#also what about his plan to make him fall for him??

[incognit0slut]

Crawling back to you

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Simmons!Reader Summary: You never planned on having a casual fling with your brother's friend five years ago, nor did you expect him to fall in love with you, which forced you to end things abruptly. But now he's unexpectedly back in your life—older, wiser, and fully intent on winning your heart. Content: (18+) >12k words, reader has commitment issues, he’s the softest softdom i’ve ever written, female oral, fingering, unprotected p in v, a little squirting? teeth rotting fluff and a chaotic ending because who am i without my crack humor A/n: This is for @imagining-in-the-margins FWB writing challenge and somewhat a celebration post for 7k milestone. Idk how that happened but tysm :( I hope you like this as much as I did writing it because matt simmons is so underrated??? I’m also freaking nervous with this i haven’t posted a new fic in a while so please please please be nice i feel like throwing up

Surprise has a way of stopping time. Although you're not sure you can call it that. What you’re experiencing is more than just surprise, it’s the kind of feeling that makes you freeze in place. It’s not just a jolt to the system—it’s a full-body takeover. Your breath catches, your heart skips, and your thoughts scatter like leaves caught in the wind. How could they not, when the last person you expected to see is standing right in front of you, clad in the most questionable clothes?

You almost laugh at how absurd he looks. He’s wearing an oversized hoodie with a tacky “Washington D.C.” print sprawled across the front. It’s baffling why he’s draped in that shapeless thing over his freakishly tall frame, but it’s too hard to focus on something so trivial when you’re still grasping with the reality of seeing him again. You really can’t believe it. Spencer Reid is here. The Spencer Reid.

The guy whose heart you broke five years ago.

You should have seen this coming. In fact, you kind of did, when your brother’s friends came rushing into the hospital room, their voices a chorus of “oohs” and “aahs” as they crowded around the newborn cradled in Kristy’s arms. You exchanged polite greetings when they noticed you—Penelope even pulled you into a tight hug, gushing about how amazing you looked—and thankfully, there was no sign of him.

But you’d almost allowed yourself to believe he wouldn’t show up. When the small space became overly crowded, you stepped out into the waiting room to catch your breath… only to find him standing a few feet away with JJ.

And just like that, all the air seems to vanish from your lungs.

You had a plan, of course. In the back of your mind, you always knew a chance meeting was inevitable, whether you liked it or not. And that plan was simple. You’d offer him a polite smile. Exchange a few words, nothing too personal. You’d be friendly but distant, always make sure to keep the kind of composure that says you’ve moved on, and that the past is just that: the past.

But those well-laid plans seem fragile now, almost naive as you suddenly caught his smile. Now how do you stick to a script when your heart is starting to rewrite all the lines? Or blur the lines specifically, when the past and present merge so seamlessly that you’re reminded of the first time that same smile had charmed you.

You’re suddenly thrown back to that day five years ago, when your brother had thrown a barbecue cookout to celebrate some joint investigation his team had wrapped up. You didn’t know the details—didn’t really care to, if you were honest—but Matt had called you and insisted that you join him.

You hadn't thought much of it at the time. It sounded like another family gathering with a few new faces. But that was the day you met Spencer, and what began as a simple introduction quickly spiraled into something much more complicated. Really complicated. Because as charmed as you were by his smile, he had wanted something more from you when all you could offer him was your body.

So you ran away.

Although not very far, because apparently, he’s standing a few steps away from you, five years later. And the worst part? He’s now very much aware that you’re here. You watch as his jaw slacks open as he takes a double-take. You’re rooted in place. JJ, on the other hand, tugs his sleeve as she notices his demeanor slowly shutting down. She turns around to see what’s caught his attention, and when she spots you, a huge smile spreads across her face.

"Hey! You're here!” You force yourself to look away from him as she moves forward. You reciprocate the hug she throws at you. "How are you?”

You’re not entirely sure how to answer. How do you even explain that your heart just did a triple backflip and landed somewhere near your stomach? Or that you’re seconds away from having an internal existential crisis because, of course, the universe would choose this moment to throw Spencer Reid back into your life?

There's really no good way to sum that up. So instead, you plaster on a smile that probably looks more like a grimace and reply, "Good. I’m good.”

JJ doesn’t seem to notice the strained edges in your voice. “It’s so nice to see you again! How long has it been?”

There’s a moment of silence as you try to gather your thoughts. But before you can respond, Spencer’s voice suddenly cuts through the quiet. It’s soft, almost hesitant, as if he’s been holding onto this detail for far too long, but every syllable rings in your ears.

"Five years," he says. "Five years, three months, and seventeen days."

Your stomach does another flip. JJ raises her brows, her eyes darting between you and him. You carefully meet her gaze. "Actually, you and I met up last year.”

“Oh, right!” She exclaims, her face lighting up as the memory clicks into place. “You were in town for a conference, right? I totally forgot about that.”

“You were in town last year and you didn’t tell me?”

God, he’s making it terribly hard for you to keep your composure. You throw him a sidelong glance. “I didn’t know you wanted to see me.”

His expression shifts slightly, a flicker of something unreadable crossing his face. He looks at you as if your words sounds ludicrous to him.

“I always want to see you.”

You can't decide what surprises you more, the fact that he still wants to see you after all these years, or how easily he says it. The words roll off his tongue so casually, so effortlessly, as if the weight of your shared past doesn’t cling to them. And to make matters worse, he's saying this right in front of JJ, who is now staring at him, clearly scrutinizing the significance behind his words.

You quickly shift your attention to her, forcing another smile. "So, are you going to head inside?"

JJ blinks at you. “Oh, yeah, I probably should.” She turns to Spencer and gives him a quick but knowing glance. "See you on Monday, Spence."

You glance at him. “You're not going to see the baby?"

"Spencer’s got something he needs to take care of,” JJ chimes in. There’s a slight edge to her voice, like she knows exactly what that ‘something’ is, but she doesn’t elaborate. She gives him one last look before heading inside.

You catch yourself looking up at him again. “You’re leaving?”

Spencer pauses, studying you carefully, his brow furrowing just slightly like he’s trying to read between the lines of your question.

“I was,” he says softly.

There’s a sudden tightness in your chest. “Right.”

“But now I don’t want to.”

There it goes again, the butterflies in your stomach. This is exactly why you didn’t want to see him. You knew that once you looked into his eyes, heard his voice, it would stir up everything you’ve spent five years trying to bury. You’d told yourself it was better to pretend that whatever happened between you was nothing more than a stupid choice. But now, standing here with him so close, you can feel all those walls you built crumbling down with just a few words.

You finally look at him, like really look at him. It’s impossible not to notice how he’s changed over the past five years. There are faint lines around his eyes now, signs of age that wasn't there before. His hair is longer, a little messier. It curls around his ears in a way that makes him look almost boyish, yet undeniably charming which suits him more than you'd like to admit.

But even with all the changes, his smile—gentle and just a little shy—remains the same. That smile reminds you of a time when things were simpler, where it was enough to convince you that you didn't have to keep your guard up all the time. But then you remember the reason you walked away, and his smile becomes a little harder to look at.

Because while he's changed, grown, matured, so have you, and you're not sure if there's room for the person you are now in the space that once belonged to both of you.

His eyes scan you in the same way you’re assessing him. “You look good.”

Your mouth twitches at his words. You didn’t expect him to be so straightforward. “Thank you.”

“You’re even prettier than I remember.”

The sigh you let out is long and weary. He really knows how to push your buttons.

“Spencer. Don’t.”

“What?”

“You can’t just say things like that after—” You hesitate, crossing your arms. "After everything. What happened to 'Hi, how are you?’. Or maybe something simple like ‘What have you been up to? Anything new?’”

He blinks, clearly taken aback by your abruptness. “Okay. Hi, how are you?”

You cast him a wary glance. “Good.”

"What have you been up to?"

"Work."

"Anything new?"

"No."

He pauses again, his eyes searching yours before he asks, "No new boyfriend?"

You frown. “Huh?”

“Girlfriend?”

"Spencer."

"Are you seeing anyone?"

"Spencer."

He smiles sheepishly, his shoulders sagging slightly. "You're right, that was inappropriate. I didn't think I would see you again, it’s throwing me off a bit."

