip toe out of your room, your feet cracking and freeing air as you did so. The sound of your footsteps were not heard as you creaked your wooden door open, and started down the hall.

Keyleth and Vex, Vax and Scanlan, Grog and Pike, and Percy.

That was the room pairings. Percy and you never got along, so everyone decided that it was best neither of you shared a room. Even if you found his antics and smart wordings annoying, you still feared for his safety. He was part of your family.

You slowly opened the door to Keyleth and Vex's room. Two lumps on the opposite beds gave you a welcoming smile and knowing knowledge that your friends were in fact okay.

You continued down the hall to the next door, only needing to hear the snores of Vax and sleep talking of Scanlan to know the two boys were safe and sound. You couldn't help but let out a small giggle to the fact that they were so loud in their sleep. How has everyone even been sleeping all this time?

Continuing forward down the hall, you reach Pike and Grog's room. Instead of calmness, you hear giggling. Both Pike and Grog were letting out small, suppressed giggles about who knows what. Their laughter was enough for you as well.

Rubbing your cold, goose bumped arms, you continue down the hall to Percy's room. You heard no tools whirring, no tossing and turning, no sleep talking from his room. Maybe he finally found peace in his dreams in exchange for your fright.

You slowly creaked open the door, knowing your lie to yourself about him sleeping wouldn't be enough. You see no lump so you walk closer to the bed, only to find no Percy at all.

You couldn't help but feel your nightmare rush back to you. The feeling and knowing of his death floods you as your eyes begin to blur with tears and strain with red.

You hold yourself tightly, rubbing your arms, comforting yourself, speaking about how he was smart enough than to get himself into a situation where he was punished for his mistakes.

You walk out of his room, when you bump into someone. You flinch, and back up, looking upwards to the tall figure.

"What in Everlight's word are you doing in my room?" Percy snarls at you, looking down. His expression softens when his eyes meet your frightened and hurt gaze.

You can't help but embrace the man who you thought was dead when you see him. Your arms wrap tightly, but not too tight, around him and under his arms. You tuck your face into his chest, shaking, and quivering, slurring words about how you're sorry, and how you would never want him dead.

Percy, confused, wraps his arms around you, embracing you. He takes his left, more metallic hand, caresses your head and you welcome the feeling of cold to your hot, burning face.

Despite not having a clue on what you're saying, or why you're in his room, he understands that for some reason, you, the person who told him to go to hell the first day you two met each other, is crying about his death which hasn't happened yet.

Eventually, when you catch up on your breath, and your breathing is even, you keep hugging him. You continue to shake, but you hold him like the world will collapse and everything around you will implode and it'll all be your fault.

"Tell me, what's wrong?" Percy speaks softly to you, still petting your head slowly.

When you don't respond, he sighs. He feels as if he is comforting a toddler, but he mentally slaps himself for thinking that of you.

"How does some fresh air sound? Hm?" When he feels you slowly nod against his chest and pull apart, he smiles. He wraps his arm around your waist, holding you close and reassuring you that he's staying with you and won't leave anytime soon.

He leads you outside, the fresh and cold air softly hitting your tired eyes. The two of you sit down on a bench and look at the moon. He holds you close to him still, as you lean on him.

Your eyes stay peeled open, not wanting to let him leave you. If he were to leave you, he surely would have died.

"Do you want to talk about it, dear?" Percy's words danced off his tongue, slowly, like he was trying to catch an animal, afraid his loud words would scare it away.

"You died." You paused.

"Everyone died."

"And I didn't do anything. I stood there. It was all my fault. What if there really was a life or death situation, and I just froze? What if i just let you all die? I would have nobody, and I wouldn't be able to live with myself, Percy."

Percy thought for a moment. He thought and he thunk and he thinked. He traced his finger up and down your arm, comforting you as you ranted about how you felt guilty.

"We all know you wouldn't do that. We depend on you, darling. And we depend on you because we know you are capable."

Percy's words reassured you and calmed you more than the cold air ever could.

"Would you make sure nobody gets hurt, even if I freeze up?"

"Of course I would. I would die for you if you asked."