“You didn’t think I would be here for my newborn niece?”

His smile turns into a grimace. "I guess I wasn't thinking clearly." He shifts on his feet, fidgeting with his fingers—a small, familiar tic that you hadn’t seen in years. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make things weird.”

“It’s fine,” you reply, though there’s no real bite to your words. His nervous energy is making it hard to stay annoyed. Your eyes narrow on his oversized hoodie again, the casual, almost careless choice that seems slightly out of character for the Spencer you remember.

He seems to notice you staring so blatantly. “What?”

“You look funny.”

A hint of surprise flashes across his face. “You think I’m funny?”

“Different,” you correct. “Did you raid someone’s closet on your way here or something?”

"Oh… I had to change my clothes. I got wet at the park earlier.”

You glance towards the window with a frown. "It's not even raining."

"I ran through the sprinklers."

The cease on your forehead deepens. Even that sounds so unlike him. Spencer Reid doing something that carefree in public?

“You ran through the sprinklers? Alone?"

You notice his expression shift as the question leaves your lips, something very subtle, but you’ve known him long enough to catch it. The way his eyes flicker, the slight hesitation before he answers, makes it obvious. There’s a hint of something unspoken in the way he looks at you, and suddenly, it all clicks into place.

He wasn’t alone.

You look away. It's ridiculous, you think. To feel this somewhat… jealous when it should be the last thing on your mind because, really, what right do you have? What you had with him wasn’t even a relationship to begin with. But despite all the logic in the world, you can’t help the pang in your chest, the twist of something bitter and familiar curling in your gut.

"It's not what you think," he slowly says.

You force a small, awkward laugh, trying to brush it off. "I wasn’t assuming anything. It’s none of my business, anyway."

"No, really, it's nothing like that." he insists, scrunching his nose in the way he does when he's trying to think. "I mean, I did meet someone at the park, but it’s not like… what you might be thinking. We were just talking, and… and then there were these sprinklers and it wasn’t really planned or anything, then she—well, technically, we weren’t even alone the whole time because there were other people around, and it’s not like we—”

“Spencer, you don’t have to explain—” you begin, but then something dawns on you. “Wait, is this what JJ was referring to? Did you… Did you have plans?”

You notice his Adam’s apple dip as he swallows. "Kind of," he admits. “But it wasn't anything serious. It was just, you know, a casual thing.”

You can't help the way your stomach knots. Casual could mean anything. Maybe a simple coffee between two friends, or even a lighthearted conversation over lunch. But in your experience, at least in the book you and Spencer had written together in the past, casual had always meant sex. And now, hearing him say it about someone else feels like a punch to the gut you hadn't expected.

You suddenly feel foolish for letting your mind go there, for assuming that whatever he meant by casual was the same thing it had meant for the two of you back then. It's been five years, and so much has changed. Maybe casual means something entirely different for him now, and you're the one stuck in the past, reading into things that no longer hold the same weight.

He must have noticed the slight falter in your expression, the way your eyes momentarily cloud over with something you can’t quite hide. He takes a step forward. "It’s really nothing.”

You take a step back. “Even if it is, it’s really not my business.”

“But it’s not,” he urges. He’s suddenly so persistent, and you can’t help but feel the embarrassment gnawing you at how easily he can read your mind. It's one thing to wrestle with these feelings privately, but having them so clearly acknowledged makes it all the more humiliating. You can’t believe you let yourself get so worked up over something that shouldn’t matter this much.

You eye the exit door. “I need to go.”

"Right now?” His brows knit together in confusion. “But your family’s here."

You’ve only spent a few minutes with him and you’re already running away.

"I just remembered I have to take care of… something."

The excuse sounds weak even to your own ears, but you don’t wait for his response. You quickly turn on your heel, and when he calls out your name with concern, you force yourself to keep moving, scurrying off down the hallway.

Me: I'm heading back first Big bro: You okay? Me: Bad headache Big Bro: You didn't eat anything, did you?

You scoff. What is it about your brother always zeroing in on eating whenever you complain about feeling off?

Me: You know I did. Just not much Big Bro: That’s what I thought. There’s some leftover dinner in the fridge. And check the second drawer in the kitchen, there should be some ibuprofen Me: Yes, Dad Big Bro: Don’t get smart with me Me: 🫡 Big Bro: Drink lots of water Me: Yes, sir. Anything else on your mind while you’re giving out parental advice? Big Bro: I’m just trying to keep myself from dragging you out of my house if you collapse Me: 🙄 Big Bro: The kids are staying with Kristy’s parents, I’ll drop by tomorrow morning Me: Okay Big Bro: Call me if you need anything

You toss your phone down on the bed, then let out the most exasperated sigh. Spending your Saturday night in your brother’s guest room is the last thing you expect to be doing, let alone faking a headache just to avoid confronting a situationship from the past. You honestly thought you’d outgrown this kind of avoidance, but here you are, slipping back into old habits as if no time has passed at all.

Ironically, your mind stumbles into the past, and you remember a conversation you once had with Spencer. It was during one of those nights when you both were tangled in each other’s arms. You could faintly remember the conversation started with him talking about his work.

He never actually told you the details of his cases, but he liked to share his thoughts on the different complexities of the human mind. And on that particular night, he was rambling about the psychological concept of avoidance, which he claimed to have detected the first time he spotted the bad guy. He went on at how people often retreat into familiar behaviors to protect themselves from discomfort.

At the time, you had brushed it off with a joke, teasing him about overanalyzing everything when the situation had already played out. But now the irony isn’t lost on you. You’re doing exactly what he once explained. It’s almost laughable if it didn’t sting so much to realize how right he was.

A sharp ding from your phone pulls you out of your thoughts, and one glance at it tells you exactly who’s messaging. The name on the screen makes your chest tighten, but you don’t even give yourself a moment to consider responding. You quickly turn the phone to silent, push yourself off the bed, and head straight for the kitchen. True to your brother’s words, there’s leftover pizza in the fridge, but the idea of reheating it doesn’t seem appealing to you.

You reach for the bottle of wine instead.

The red liquor tastes like butter, or something close to it. It’s similar in the way the liquid melts over your tongue, spreading warmth through your chest and settling comfortably in your belly. By the time you're sipping the second glass, you feel more relaxed, but then the sharp sound of the doorbell ringing cuts through the calm.

You glance at the door from the position of the couch. You have a strong feeling about who it is. But as much as you're sure of the who, what really gnaws at you is the why.

You hesitantly make your way toward the door, and sure enough, when you pull it open, Spencer is standing at your brother’s doorstep. The corner of his lips turns upward in an awkward, almost apologetic half-smile as if he’s unsure of how to begin or whether he should even be there in the first place.

You lean against the doorframe. “Did Matt tell you I was here?”

He gives you a pointed look, his eyebrows raising slightly. “No, but it wasn’t hard to figure out.” You throw him the same questioning look, and he explains, “This is the only place you’d stay in town because not only do you hate staying alone at a hotel, but Matt wouldn’t let you even if you tried.”

You can’t believe he still remembers your offhand comment about sterile hotel rooms. It’s one of the reasons you used to prefer staying at his apartment whenever you were in town.

“Why are you here anyway?” You ask. “I thought you had plans.”

He pauses for moment as if deciding how much to say. Finally, he clears his throat. “Can I come in? I’d rather explain it inside.”

"I don't think you owe me any explanations about what you do with your time," you reply, crossing your arms.

"Maybe I don't owe it, but I want to give it.”

“Which isn’t necessary.”

“But appreciated, I hope.”

You find yourself caught off guard by the sincerity in his voice. You tell yourself not to read too much into it, but there's a part of you that can't help but soften at his words. Maybe it's the way his eyes reminds you of melted chocolate as he stares at you that makes you want to let him in, despite your better judgment.

You pull the door open. “Fine, but take your shoes off. Kristy’s very serious about hygiene.”

He does as he’s told and tucks away his shoes on the rack by the door.

“Do you want anything to drink?”

He shakes his head slightly, offering a small smile. "I'm good, thanks."

You nod and gesture toward the living room. He follows you, and as you both approach the couch, he instinctively moves to the far end, settling down cautiously as if not wanting to invade your space. You take a seat on the opposite end.

“So, what do you want to talk about?”

He leans back slightly, resting his hands on his knees. You can tell he's trying to gauge your mood, figure out how much to push and when to hold back. "Do you remember when we went on that date at the street fair?"

You frown, remembering how you had missed your bus home in one of your trips here and ended up wandering at the fair with him. “That wasn’t a date.”

"Fine. Do you remember when we went to the street fair together not on a date?"

“I remember."

His shoulders relax a bit at your response. “You spent ages deciding what to eat and you ended up choosing that little Korean stall in the corner. We had to walk a bit further to get there even when your shoes were hurting you.”

You think back, internally scolding yourself for wearing those damn boots that day. “You thought I was being ridiculous.”

"I didn't think it was ridiculous. I just didn't get it at first. Your feet were practically covered in blisters."

"I really wanted kimchi."

"I could tell, and it took me a while to understand why you went through all that trouble. Now I do.”

You glance at him, sensing there's more behind his words. “Why are you bringing this up?"

He meets your gaze. His brown eyes looking a little more golden underneath the dim light. "I guess this is me choosing.”

“That you’re craving for Korean?”

He gives a soft, genuine laugh, the kind that starts in his chest and reaches his eyes, making them crinkle at the corners. “Not exactly,” he says and leans a little closer. “What I’m trying to say is, that’s how I feel right now. I'm here because I want to be, not because it's convenient, but because it’s you.”

There’s a subtle flutter in your chest, and your skin prickles with a familiar warmth as he speaks. Your heart beats a little faster, not enough to be alarming, but just enough to remind you that you’re not as unaffected as you pretend to be. You can feel your palms start to sweat, and there’s that almost imperceptible hitch in your breathing that you hope he doesn’t notice.

“Spencer…” You don’t even know how to start. “It’s been five years."

He nods slowly. “I know.”

“No, I don’t think you do. A lot of has changed since the last time we saw each another, and you’re here acting like we both separated on good terms? Don't you hate me?”

His brow furrows slightly. “Why would I hate you?”

“Because I broke your heart. I—" Your voice falters as you struggle to find the right words. "The moment you told me you were falling in love with me, I... I ran. I couldn’t handle it. I pushed you away like a coward.”

“You weren't a coward, you were scared. And maybe I didn’t understand that back then, but I do now.”

You shake your head. “But I hurt you.”

The sigh he lets out is heavy, yet there's something deceptively calm about it, almost as if he’s already made peace with the past. “You did what you thought you had to do, and sure, it hurt. But I’ve had a lot of time to think about it, and I realized that I don’t blame you for needing space. It wasn’t about me not being enough, it was about you needing to protect yourself.”

His words start to chip away at the wall you’ve built around your heart. “I thought you’d hate me,” you admit quietly.

“I could never hate you."

You lower your gaze, your fingers fiddling nervously with the edge of the cushion. “Alright, let’s say you choose me. Now what? What is it that you want?”

He pauses for a moment, his fingers curled into his palms. He looks away briefly, taking a deep breath as if gathering his thoughts, then returns his gaze to you. “I want another chance.”

If you were surprised to see him at the hospital earlier, this is something entirely different. There’s something akin to panic fluttering in your chest. It’s amusing, really, how the human body reacts before the mind fully comprehends as if your heart knows what’s coming before you do. You can feel it in the way your breath catches, in the way your stomach knots with a nervous energy you can’t quite shake. Because how do you even react to that?

You finally turn to face him, leaning your head against the back of the couch. This moment feels like some sort of déjà vu, and just like the last time, your mind is already bracing itself, preparing to give him the same answer you did back then.

“You know it’s never going to work.”

He mirrors you, but instead of the frustration or sadness you half-expected, there’s a gentle smile on his lips. “You sound so sure.”

“That’s because I am,” you reply. “I know what you’re asking for right now, and we don’t function like that. Not in the past, at least.”

“How did we function?”

“Based on sex.”

“And what do you think I’m asking for now?”

“More than sex, which isn’t going to work."

“Why not?”

“Because—” you start, but the words catch in your throat. You’re not even sure how to explain. The fears, the doubts, the past... all of it feels too big, too overwhelming to articulate in a way that makes sense.

“Because the idea still terrifies you?”

You frown, caught off guard by the directness of his question. “No.”

The smile stretches even more across his face. “Then give me one good reason why you think so.”

"Oh I can name a few."

He studies you, his eyes narrowing slightly as if he’s trying to read every thought racing through your mind. “Let’s make a deal then. You give me those reasons why we can’t work, and I’ll give you reasons why we can.”

You’re quiet for a moment, considering his offer. It’s bold, almost reckless, and yet... there’s something in his eyes that makes you want to accept the challenge.

"And if your reasons aren’t good enough?"

“Then we’ll deal with that when we come to it,” he replies softly. “But I’m willing to bet we won’t have to.”

"You really think you can convince me?"

"I can try." He leans a little closer, just enough for you to feel the warmth radiating from his body. "So, what’s your first reason?"

That’s too easy, too obvious. “You’re one of my brother’s closest friends,” you point out. “What happens if this doesn’t work out? I don’t want to put him, or us, in that position.”

He doesn’t miss a beat. “That didn’t stop us in the past.”

You scoff. “Spencer, we were sneaking around behind his back. It’s not exactly the same thing. This… whatever this is, it would be out in the open, and that’s a whole different level of complicated.”

“It would be different, yes. But that doesn’t mean it has to be a problem. If anything, it shows how serious we were then, and how serious we could be now.” You scrunch your nose at his response. “Now what’s next on your list?”

"Uhh.. the distance! You’re in D.C., and I’m not. It’s not like I can just drop everything and move closer.”

He raises an eyebrow. “You’re a three-hour drive away, maybe two if I take the expressway. And honestly, with how much we both travel for work, I don’t see how that’s an issue.”

His reasoning is so undeniably logical you feel a flicker of annoyance, not at him, but at how easily he’s dismantling your arguments.

“You didn’t even want to visit me back then.”

"You were the one who didn't want me to. You kept saying it was easier for you to come here.”

His words hit harder than you expect. You remember all the times you insisted on making the trips yourself. You'd convinced yourself it was about convenience, but with him calling you out on it, you realize it wasn't about convenience at all. It was about keeping things on your terms, maintaining a safe distance even when that distance wasn't physical.

"Well, I had more flexible hours," you claim. The excuse is flimsy, and the way Spencer looks at you—patient, but not fooled—makes it clear that he sees right through it.

You try to think of your next reason, although the words seem to get stuck before they even form. You know you can easily rattle off more excuses, but something about the way he’s looking at you makes it harder than it should be.

“That’s it? You’ve only thought of two? I was expecting a bit more of a challenge.”

You scowl at him. "I didn’t say I was done."

"Take your time," he comments, leaning back slightly, still wearing that infuriatingly patient smile.

You huff softly, trying to regain your footing. "Okay, how about this? Sex."

There's a beat of silence. "What about sex?"

You feel the words forming, but they sound ridiculous even in your own mind. Still, you force them out of your mouth. Your subconscious is urging you to come up with more excuses to keep him at arm’s length. "That was all that we had. What if… what if we just fall back into the same patterns?"

“Don't you think that's a reason why we can work? If we were only ever about sex and we're still here, doesn't that show there's something more between us?"

“Or it just means we had a strong physical connection. That doesn’t necessarily mean there’s something more.”

“You really believe that? That all we had was just physical?”

“Yes,” you retort, though the confidence in your voice wavers slightly. Your eyes flicker away for a split second before you meet his gaze again. “That’s all it ever was and I don’t know if it can turn into something you’re trying to imply.”

He lets out a low, amused sound, as the corners of his mouth twitches upward. “You’re deflecting.”

“I’m being realistic,” you shoot back. “What if we try, and it doesn’t work? What if everything falls apart because we weren’t good at anything but the sex?”

His eyes light up, and suddenly he’s wearing the most boyish grin you’ve ever seen on him. “So you're admitting the sex was good?"

You stop yourself from rolling your eyes.