[shadowqueenjude]

“I risked my neck for you during your task. Was that not enough?” His metal eye whirred softly. “You offered up your name for me—after all that I said to you, all I did, you still offered up your name. Didn’t you realize I would help you after that? Oath or no oath?”

I really don't think everyone understands how significant a moment this was for the Feyre-Lucien relationship. Even if I don't agree with this take, there is an argument to be made that everything Lucien did for Feyre before was only for Tamlin. But the moment Feyre offered her name in exchange for his life? Lucien's loyalty wasn't just to Tamlin anymore; it was to her. That means saying, "TO YOUR LEFT!" taking the whipping, coming back to see how she's doing, all that? That was for Feyre, not Tamlin. This applies in ACOMAF too. Why do you think he told Feyre not to ask him to pick? Because his loyalty is to both now. Him pleading with Tamlin to let her train? For her. Him hiding the engagement ring? For her. Him seeking a way out of the Night Court bargain? For her. All of it. Him trying to bring her back from Night? FOR HER. Y'all forget nobody is supposed to know that the Night Court is not really "evil." “I did it for you, too, you know.” Cold, hard words. “I went with him to get you back.” Why do people ignore this and act like Lucien only cares about Tamlin? Bull fucking shit. He didn't TRUST Feyre in ACOWAR because he's smart and he knew she was up to something. Miss girl thought she was such a great actor but Lucien saw right through it.💀 And yeah OF COURSE Lucien was worried about Elain in ACOWAR. She's...his mate???? Y'all be fr and stop taking everything Feyre says at face value. “And that’s why you’re here. Not because it’s right and he’s always been wrong, but just so you can get what you think you’re owed.” Y'all think that Feyre is spitting facts or whatever? Did it ever occur to you that maybe, just maybe...she's an unreliable narrator? Lucien has never ONCE acted entitled to her and SJM made sure to have Lucien call out Feyre for being a hypocrite.

“You have the gall to question my priorities regarding Elain—yet what was your motive where I was concerned? Did you plan to spare me from your path of destruction because of any genuine friendship, or simply for fear of what it might do to her?”

And how did Feyre reply? “You would have been fine.” Were it not for Ianthe, a problem Feyre exasperated by her own admission, Ianthe wouldn't have even been a problem. She'd backed off of Lucien. I had done my job too well, provoked her jealousy too much with every instance I’d found ways to get Lucien to touch me in her presence, in Tamlin’s presence.

Using a victim like this is disgusting. DISGUSTING. The only thing Feyre ever did for Lucien and it was a problem that she caused in the first place. Oh yeah and then you take Lucien's words for fact too: “You are a better friend to me, Feyre,” he said quietly, “than I ever was to you.”

Yeah...fucking bullshit. Generally I'd call Lucien the most reliable narrator considering he's the smartest, but recalling this when Feyre went into his mind? Thoughts slammed into me, images and memories, a pattern of thinking and feeling that was old, and clever, and sad, so endlessly sad and guilt-ridden, hopeless—

I'd just say it's guilt that he wasn't able to do more talking. But he did everything he could without literally dying for Feyre. Or did you forget this? I didn’t want to know what was happening in that room, what he’d done to Lucien, what Lucien had even looked like to cause that pulse of power.

[fortheloveofwonderland]

Me & You & Everyone We Know | Chapter 7 | S.R

Not my gif

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A/N - sorry it has been so long since I updated this, I have not have the impetus to write this fic but I am trying to restart it. Massive thank you to @reidselle for encouraging me to start writing this again and for reading chapters and discussing ideas with me, you are an angel 🖤

Chapter Summary - Spencer’s still reeling from the aftermath of his drunken mistake. With Luke’s words playing on his mind, he starts to realise his feelings towards his broken marriage aren’t as black and white as he thought.

Pairing - Single Dad! Spencer Reid / Fem! Reader

Category - hurt/comfort, angst with happy ending, smut minors DNI.

Warnings - mentions of affairs, Spencer questions everything, swearing.