“You know what I mean. What we had was...” Wild? Passionate? Crazy-hot-mind-blowing sex? “…intense. But intensity isn't enough for a relationship. What if the rest of it doesn't hold up?"

He leans in closer, his hand hovering near yours on the couch.

“But what if it does?”

All you can do is stare at him.

“You’re giving me all these reasons to push me away again,” he continues. “But I’m here because I’m not afraid of those doubts. I’ve always wanted to give you more than what we had because you deserve something real. I want us to be real this time, and I think you do too, even if you’re scared to admit it.”

His words are affecting you more than you like to admit. You can slowly feel it in the tension building between you, it’s surprisingly not the uncomfortable kind, but the sort that pulls you in, that makes you want to move closer even though every instinct tells you to stay put.

And then it happens. You feel a slight tremor in your leg, an involuntary movement that causes it to brush against his. The contact is so light it's almost like it didn't happen at all, but it did. He notices—Of course he does—and now there’s a certain gentleness in his gaze like he knows exactly what's going on inside your head. He doesn't push, doesn't rush, just watches you with those impossibly kind eyes.

And in the softest, most careful voice, he asks, “Can I move closer?"

Your heart is pounding now, the rhythm echoing in your ears, in your chest, in the pulse at your throat. The sensation travels downward, a slow, steady beat that moves through your body, inching its way down your spine, tightening in your stomach before it settles low in your abdomen. It’s a heat that spreads outward until it reaches your core, leaving you acutely aware of every inch of space between you and him—and how much you want to close that distance.

You find yourself nodding. He shifts closer. “Can I touch you?”

You really want to say something witty, something that might deflect from the weight of the situation, but the words won’t come out. You can only manage another nod. He moves slowly, carefully, giving you every opportunity to pull back. But you don’t. You can’t. You’re rooted in place as his hand reaches for you.

His palm gently rests on your jaw. Your eyes flutter closed against your consciousness, and the tension that’s been coiling in your chest slowly unwinds, replaced by a sense of calm. When his thumb slides across your cheek, he speaks again. His voice is so close it's as if the words themselves are brushing over your lips.

"Can I kiss you?"

You inhale sharply. The word "Yes" hovers on the tip of your tongue, but you don't need to say it out loud. He can already see the answer in the way you’re leaning into him, and his mouth is on yours in an instant.

The reality is, you’ve kissed Spencer before. Plenty of times, actually. You know the feel of his lips, the way they can be both gentle and demanding, the way he tastes faintly of coffee or something sweet when he’s had a treat. You also think back to those hurried kisses in the past when time was short and the world was pressing down on you. Or the playful pecks that came with laughter. Even the desperate, heated moments when the need to feel something, anything, was too overwhelming to resist.

This kiss, however, isn’t like any of those. This one is slow, and achingly tender. His movements are unhurried. The way his lips glide over yours carries a deep sense of care, like he’s trying to memorize every soft curve. Just as you begin to melt in his arms, he pulls away slightly, not very far, but enough to hover close that you can still feel the heat of his breath on your lips.

There’s a tense silence as the tip of his nose brushes gently against your cheek. You can tell he’s giving you the space to decide what happens next, and there are a lot of scenarios running in your head. You could push him away, repeating history all over again. You could be in denial and pretend all of this never even happened. But something inside you snaps.

Maybe it’s the way he’s holding back, so gentle, so careful, too afraid of pushing too far. Or maybe it’s the realization that you don’t want him to hold back, that you need more, that you’re tired of resisting what you’ve both been dancing around for so long. Before you can second guess yourself, you’re clutching onto the fabric of his hoodie, tugging him closer.

He tenses for a moment, but the hesitation is gone almost as soon as it appears. His mouth finds yours again, and he lets out a deep, relieved sigh. You feel the soft, insistent push of his tongue against the seam of your lips. You hold onto him, parting your mouth eagerly before he slips his tongue with a desperation that catches you off guard.

Then his hands seem to be everywhere all at once, tracing the curve of your spine, sliding down to the small of your back, and brushing along the edge of your jaw. His fingers then tangle in your hair, tugging gently while his other hand skims over your waist. But when his hand slips inside your shirt, calloused fingers brushing your soft skin, you slowly pull away. “W-Wait.”

His eyes widen slightly, and you can feel the shift in his body. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

“No, no,” you say quickly, tugging him closer again. “I just… I think we should continue this conversation somewhere more… private?”

He pauses for a moment. “Really?”

“If you want to.”

A subtle smile tugs at the corners of his mouth. “Are you trying to seduce me for sex?”

You’re oscillating between being incredibly turned on and equally mortified. In a sense, yes, that’s what you’re asking. But you didn’t expect him to be so blunt about it. You don’t think he’s ever been this direct in the past, and now you’re wondering if you missed something before, or if he’s just tapped into a level of confidence you’re struggling to keep up with.

“Would it be inappropriate if I said that I am?” you ask hesitantly, and you can’t help but wince a little as the words leave your mouth.

“Since when have you been worried about being inappropriate with me?”

“Well, Spencer, if you haven’t noticed, there’s a five-year gap since the last time we slept together.”

His hand on your waist tightens slightly. “Five years too long, if you ask me.” Then he pulls you closer until there’s barely any space left between you. “You do realize this is you giving me a second chance, right?"

In a way, you do. You've spent so much time convincing yourself that you were better off keeping your distance. Walking away in the past was easy, but now… now it feels different. The years have stretched on, and the excuses you’ve made have started to wear thin. Especially when just being near him is starting to stir memories you thought you’d buried—some good, some less so—but all intense, all Spencer.

Maybe he's right. Maybe five years is too long to pretend that whatever was between you didn't matter.

You slowly meet his gaze. “I realize.”

“And you’re okay with that?”

You hesitate, not out of doubt, but because of the sheer gravity of what you're about to say.

"Maybe."

His sigh is audible when he hears your answer, and without missing a beat, he brushes the barest, lightest, most gentle of kisses on your lips. “Maybe is good.” Kiss. “I can take—” Kiss. Kiss. “—maybe.”

You think you should say something more, but all coherent thoughts scatter the instant his lips meet yours again. You return his kisses, hesitant at first, but quickly falling into a rhythm that feels achingly familiar. It doesn’t take long until his lips move into something more urgent. There’s a hunger there, a pent-up longing that he can no longer hold back. His tongue flicks against yours, teasing, coaxing, and you know you need to stop him before he starts to undress you right there on the couch.

You reluctantly pull back. “Bedroom. Now.”

He doesn’t need to be told twice. He pulls you to your feet, and you’re practically dragging him to the guest bedroom. When the door closes behind you, he’s quick to guide you toward the bed, his hands firm on your hips as he steers you backward. The moment your legs hit the edge of the bed, he pauses, his hands lingering on your waist, and for a moment, he just looks at you.

“Having second thoughts?” You tease. The sarcasm drips sweetly in your voice, knowing full well he’s been trying to win your heart the entire evening.

“No,” he mutters. “I’m trying to see if you are.”

You draw back from his arms just enough to climb onto the bed and lay down in the middle. “Does it look like I am?”

He shakes his head with that cute, bashful smile. Although there’s nothing bashful about the way he pulls off his hoodie and tosses it carelessly onto the floor. The shirt underneath is crumpled, and his hair is even messier, sticking up in ways that make you want to run your hands through it.

“Come here,” you motion for him. Without hesitation, he crawls between your legs and leans in for another kiss. His hair feels like the smoothest silk when you finally reach for it. There’s a slight dampness from the faint sheen of sweat on his skin, the way it curls just slightly at the ends, brushing against your forehead as he dips his head to capture your mouth.

You don’t think you can ever get tired of kissing him. There’s a familiarity in the way he moves. His lips mold perfectly to yours, soft yet demanding, as if he knows exactly how to draw out the deepest parts of your desire. And you feel it everywhere. In your pulse, in your veins, all the way down to the spot between your legs.

It intensifies even more when his lips begin to trail down your neck. You feel the first warm rush of arousal pooling in your panties when he presses an open-mouthed kiss to your throat, the fluttering veins below your jaw with so much intensity as if he's taking every one of your heartbeats for himself. Your grip tightens in his hair as he marks another spot near your collarbone.

“I’ve missed this so much,” he murmurs as he slowly nips down your neck. “I’ve missed you.”

You can only hum a reply, your voice catching in your throat as your head starts to spin from the way his hands are now trailing down your side. He reaches the hem of your shirt and pauses, fingers lightly tugging at the fabric.

“Can I take this off?” He asks, pulling back slightly just enough to look down at you. With his messy hair falling into his glossy brown eyes and swollen wet lips, how can you possibly say no to him?

Without a second thought, you nod, your fingers already moving to help him with the fabric. His eyes never leave yours as he slowly lifts your shirt. It slides up over your skin, and you raise your arms to let him pull it off completely, tossing it aside without a care. Your bra comes off next, and when that follows to the floor, his eyes sweep over your body.

There’s a certain look in his gaze. Devotion would be too strong of a word, but it’s something close—something softer, yet just as intense. You’ve seen desire before, felt it in fleeting touches and heated glances, but this is different. This feels different. It’s as if his gaze is reaching into the spaces between your thoughts, gently pulling at the threads that hold you together to unravel you in the most tender of ways.

He kisses the spot between your breasts.

“You’re always so pretty.”

He gives a soft peck just above your heart.

“So incredibly beautiful.”

Then his tongue flicks along the delicate curve of your chest, making a slow, teasing trail upward until he takes one of your nipples into his mouth. He sucks gently, rolling it around with his tongue, and you’re mesmerized by the lewd scene of him drawing your flesh between his lips. Your fingers instinctively find their way back into his hair, tugging on the soft strands as he continues to lap at your sensitive skin.

He then shifts slightly, his mouth releasing your nipple with a soft, wet sound before moving to give the same attention to the other. While he suckles and nibbles on one hardened peak, he rolls the other between his thumb and forefinger, sending a rush of pleasure straight to your core. If you thought you were wet before, you’re certain you’re drenched by now. Your panties cling uncomfortably and the growing desire makes you ache to peel them off.

He must sense your growing need because his kisses trail lower, down to your stomach, while his fingers toy with the waistband of your leggings. His touch is teasing, slipping just under the elastic, and you instinctively lift your hips, silently begging for more. He takes his time as he slides the fabric down your legs, his knuckles brushing against your skin before discarding them somewhere in the room.

Your attention is on him as his palm dances along your inner thigh, and the closer he gets to where you ache him the most, the more your breath hitches in your throat. When his thumb brushes over the wet patch on your panties, your hips buck against him. “Spencer…”

He glances over at you and lets out the most appreciative sigh. You really are beautiful. Eyes full of lust, skin flushed with his marks. You’re a vision of longing, and every part of him is consumed by the sight of you. “Yes?”

You squirm under his gaze. “Aren’t you… going to take them off?”

A slow, teasing smile spreads across his face. “What, these?” He gives a playful tug at the edge of your panties, his fingers just barely slipping beneath the fabric before pulling away. “Are you sure you want them off?”

You try to hold back your groan when his thumb finds your clit. “Yes. I-I’m sure.”

He grins, clearly enjoying the effect he has on you, but instead of giving in immediately, he begins to circle your clit slowly with his thumb, watching your reaction closely. “On a scale from one to ten, how sure are you?”

Now he’s starting to get on your nerves. You can’t hold back the small huff falling from your lips. He simply laughs then slowly takes off the last piece of your clothing. The cool air instantly hits your skin as he grabs your knees, spreading your legs apart. He skims along your naked body and when you notice where his gaze settles, you swallow hard, suddenly feeling very shy.

It's kind of ironic, you think, how you've gotten this far, and now, of all times, you're suddenly blushing like a damn teenager. It's as if your brain is catching up to everything your body already knows—that this is real, and it's happening. You can't help but laugh at yourself a little. Here you are, all tangled up in each other, practically begging him to get you naked and yet you're acting shy now?

He seems to notice the shift in your mood, his hands pausing on your thighs as he looks up at you with concern. He tilts his head slightly, his brow furrowing. “Did I do something wrong?”

You quickly shake your head. “I’m suddenly feeling very self-conscious.”

He studies your face for a moment. “Do you want me to stop?”

“No!” you blurt out, more forcefully than you intended, your hand instinctively reaching out to grab his wrist. “I… I guess I’m not used to feeling this exposed in front of you.”

He shifts slightly, moving closer so he’s eye-level with you, his hands still resting gently on your thighs. “We’ve done this countless times before.”

“I know, but that was years ago. Things feel different now… like there’s more at stake, maybe?” You let out a sigh. “It’s silly.”

“It’s not silly,” he reassures you. He soothes the skin behind your thighs. “But you don’t need to feel self-conscious with me. You’re beautiful, and I just want you to feel as good as you make me feel.”

If he keeps talking to you like that, there’s no doubt you’ll end up giving him your heart on a silver platter by the end of this. He shifts lower down your body. “We can go as slow as you want,” he continues, pressing a kiss to the inside of your thigh, then another. “Just tell me what you need.”

You take a deep breath as his soft stubble grazes your skin. “I need you.”

“Then you’ll have me.”

You watch with heavy lids as he drags his lips along your skin until he presses the most tender kiss on your cunt. He really wasn’t lying when he said he could go as slow as you want because every kiss is achingly gentle, barely more than a feather-light touch. It’s the kind of softness that makes you writhe beneath him, and before you know it, your fingers are tangling in his curls while your hips buck against his face.

There’s a slight vibration on your skin—it could be his laughter, or maybe just a hum of contentment—but you don’t bother deciphering it. You’re too lost in the sensation as his tongue breaches your folds. You peer down and watch as he trails the tip of his tongue through your wetness, slowly tracing up and down your slit until he flicks it against your clit.

You’re honestly gone after that. You’re not surprised, though. If there’s one thing Spencer Reid is good at, it’s knowing exactly how to use his mouth. Sure, he’s a bona fide genius who spouts off random facts and quotes obscure literature, but his mouth? His mouth is a whole different level of expertise. It’s almost unfair how good he is. It’s like he’s studied you, memorized every little thing that makes you go crazy, and now he’s putting all that knowledge to devastatingly good use.

And it’s not like he’s doing it just for your pleasure. It brings him the same deep satisfaction. His eyes are closed, and he seems to lose himself in the act, savoring every taste, every reaction, every subtle shift of your body beneath him. It’s as though he’s completely immersed in finding an almost insatiable need to drink in everything about you. His tongue delves deeper, swirling around your entrance before sucking gently on your folds, pulling the soft skin into his mouth.

You find yourself pressing his head closer to your heat. His eyes flickers up to you. “You’re back.” Your response is simply another push of his head. “Oh. Needy, are we now?”

"Mhm," you manage to squeak out, feeling a rush of wetness seeping out of you. He leans in, his tongue catching a bead of moisture before it drips further, dragging it between your slick folds.

Your grip in his hair tightens.

“Spencer…”

“I know, I know,” he murmurs, his lips curling into a smile before his mouth descends again, this time focusing on your clit. His tongue flicks over the sensitive nub before he gently sucks, pulling it into his mouth with a slow rhythm that has you gasping. Each motion is perfectly timed and you feel yourself growing even wetter under his attention. His tongue swirls, then flattens before he sucks a little harder.

It doesn’t take long for you to feel that familiar coil in your stomach. The pleasure builds steadily, the tension winding tighter and tighter until it slowly overwhelms you. Spencer seems to sense it too, his hands gripping the back of your thighs a little tighter, pushing them further apart as he continues with unwavering focus. He’s not rushing, though, he’s savoring it, but his slow motion is enough to make you snap.

Your hips jerk against his mouth, and he doesn’t miss a beat, holding you steady as he continues his ministrations. He’s relentless in his gentleness, coaxing every ounce of pleasure from you, even as you’re left gasping for air. When you finally come down from the high, Spencer finally lifts his head and places a final, soft kiss on your inner thigh.

“Do you still feel self-conscious now?”

It takes you a moment before you can answer. You smile lazily at him. “Not after that.”

He grins and pulls you up into a sitting position. “Do you think you can give me another one?”

“Spencer,” you breathe out. “Even if you gave me thousands of orgasms, I’d probably ask for more.”