WC - 5.1k

Chapter 7 - All At Once

And all at once the crowd begins to sing,

Sometimes the hardest thing and the right thing are the same.

Maybe you want her, maybe you need her,

Maybe you started to compare to someone not there. 

The weekend's events had taken so much out of Spencer he didn’t have a chance to call you and apologise for his drunken behaviour. 

In fact, if he was perfectly honest, with everything else going on he’d completely pushed it to the back of his mind. 

On Sunday he spent the day at the mall with the girls in an attempt to cheer Daisy up. 

Spencer loathed shopping. He only went shopping when he absolutely had to. Malls were too busy for his liking and most things were overpriced. But Daisy and Lily loved to shop, mostly because it wasn’t their hard earned money they were spending. 

He spent the day traipsing after them, lugging bags full of their hauls around while they ran from shop to shop excitedly. 

He practically brought Daisy a whole new wardrobe while Lily damn near put the toy store out of business. 

They ate pretzels in the food court while Spencer rested his aching arms from being their designated bag carrier. 

Lily fell asleep on the car ride home surrounded by all her new toys while Daisy excitedly looked over her new clothes. 

He spent hundreds of dollars trying to make up for the way Maeve had hurt her. He even let the girls talk him into buying an even bigger, plusher and more expensive bed for a dog he hated who never slept in his own bed anyway. 

By the time they made it home he was exhausted. He was too tired to cook so he ordered pizza which they ate in the living room while they rewatched Encanto for what had to be the fiftieth time. 

When he put them to bed they were both singing We Don’t Talk About Bruno, which Spencer also had stuck in his head when he crawled into his own bed. 

He also found himself humming it absent-mindedly in the shower the next morning, mentally cursing his girls for making him sit through that movie again. 

It was still whirring its way around his brain while he made the girls breakfast. 

He drove them to school after breakfast and dropped Taco off at the kennel and it was only after he was finally alone, his thoughts fell back to his monumentally stupid drunken mistake. 

Checking his watch and seeing he had time before he had to be on campus he made a pit stop at the florists. 

It was a good job he had time to spare because he spent an unfathomable amount of time staring at a wide variety of flowers in various colours.

He must have looked utterly lost as a young girl soon came over and asked if he needed help. 

Yes, he most certainly did. 

“I uh…I need something that says I’m sorry.” He toyed awkwardly with the strap of his satchel. 

The girl gave him a slightly playful smile. 

“You wouldn’t believe how often we get people in here looking for the exact same thing.” 

“What would you recommend?” 

“Well, lilies are great for apologising as they can express a new chapter. But roses are really romantic. White orchids are also good as they represent sincerity. And blue hyacinths look stunning in an apology bouquet.” She motioned around the various flowers she was describing while Spencer stared wide eyed in confusion. 

“Uh…” he scratched the back of his neck. “All of them. Just put all of them in a bouquet. A huge one. It doesn’t matter what it costs.” 

“Sure.” She looked a little startled by his choice, most guys just went for whatever was cheapest. 

She admired his decision. 

Spencer tapped his foot in the ground while the girl went about fashioning a giant bouquet of whites and blues and reds and yellows. 

She tied them all off in a big red ribbon and looked proud by her creation. 

Admittedly it did look beautiful and Spencer knew next to nothing about flower arranging. 

He paid two hundred dollars for the privilege and thanked the young girl before hurrying out of the store barely able to see over the large array. 

He quickly stopped at a coffee house and ordered an extra large cinnamon latte which was your favourite. 

The flowers took up the whole front seat of the car and the smell was overwhelming so he had to drive with the windows open. 

He felt heads turning and eyebrows furrowed into frowns as he got out of his car with the huge bouquet. It was like a large flashing beacon that he’d fucked up. 

He tried to ignore all the eyes on him as he waited for you outside the psychology building, flowers in one hand, coffee in the other. 

The weather was desperately trying to warm up and was slowly succeeding and the morning sun beating down on him made sweat gather at his temples. 

The nerves didn’t help. 

You couldn’t have looked any less amused when you spotted him, only just able to see him over the almost comically large bunch of flowers. 

If he wasn’t standing right outside the building you needed access to, you would have walked any other direction to avoid him. 

You clenched your jaw tightly and hugged your purse close to your body as you approached him. 

“I’m sorry.” He spoke the second you were in earshot. “I am so, so sorry. I was drunk, not that that’s an excuse but I was. I had a bad day and I was a fucking idiot. I am so, so sorry Y/N.” 

You didn’t say anything. Not a word. Honestly you didn’t have anything to say that wouldn’t either be fuck you or go to hell. 

He proffered the flowers towards you. 

“I’m really, really sorry.” He pouted a little.

He did look apologetic, almost pathetically so and there was a part of you that felt sorry for him. 

Not a big enough part to forgive him though. 

You took the flowers from his hand and Spencer momentarily believed things were going to be ok. 

But then you dropped the bouquet on the floor and stamped heavily on them with your heeled boot.

You didn’t stop there. 

You took the coffee out of his hand, removed the lid and poured the scalding liquid all over the crushed pile of flowers.

Spencer’s face fell.

“Oh come on, that was two hundred dollars worth of flowers.” He groaned, shoulders slumping. 

“You think coffee and flowers are going to make up for what you did?” You spat at him. 

“Not entirely. But I thought it might be a start.” He shrugged meekly, toying with his satchel. 

“Well it isn’t.” You stomped on the flowers again. “You were a world class asshole, Spencer. You do not get to show up at my apartment drunk in the middle of night and try to force me into bed! And the things you said to me…I am not a fling. I am not looking to be a casual hook up and if that’s all you want then you should find someone else.” 

“Y/N, I didn’t mean for you to-“

“Go to hell, Doctor Reid.” You cut him off, stamping on the flowers one more time for good measure. “Respectfully, go to hell.” 

He watched you storm past him inside the building, knowing nothing he could say was going to make this better. 

He’d really fucked this one up. And he had no idea how to fix it.

***

He left a cinnamon latte for you every single day for the next week in Monroe’s classroom. 

He left post it notes on your car that told you how sorry he was. 

He tried at every available opportunity to tell you to your face how sorry he was but every time you caught a glimpse of him, you would turn and walk in the opposite direction. 

He didn’t blame you. But he wished you would give him a chance to explain. 

Not that there was much to explain. He was drunk and he’d been forceful. He’d said horrible things to you. 

An explanation wasn’t really warranted. 

But that didn’t mean he was going to give up. He wasn’t giving you up without a fight. 

It didn’t matter that the two of you had only been on one date, you were all he could think about. You’d left a lasting impression in his heart and he wasn’t letting you just walk away. 

But he knew he couldn’t keep pushing you. You had to want to talk to him. If he kept trying to force you forgive him, he would end up pushing you away. 

He had to give it time and hope that you would come to forgive him on your own. 

In lieu of making things up with you, he had made up with Luke, even if slightly begrudgingly. 

They’d talked on the phone for the best part of a whole evening after the girls were asleep. Luke apologised for the way things had come out. He hadn’t meant them quite as they sounded 

Spencer in turn apologised for reacting the way he had, even though he still felt he was completely justified. 

Luke surprised him somewhat when he asked him, “did you ever really deal with Maeve’s affair?” 

“What do you mean?” Spencer frowned, putting his feet up on his desk and leaning back in his chair. 

“When you talk about it, you always talk about the effect it had on your kids but never how it affected you.” Luke was in full on profiler mode. Spencer had heard that voice countless times. 

“The fact that it affected my kids, affected me.” Spencer’s frown deepened. 

“I know you say it was a marriage of convenience but you were together a long time, Reid. You must have had some kind of feelings for her. It must have hurt.” Luke’s tone was soft yet held a hind of accusation. 

“Not especially.” Spencer shrugged. 

“Spencer,” Luke’s timbre shifted. “The woman you spent a large portion of your life with cheated on you. Your house is still like a goddamn shrine to the life you used to have. And you’ve never gotten over your anger towards her. I think that’s because she hurt you more than you want to admit. You like to pretend you didn’t love her and that you’re unaffected by what happened because you think it’s easier to deal with if you pretend it doesn’t hurt. But sometimes, pain needs to be felt.” 