The laugh he lets out is warm and infectious, the sound vibrating through you in a way that makes you smile even wider. “Well,” he starts, slipping his hand down your thigh. “The human body is capable of experiencing multiple orgasms in a relatively short period of time, especially for women. So technically, you could keep asking for more, and I could keep giving them.”

“Even up to a thousand?”

“Maybe not to that extent.” He pulls you close, and you lean your weight against him. “Hold on to me.”

You do as you’re told and somehow you find yourself in a new position. When he spreads your legs apart, your senses go on high alert again. “Spence?”

He kisses your cheek, your jaw, then the corner of your mouth. “Try to relax.”

A gasp escapes your lips as his fingers dive between your thighs. Try to relax? Try to relax? Men and their audacity to tell you what to do, especially when they're the reason you're so wound up in the first place. Because how are you supposed to relax when his fingertips are brushing ever so gently over your clit? How are you supposed to calm your breathing when he’s spreading your arousal up and down your folds?

And how are you supposed to keep your composure when he suddenly fills you with, not one, but two of his fingers?

You feel yourself slipping and he tightens his other arm around your waist. “Told you to hold on.”

He’s starting to annoy you, but you listen to him and bury your face in the crook of his neck. You take a deep breath as he starts to move his fingers. Soap, you decide. It must be his soap, because he smells clean and crisp, almost like fresh linen and a hint of something peppery. It’s almost distracting if it weren’t for the way his fingers are curling inside of you.

Then you feel that sensation again, the kind that ripples through every nerve of your body. At first, it’s manageable, an intensity you think you can handle. But when he suddenly changes his technique, everything shifts. His entire hand moves in a fast, up-and-down motion that catches you completely off guard, and before you know it, you’re whining, your grip tightening on him as your head falls on his shoulder.

The rapid pace makes your head spin. It feels like he’s pulling the control right out of your hands, leaving you questioning your own limits. You’ve seen yourself getting wet, you’ve felt yourself become drenched before, but you’ve never experienced anything like this. You never realized your body could produce this much liquid. It’s not an overwhelming amount, but more than you’ve ever seen from yourself, and it splatters against his hand, dripping down your thighs.

He doesn’t stop, doesn’t even flinch when your nails claw into his shirt. He keeps going, and going, and going, until the only thing you hear is your rapid breathing against his neck and the slick, wet sounds he’s coaxing out of you. You’re overwhelmed (in the best way, of course) but you can’t stop yourself from cursing as the sensation intensifies, multiplies even.

It's not until your body starts to go limp that he finally takes pity on you. He slows down, his fingers pumping lazily inside you. “Good?”

“How did you—when did you—” you exhale a long breath. “I can’t feel my legs.”

He slowly withdraws his fingers out, only to rub your essence over your puffy clit, and your hips jerk once more before he finally stops. You're a trembling mess once you sink into the mattress.

“I don’t think I’ve seen you do that before.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever done that in my life.” Your eyes suddenly feel incredibly heavy that you can't resist letting them flutter close.

He kisses the tip of your nose. “Still up for another one?”

You peer through one eye, and when you catch him starting to undress himself, your other eye shoots open. The nod you give him is eager. His smile widens as he shrugs off his shirt, and you can’t help but let your gaze drop to the line of hair trailing down his stomach. You wonder what it would feel like under your tongue.

"Wait."

Your eyes snap back up to meet his. "What?"

His face twists into a grimace. “I don’t have a condom.”

Shit. Neither did you.

You roll onto your side, propping yourself up on one elbow and resting your head in your hand. “And you’re realizing this just now?”

“I was too focused with you."

And by that, he means giving you the most intense orgasm of your life. You watch as his fingers hover over his belt. “You really didn’t think of bringing one when you decided to come over?”

“My intention coming here wasn’t exactly for this.”

“Well, it would be great if you at least considered the possibility." You study his face and blurt out the first thing on your mind, “I don’t want to stop.”

He shifts his weight on the bed. “Me neither.”

“I mean… we could have sex without using one. We’ve done it before. Once.”

He recalls what you're referring to and lets out an amused laugh. “Are you sure? Didn’t you freak out when you realized your period was late?”

“That was a coincidence! I was stressed out at that time, but I’m safe now—I think.” You pause, brows furrowing as you start calculating your cycle in your head. “Yeah, I’m pretty sure I’m not ovulating.”

“Pretty sure?”

You give him a look. “No, I’m actually sure. I know my body, and I’ve done the math. See?” You gesture vaguely, as if the numbers and facts are floating in front of you. “No ovulation in sight.”

The corners of his mouth twitches into a smile. “Alright then,” he murmurs, and leans down to plant a soft kiss on your lips. “No ovulation in sight.”

“None,” you confirm before tugging his belt. “Can you please take off your pants now?”

He complies—with incredible speed—and when he’s finally as naked as you, your mouth waters at the sight of him. His cock is painfully hard, thick, with a bead of arousal glistening at the tip. You try to reach for him, but he has other plans. He crawls over your body and slips between your legs. He then grips the back of your thigh with one hand, pulling it up slightly to open you to him, while the other holds himself from the base.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

The moan you let out is lewd. “Fuck, Spencer.”

An airy laugh slips out from him as he rubs the head of his cock around your clit. “So needy.”

You wiggle your hips. “Hurry up.”

He only hums in response, before easing his hips back just enough to drag his swollen tip through your slick outer lips. The underside of his cock splits your folds open with each stroke, and your head is spinning. It’s almost sweet how he’s taking this slow, but at this point, you’re so close to just shoving him inside you. You let out a frustrated whine when he pulls back, only to thrust forward just enough for the head of his cock to nudge at your entrance.

Your walls squeeze around him.

“O-Oh…” His mouth falls open slightly as he stares down at where your bodies meet. “I… I don’t remember you being this tight.”

You follow his gaze, watching the way your outer lips swallow him inch by inch. “I-It’s been a while.”

He pushes further, and your nails dig into his shoulders as he stretches you in a way that feels almost too much, and you can't help but tense when he thrusts further. He wraps your leg around his waist before leaning down, propping his weight on his elbows.

“Need you to relax,” he murmurs, his lips ghosting over the pulse fluttering wildly in your neck. You do as he says. Breathe in, breathe out. Clench, unclench. And then you feel him easing inside you, oh-so-deliciously slow, until you squeak out a gasp when he finally fills you completely.

Because fuck, he stretches you—wrenches you open, and you’re consumed by his heat, the pressure, the sheer size of him. It overwhelms your senses, and all you can do is sing out a filthy moan. He follows your tune with a melody of his own, though his voice trembles, sounding more like he’s in pain as if he’s trying to hold himself back.

“You’re so warm,” he groans, his breath hot against your skin. “You okay?”

You nod and wrap an arm around his shoulders. “More than okay.”

“Do you think I can move?”

“Please.”

There’s no hesitation in the way he pulls back, only to sink into you again. His hips roll against yours in a way that feels both achingly slow and unhurried, like he’s savoring every second to memorize the way you feel around him. It’s like he can’t quite believe this is happening, that you’re giving him the chance to be tangled up with you in this position again.

And truthfully, neither can you.

But here you are, two bodies moving in perfect harmony, intertwined in the most primal, human way. Flesh against flesh, breath against breath. Even your heartbeats sync in the same rhythm. The world beyond seems to dissolve, leaving nothing but the pull of desire that draws you deeper into the moment, into him, until the boundaries of where you end and he begins blur into something undefinable.

It’s nonexistent. You’re glued to him, fused in a way that feels as if this is exactly where you belong.

No more running away, you decide.

“Kiss me.”

He’s in no position to decline, and within a heartbeat, he captures your lips in the sweetest kiss—well, as sweet as it can go. Because even though he tastes like honeyed warmth, his hips continue to pound into you, hitting that deep, tender spot inside. You whine against his lips. A needy, breathless sound that has him faltering for just a second, his hips stuttering against yours.

“You feel so—” he chokes on his words. “God, you’re so perfect.”

You’re perfect, you want to say, but you stop yourself, biting down on the words before they escape. It’s not that you don’t believe it. You just can’t bring yourself to admit it out loud. Not yet. Instead, your need wins out, pushing past everything else.