“Have you ever thought about being a therapist?” Spencer rolled his eyes and sat up in the chair. “I’m fine Luke. I’m angry because she tore my family apart. I’m angry because my kids now only get to see their mother twice a month. I’m angry because I had to reevaluate my whole life after she left. 

But I’m not hurt, I’m not heartbroken. And my house is not a shrine. I work and when I’m not working I’m taking care of my daughters and now some stupid dog too. I’ve been meaning to call Morgan to help me renovate it. I just haven’t had time.” 

“If you insist.” Luke sighed. “I won’t keep pushing it. But just know I’m here if you ever need to talk.” 

“I know. Thanks. But I really am fine.” Spencer stood up and stretched his back. “I’ll talk to you soon, yeah?”

“Yeah no worries. Talk soon.” Luke replied and then hung up. 

Spencer kept his phone in his hand and typed out a quick text to you, almost identical to the ones he’d sent you every night this week. 

📲 Y/N Y/L/N: I’m still so sorry. I miss you. Please talk to me. Goodnight, beautiful. 

He checked in on the girls who were both sleeping soundly before having a quick shower and crawling into his own bed. 

And once again, he dreamt of you. 

***

It was probably for the best that you weren’t talking to him and that he hadn’t made plans with you for his child free weekend because he didn’t get a child free weekend. 

He picked Lily and Daisy up from school on Friday and drove them to Maeve’s only for Daisy to refuse to get out of the car. 

“Pumpkin, it’s your weekend with your mom, you have to go.” Spencer turned in his seat to face her. 

“No.” She spoke stubbornly. “I don’t want to see her.”

“You can’t stay mad at her forever.” Spencer leaned over the centre console and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. 

“Yes I can.” She huffed. 

“Why don’t you want to see mommy?” Lily spoke up from the backseat. 

“Because I hate her.” Daisy stomped her foot on the floor. 

“Daisy, please don’t say that in front of your sister.” 

“Why? It’s true.” 

Spencer sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. 

“What about if Taco comes to mommy’s with you?” It would be doing him a favour too. 

“Yes! Let’s go get Taco!” Lily beamed. 

“No!” Daisy raised her voice. “I’m not going in there and you can’t make me!” 

She was right, he couldn’t. 

So in the end Lily had stayed at Maeve’s and Daisy had come home with Spencer. 

It was strange just having one of the girls, it wasn’t often the two were apart. It was almost like the days before Lily was born. 

He cooked dinner for the two of them and they ate ice cream for dessert. 

Daisy sat in Spencer’s office with him, laying on the floor with Taco while he graded papers. 

Usually Spencer liked to work alone, the kids rarely came in his office. But he found the sounds of Daisy cooing over the dog relaxing and every now and again when he heard her giggle over the mutt it made his heart swell in his chest. 

“Are you having fun there, pumpkin?” He asked her with an amused smile as he scrawled some notes on one of his students papers.

“Yeah, Taco is the best.” She giggled, giving Taco a belly scratch which he adored. “And it’s nice and quiet, like before Lily was born.” 

Spencer’s pen dropped from his hand as he looked at the back of his daughter's head where she laid on her front on the floor, her thick dark hair tied up on the back of her head. 

“What?” He frowned a little, thinking he must have misunderstood her. 

She rolled over onto her back and propped herself up on her one good arm. 

“I miss it sometimes. Before Lily was born and it was just you, me and mom. Did mom have an affair because of Lily?” She asked curiously. 

Spencer tried to hide his shock, knowing his daughter could read his features. 

He pushed himself up from his chair and rounded the desk, coming over to where Daisy and Taco laid. 

He lowered himself carefully to the floor, grimacing a little as an ache spread through the old injury in his leg. 

He sat next to her, stretching his legs out across the dark carpet. 

“What your mom did was neither of your faults. You know that, don’t you?” 

Daisy shrugged. 

“Why did you have Lily? I miss being an only child.” She changed the subject. 

“She’s your sister, don’t say that, please.” 

“We were happy before Lily.” Daisy shrugged again, crossing her legs and pulling Taco into her lap. 

“And we were happy after Lily too.” He wrapped an arm around her shoulder and she instinctively leaned into her fathers body. 

“Do you think mom would have cheated on you if you didn’t have Lily?” 

“I don’t know, pumpkin.” He sighed, pulling her closer. “But Lily isn’t the reason she cheated. And neither are you. I guess…I guess I just couldn’t make her happy.” 

“It’s not that I don’t love Lily.” Daisy tugged at Taco’s ear. “I just miss having all of your love.” 

Spencer felt his heart tear in half. He moved his hand from around her shoulder and cupped her jaw gently, guiding her to look at him. 

“Daisy,” he spoke seriously. “Just because I love your sister, it didn’t for a second make me love you any less, ok? You’re my baby girl, the first time I held you in my arms I felt like I could breathe properly for the first time in my life. The first time you looked at me, I finally knew the reason I was put on this Earth. And that was to love you and be your father. Please never think I could love you any less. You are my whole world ok, pumpkin?”

He felt choked up by the end of his speech and he noticed Daisy had tears in her eyes. 

She was quick to sit back and wipe her eyes on her sleeve. 

“God, mushy much dad?” She scoffed and Spencer chucked. 

He leaned in and placed another kiss at her temple. 

“Love you too, pumpkin.” He laughed against her skin. 

***

Spencer found Luke’s words were taking up too much space in his brain. 

When he awoke Saturday morning he laid in bed for a while, staring at the ceiling and just enjoying a moment of peace before Daisy woke up. 

Although it wasn’t all that peaceful.

He was ruminating on Luke’s implications of him living in a shrine. 

It wasn’t as though Spencer meant to do that. He really hadn’t had the time to even think about redecorating. 

Ok, maybe that wasn’t true. He had thought about it, quite often in fact. But there was always some kind of blocker between the thought and the action. For whatever reason, he’d never gotten over that hurdle of actually making a change. 

But it wasn’t because he was clinging to his old life. He didn’t pine over his broken marriage, he didn’t wish for Maeve to see sense and come home. 

But maybe there was a small chance that the reason he’d held off for so long was partly due to the fact that once he changed the house, there was no going back. 

If he decorated it was effectively shattering his dreams of the future he’d planned even though, really, those dreams had been destroyed over a year ago. 

Had he really been grasping at his old life so hard and not even realised? 

Something had to change. 

After breakfast he and Daisy went to the hardware store and he let her pick out a new paint for the living room. 

It wasn’t much but it was a start. It was something to prove he wasn’t living in a shrine to his ex-wife. 

Initially she’d chosen a gawdy bright green shade but thankfully Spencer had talked her down to a much more eye pleasing sage.  

The two of them spent the day painting the room, well Spencer did most of it while Daisy kept getting distracted by Taco. And Daisy did only have one good arm, which she kept reminding him. 

But by the time he was finished he felt accomplished. The new colour was much more his style than the buttermilk yellow Maeve had painted the walls when they moved in. 

The only room he’d really aided in decorating was his office with its dark walls, leather desk chair and dark oak desk and bookshelves. 

He’d still be working at the BAU when they moved in and as such wasn’t around much to help make decorating decisions. 

He’d never disliked the way she’d designed the house but maybe it never quite felt like home as it should have. 

The sage green walls felt more cosy. It was reminiscent of his old apartment, the apartment he’d loved so much. He felt comfortable with a darker aesthetic, which was probably strange but to Spencer it felt more homely. 

Spencer always felt more at ease in darkness, he decided not to dwell too long on that thought and what that meant about his mental state. 

He should call Morgan and have him gut this place and start again from scratch. But he wasn’t quite ready to take that step. And not because he was pining over his old life. 

He didn’t know why. But not everything needed to have a reason. 

Once the painting was done and feeling much more satisfied with his living situation, he cooked dinner for the two of them and after he let Daisy choose a movie which he fell asleep halfway through. 

The closing credits woke him and he rubbed his eyes before focusing on Daisy who had her smartphone pointing at him. 