“More,” you gasp between shallow breaths.

He rests his forehead against yours. “Yeah? You want me to go faster?”

You whine in approval.

The instant he pulls back, his tip barely teasing your entrance before slamming into you again, a sharp gasp escapes your lips. He repeats the motion. Once. Twice. By the third time, he doesn’t hold back, driving his hips hard and fast, the wet sound of your bodies slapping together echoing off the walls.

You turn into a putty mess. You can barely think, let alone form words, your mind clouded with nothing but the feeling of him—inside you, around you. Your whole world narrows down to this moment, to the way he fills you so perfectly. His forehead stays pressed against yours the whole time, his lips hovering above yours he murmurs, “Tell me if it’s too much.”

But it’s not. It’s everything. Maybe even not enough. “I…” you gasp when a certain angle from him hits a deep spot inside you. “Oh, Spencer… harder, p-please.”

He’s more than happy to oblige.

He shifts slightly, then snaps his hips forward with a sudden, forceful thrust. He repeats the motion. Over and over again. His pace is relentless now, and he starts to pant, his breath coming in sharp, ragged bursts, every exhale brushing against your lips. There’s a tension in his body, a taut strain in muscles, but he doesn’t stop. He can’t stop. And you can’t help but moan softly into his mouth, swallowing each of his gasps as his control starts to slip away.

“Where do you want—” His voice falters. “Can I—inside—”

You nod frantically. “Yes. Yes.”

It’s enough to push you both over the edge.

The sensation starts as a gentle warmth in your fingertips, slowly winding its way through your body. It weaves through your limbs, spirals up your spine, before gathering intensely at your core. You’re shaking, trembling, and you instinctively reach out for something to ground yourself. One hand threads into his curls, the other clutches his jaw.

Then it happens. His cock moves in a frantic rhythm, sending you spiraling deeper into intense pleasure for the third time tonight. Your inner walls tighten around him as your orgasm crashes through you, gripping him so tightly that it pulls a raw, breathless groan from his lips. He slams into you with uneven thrusts as he presses your body flat onto the bed, until he stops and shudders, spilling hot, white liquid deep inside you.

You don’t think you’ve ever felt something this intense before—not even with him in the past. Every inch of your body is buzzing as his warmth spreads through you, reaching places you didn’t even know existed. You cling to him, your nails softly grazing his back as he finally lets out a satisfied hum, his lips moving to pepper kisses along your face.

He starts with your left cheek. Two gentle kisses. He moves to your right, giving a light peck that lingers just a moment longer, almost as if he’s blowing a warm breath against your skin. You giggle as the air tickles you. Then finally, he settles on your lips with a sigh that merges into a kiss. It’s soft, sweet, and tenderly slow.

You let out another laugh when he finally pulls away.

“What?”

His curls fall messily on his forehead and you reach up, brushing it back. “You’re starting to grow on me.”

He quirks an eyebrow. “I grow on you?” You simply nod. “Like fungus?”

Your fingers pause in his hair. “Like what?”

"You know, fungus. It grows on things. Like mold or mushrooms,” he explains and gives you a smile. "Am I growing on you like that?"

You’ve been apart for so long that you almost forgot how his brain works. His unexpected comparison sparks your amusement, so you decide to humor him. “Depends on what kind of mushroom you are.”

He looks thoughtful for a while. “There's this mushroom called mycorrhiza. It forms a symbiotic relationship with trees and helps them grow by improving water and nutrient absorption."

“And that makes you what, exactly?”

“Essentially indispensable.”

“So you’re claiming you’re good for me?”

A slow, confident grin spreads across his lips. “I’m saying I’m exactly what you need.”

You burst out laughing. Your cheeks might actually ache from smiling this much. “That was pretty smooth.”

He looks incredibly pleased with himself. Then after a quiet moment, he buries his face in the curve of your neck. You close your eyes, feeling the rise and fall of his chest against yours, and a sigh escapes your lips. It’s like all the time you spent apart melts away in that single breath, and something inside you relaxes, as if he’s managed to sneak back into the parts of you you’d forgotten existed.

Maybe he is right. Maybe, after all this time, he’s exactly what you need.

You wake up to the sound of clatter. It’s loud, jarring, and it echoes around the house. You stir in bed, stretching your limbs before tensing when you feel something poking your back. Your hazy mind immediately snaps into alert, and you open your eyes fully, glancing toward the window. Sunlight is already pouring into the room, far too bright for how early you thought it was.

You quickly turn over to the other side.

“Spencer. Spencer!” you hiss, shaking his shoulders urgently. “Wake up! We overslept!”

He groans softly but doesn’t move. Another loud clatter bounces off the walls, and your heart pounds wildly in your chest.

“Spencer,” you whisper sharply, eyes widening. “I think Matt is home.”

That finally gets his attention. He blinks his eyes open. “Wha—?”

You’re already halfway out of bed, rushing to the window to peek through the curtains. Sure enough, you spot your brother’s car parked in the driveway. “Yep, he’s here,” you mutter under your breath, the panic rising as you turn back to Spencer. “And now he’s going to kill us.”

“He’s not going to kill us,” he mumbles, but even by his voice, you can tell he’s not entirely convinced. You watch as he finally slips out of bed, scrambling to pick up his clothes scattered across the floor. “We talked about this last night. It’s not going to be as bad as you think.”

You shoot him a look before quickly pulling on your own clothes.

“There’s a big difference between telling him, and him finding out that his sister is sleeping with his friend while he was away taking care of his wife and baby.” You yank your shirt over your head. “In his freaking house.”

When you put it that way, Spencer’s heart sinks a little. Although Matt isn’t a violent person, he has twice the muscle he does, and it’s not hard to imagine him being a lot less forgiving in a situation like this. He can’t help but picture the worst-case scenario even though Matt’s always been the reasonable type.

Until now, maybe.

“Do you think I should climb out the window?”

You stare at him in disbelief. "Spencer, you’re not sixteen.”

“Actually, I’ve never been in a situation like this,” he admits, pulling up his pants. “My biggest concern when I was sixteen was getting my first PhD.”

You forgot how ridiculously smart he is. Smarter than most people, definitely smarter than you. “Well now you’re getting firsthand experience.” You start pacing around the room. “Let’s just try to stay calm.”

“That’s kind of hard to do when your brother could walk in while I’m half-naked.”

You look at him in horror. “Then put your damn shirt on!"

Before he can reply, there's a noise from outside the room—a quick shuffle of steps, light and rapid, as if someone’s rushing down the hall. You barely have time to react before the door is wrenched open.

But it's not your brother.

It's far worse.

You feel your stomach drop when your eyes lands on the small figure of your nephew, standing there with wide eyes. His gaze shifts back and forth—from you, disheveled and clearly flustered, to Spencer, whose bare back is facing the door, still fumbling with his pants. From little Jake's point of view, it must look like the most confusing sight, because he quickly retreats, bolting down the hallway.

“Dad! Help! There’s a strange man in Auntie’s room!”

You don’t know whether to laugh or panic. The fact that Jake didn’t recognize Spencer without his usual suit is almost comical. You glance at him, noticing how his body has tensed, his back straightening in alarm.

“Who was that?” he whispers, turning to you with wide eyes.

"Jake.” You blow a strand of hair that falls across your face. “Who apparently thinks you're an intruder."

The blood seems to drain from his face. “He didn’t recognize me?”

Your eyes flick over his appearance—his wild, tangled hair sticking out in all directions, bare chest still slightly flushed from sleep, and pants barely zipped. “Not when you look like this, no.”

But before he can respond, you hear the unmistakable sound of footsteps echoing down the hallway, heavier this time.

Your heart leaps into your throat.

“Shit.”

“I should have climbed out the window.”

The idea of him dangling from the window is even more absurd. You glance toward the door. "Okay, wait here. Let me talk to Matt first." Your eyes flicker to his bare chest again, and you let out the most exasperated sigh. "And please, for the love of God, put on your shirt."

You don’t have time to wait for his response as you rush out of the room, quickly closing the door behind you. You take a second to catch your breath, trying to compose yourself, when a noise down the hallway draws your attention. Only then do you notice Matt cautiously advancing towards your way, his back against the wall.