“What are you doing?” He grumbled, feeling the weight of the dog was laying on his chest. 

“Taking pictures.” She giggled. 

“Why?” He shuffled up the couch a little. 

“You look funny.” She snapped one more picture before her dad got mad. 

“How do I look funny?” He scooted the dog off of him and sat up properly, rubbing his eyes again. 

“See for yourself.” She handed him her phone and he stared at the photograph of his sleeping form, mangy dog sleeping soundly on him. 

But that’s not what he was looking at. 

“For the love of god!” He groaned, jumping up and dashing to the mirror by the door. 

“The paint must still have been wet.” Daisy giggled again. 

Spencer had two very distinctive sage coloured doggy paw prints on his face and many more covering his shirt. 

He glanced around and saw a spot on the wall near the TV where the idiotic mutt had put his front paws in the wet paint. 

There was a trail of the sage prints in the carpet from the wall to the couch. 

“This is why I didn’t want a freaking dog.” Spencer huffed as he made his way to the kitchen to clean his face. “What time is it?” 

“Uh…eight?” Daisy sounded unsure of herself. 

“Which means it’s actually later than that and you don’t want to tell me because you don’t want to go to bed.” He chuckled, wiping his face with some kitchen paper. 

“No.” Daisy whined. “Not true.” 

“You know I’m wearing a watch, right?” As he said this he glanced at it and saw it was a little after ten. “Bedtime missy.” 

“Boo!” Daisy sulked. 

He finished up cleaning his face, thankful the paint seemed to come off easily and came back through to the living room where his stubborn daughter sat vigil on the couch. 

“Come on, pumpkin. I can read to you if you like? We haven’t done that in a while.” 

She pulled a face like she was contemplating this for a moment or two. 

“Can Taco come to bed with me?” 

“Sure, why not. It’s not like I’ve brought him two dog beds or anything.” He sighed. 

Daisy happily picked up the little dog and carried him upstairs where she set him on her bed. 

Spencer sat with him while she went through to the bathroom to change and brush her teeth. 

He tucked her in and Taco curled up by her side. 

Spencer slotted himself on the small part of the empty mattress that was left and Daisy handed him a book. 

He read to her until she was sound asleep, snoring a little. She got that from her mother. 

He kissed her forehead and switched off the light before creeping from the room. 

He thought about having a drink but he was still ashamed of his actions the last time he drank so he decided against it. 

He pulled out his phone as he flopped to the couch and sent you a text. 

📲 Y/N Y/L/N: I really am so sorry. Please can we talk? I miss your voice. Goodnight, beautiful. 

Spencer stared at the freshly painted wall and the paw prints left in it, still having Luke’s words swirling around his brain. 

He didn’t love Maeve. He wasn’t heartbroken over her infidelity. He didn’t need to deal with what she’d done because he hadn’t affected him. Had it? 

Somehow he found himself on his feet and moving books aside on the bookshelf that shielded his gun safe. 

He hadn’t actually kept a gun in it for years, not since he left the bureau. But old habits die hard. 

He entered the combination and opened the thick metal door. His hand shook a little as he pulled out the photo album kept hidden inside. 

It was white once but was dirtied from fingerprints over the years. It was a little scuffed around the edges but that was probably from him stuffing it inside the safe that was just a little too small for it. 

Spencer didn’t know why he kept in there. He supposed it was because he didn’t want the kids stumbling across it and having to look at it before he was ready, before he had the capacity to take this particular trip down memory lane. 

He hadn’t even thought about the album in the year since he’d put it in there. He’d physically locked it away whilst mentally locking away the memories that went with the photographs. 

He took it back over to the couch and tentatively flipped to the first page. 

The first photograph depicted an unusually sunny fall day outside of DC city hall. Spencer wore a suit from his closet and Maeve wore a simple white summer dress, her pregnant belly very noticeable with the slim fitting nature of the dress. 

They both smiled brightly while Morgan snapped the photograph of them showing off their matching gold wedding bands, Spencer’s free hand cupping her stomach that housed baby Daisy. 

He saw no doubts in his eyes, no hint that he was only marrying this woman because he’d gotten her pregnant. He looked genuinely elated to be married. He didn’t remember ever feeling that happy. 

On the next page was a series of photos with the backdrop of a hospital room. 

Images of Spencer fussing over Maeve while she was in labour, a slightly fretful look on his features. 

There was a photo of Maeve with the newborn on her chest, seconds after she was born and Daisy was held by her mother for the first time. 

Another of Spencer in the worn leather chair next to the bed with the tiny seven pound baby cradled in his arms as tears streamed down his cheeks. 

There were a couple more of the three of them together in the hospital room and as they left the hospital the following day, Spencer and Maeve held hands while his free one carried Daisy in her rocker. 

The look on Spencer’s face in each one could only be described as pure bliss. 

There were pictures of Daisy with each member of her new family, with her Aunties Emily, JJ and Penelope and her Uncles Derek and Aaron and grandpa Dave. 

There were photographs from a few weeks later when they’d travelled to Vegas so Diana could meet her granddaughter. 

Diana’s smile when she held Daisy for the first time was the brightest he’d ever seen on his mother. She’d been lucid that day, thank god, and had cried and cooed over the gorgeous little bundle her son had created. 

Other photographs of Daisy’s first steps, her first time on the potty, her first Christmas and birthdays littered the pages. 

Birthday cakes and presents wrapped for a child too young to understand what they were. 

Gaudy Christmas jumpers set against the backdrop of an overly decorated tree. Paper hats from crackers adorned on heads. A small child overstimulated by a holiday she couldn’t comprehend. 

And in every single one he and Maeve looked so happy. The images showed them sharing loving looks, exchanging soft touches. 

If the photos didn’t exist, Spencer wouldn’t have believed it. His memories didn’t allow him to recall the joyful moments, only the hurt and the anger. 

Even as he looked at them he struggled to remember ever feeling the way the man in the photographs looked. 

The further into the album he got showed Maeve’s belly growing for the second time and more hospital photographs with Lily featuring Aunty Tara, and Uncles Luke and Matt. 

More holiday photos lined the pages, this time with Daisy helping her sister open her presents. 

Lots of photos of the two girls together riddled the pages. Daisy holding Lily’s hand while she learnt to walk, Daisy reading to her little sister. Daisy cuddling her new little sister and beaming proudly. 

They looked like the perfect family, smiling for the camera. But what was hiding beneath? Were they ever really happy at all? 

About a year after Lily’s birth, the photographs just stopped. The empty pages at the end of the album taunted Spencer. 

They just stopped. Ended with no warning. It was as though all the happy, smiling faces of the pages before had died. 

Maybe they had. 

Tensions had been high between him and Maeve after Spencer gave up the BAU. He resented Maeve and to a certain extent his beautiful daughter, for having to give up a job he adored. 

He was frustrated and exhausted all the time. He was making less money at Georgetown, which didn’t matter so much in the present as he had a substantial amount of savings, but not enough to send two kids to college. His future problems crossed over into his present day. 

It took its toll on Spencer. He went to work, came home and doted on his daughters and barely said two words to Maeve. 

He had a quick temper. His exhaustion manifested in anger and when he did talk to Maeve it was usually to argue with her about something. 

He’d been distant, far away even when he was at home, and she’d been lonely. So she met Bobby who made her feel wanted. 

Could he blame her for that? Was Luke right? He hadn’t been attentive to his wife and so she’d sought comfort elsewhere. Was it his fault she’d strayed? Had he pushed her to it? 

He flipped the album back to the first page to their wedding photo. Was he to blame in all of this? 

He was so wrapped up in his self pity, the knock at the door startled him. 

He frowned to himself as he pushed himself to his feet and padded over to the door. 

Who was knocking at his house so late at night? 

He unlocked the door and cautiously it opened a fraction so he could see who was on the other side before he committed to opening it. 

His frown only deepened when he looked into a familiar pair of eyes staring back at him from the dark. 

He opened the door fully and braced himself against the door jamb. 

“Y/N,” he swallowed. “What are you doing here?” 

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