That’s when you spot the gun in his hand.

“Seriously?” you hiss, staring at him in disbelief. “What the hell, Matthew!”

He looks at you, equally surprised. “Jake said there was a strange man in your room!” he replies defensively, tightening his grip on the weapon. “What was I supposed to think?“​

Your eyes shift toward your nephew, who’s peeking around the corner, his little head barely visible as he watches the scene unfold. This is definitely not how you expected your morning to go. A simple, awkward conversation was one thing, but having to disarm your brother while explaining this mess was an entirely different level.

“There’s no intruder, Matt. Put the gun down.”

He looks past you, his eyes zeroing in on the closed bedroom door. “Then who’s in there?”

You bite the inside of your cheek. There’s no easy way to explain this. How do you even start? That Spencer is standing half-naked in the guest room, trying to gather his dignity after being mistaken for an intruder by a six-year-old? You never thought you'd have to introduce Spencer to your brother this way, in his own house, under these chaotic circumstances.

You can feel Matt's eyes boring into you, waiting for an answer. All you can think is how ridiculous this all must look, and how there's no good way to smooth over the fact that, yes, Spencer Reid, his friend slash teammate, is behind the door. And the most absurd part? A part of you is more worried about the look on Matt's face than the fact that he's holding a gun.

“Please don’t be mad.”

You hold your breath as you slowly reach for the doorknob. You push the door open and let out a small, relieved sound when you see Spencer fully dressed, looking almost presentable, except for the wild hair that refuses to settle. He gives you a small nod before stepping out of the room.

“Uncle Spencer?” Jake’s small voice cuts through the tension. Matt’s gaze darts between you two, his jaw tightening as he puts the pieces together. You can see the moment realization hits him full force.

“Reid?” Matt’s voice is incredulous, bordering on betrayed. “What the hell is going on?”

“I can explain,” you say cautiously. “It’s not exactly how it looks.”

“Not exactly how it looks?” Matt echoes, his eyes narrowing at you, then shifting back to Spencer. “You’re in my guest room looking like you just rolled out of bed—”

“Fully clothed now,” Spencer cuts in quickly, which only earns him a frown from Matt.

“Not helping,” you mutter under your breath, shooting Spencer a look before turning back to your brother. “Fine, it’s exactly how it looks like. So… uh, surprise?”

You watch so many emotions flashing in his eyes. Matt’s always been a good brother. Sometimes annoying, but always reliable. He doesn’t usually get angry at you—quite the opposite, actually. He’s calm, level-headed, and more prone to offering advice than raising his voice. But now? The frustration is clear in his eyes.

He’s not mad exactly, but he’s definitely not happy either.

“Surprise?” Matt repeats, his voice flat. His gaze flick back to Spencer, who’s now shifting his weight awkwardly beside you. “This is how you decided to tell me?”

“Okay, it’s not how we planned it, obviously.”

“Clearly,” he deadpans. You put on the best innocent face you can muster.

You put on the best, innocent-looking face you can muster.

“Maaatttt,” you try again, deciding to use a different approach by being cute this time. “Don’t be so harsh.”

To your relief, it actually works on him, like it usually does whenever you try to charm your way out of trouble. His tough exterior falters because, no matter what, you’re still his baby sister. His face softens for a moment, shoulders dropping as he lets out a sigh.

“I’m not mad, okay? But I am your brother. And you,” he adds, pointing at Spencer. “You’re supposed to be my friend. I feel like I should’ve known about this before… well, before finding you like this.” Your shoulders slumps at his words. “How long has this been going?”

Now that is a tricky question. Explaining that you and Spencer occasionally had sex five years ago definitely isn’t something your brother needs to hear right now—or ever, really. You can almost feel Spencer tense beside you, probably having the same thought.

You clear your throat. “Last night.”

"Last night?" Matt looks at you as if you’re crazy. It might be the most disapproving look he’s ever given to you. "You're telling me this just started last night?"

"But—" you quickly add, holding up a hand to stop his train of thought. "We’ve been talking for a while, it’s not like it happened out of nowhere. Last night was just the first time we decided to actually do something about it."

“Right under my roof?” Matt’s brows pinches upward. “You lied about having a headache, didn’t you?”

“Wait, you had a headache? Why didn’t you tell me?”

You’re not sure you can handle two men pestering you at the same time. You focus on your brother instead.

“Look, we didn’t plan anything yesterday. Things just… happened,” you say, trying to explain without making it sound worse than it already does. “But it’s not only about last night. For what it’s worth, we were planning to tell to you. Just not like this.”

Your brother cocks an eyebrow. “So this isn’t a one-time thing?”

Spencer doesn’t hesitate. “God, no,” he says. You feel an arm snake around your waist. “I care about her. A lot.”

Matt stares at Spencer for a long moment, his face a mixture of frustration, concern, and something else. Acceptance, maybe. He looks back at you. “Is this what you want?”

You feel Spencer’s grip tighten on your waist. He’s also waiting for your answer.

“It’s what I want.”

Spencer’s thumb brushes over you as Matt lets out a long breath, his grip on the gun finally relaxing. “This feels weird.”

“In a good way?”

“In a bizarre kind of way.” Matt’s falls falls on Spencer again. “I’m still trying to process this, but if you hurt her—”

“I won’t,” Spencer promises. “I swear.”

“Good, because you know I can put you back to prison if you do.”

Oh, he knows. Spencer understands exactly what he means, after all, Matt was one of the few people who helped clear his name during one of the most horrific moments of his life. Even if there’s a slight jab in his words, Spencer can tell he’s being dead serious. Especially with that gun still attached to his grip.

You, on the other hand, are hearing this for the first time. “Wait, what?” you blurt out. “Prison? You went to prison?”

Spencer merely shrug. Matt finally lowers his weapon, shaking his head as if he can’t quite believe this is happening. “I need coffee,” he mutters, turning toward the kitchen.

“Wait…” Jake finally peeks out from behind the wall. You blink your eyes, forgetting he’s even there. “Does this mean Uncle Spencer is your boyfriend now?”

You feel three pair of eyes on you. Matt’s gaze is sharp. Spencer’s expression is cautious. And then there’s Jake, looking up at you with the straightforward curiosity only a child can have. To him, things are simple. Either you are, or you aren’t, and in hindsight, it really is a straightforward question. But nothing about this situation has been straightforward.

You look at Spencer for a fraction of a second. You can see the nervous hope reflected in his eyes. Maybe Jake’s question isn’t just his… maybe it’s Spencer’s too.

And sure, maybe it doesn’t have to be so complicated. Maybe it really is as simple as saying—

“Yes.” You can feel your heartbeat in your ears. “I suppose he is.”

If you’ve ever seen Spencer being happy, it pales in comparison to this. His eyes light up, and he looks at you like you’re the only person in the world. A genuine, almost boyish smile spreads across his face as you feel his warmth seep into your skin. There’s so much affection in his gaze it makes your chest tighten. He’s not just happy. He’s beaming.

Matt clears his throat awkwardly. “Come on, kiddo, let’s grab what your mom needs and get back to the hospital.” He glances back at you. “You guys coming?”

You nod absentmindedly. “Sure.”

He throws you both a look. Not hateful, but definitely not warm either. You see him grip his gun from the corner of your eye, more out of habit than necessity, before steering his son away with a firm hand on his shoulders.

“That went better than expected,” Spencer mutters the moment your brother is out of earshot.

“‘It’s not going to be as bad as you think’,” you mock, reciting the words he said to you half an hour ago.

“It wasn’t.”

“Spencer, he held a gun.”

“He thought I was an intruder. I would’ve done the same thing,” he points out, his tone surprisingly calm as he holds you by your waist. “Relax, okay? He’ll come around us. Eventually.”

“You’re awfully optimistic about this.”

“He likes me.”

He does have a point. Matt has always had a soft spot for Spencer, but you’re not sure how far that can go after what just happened. “I think you might have lost a few brownie points today.”

He considers the truth in your words. “Maybe,” he admits with a shrug. “But at least I earned a few with you.”

“Because of the boyfriend thing?” He’s grinning so wide that his eyes practically disappear into crescent moons. You poke the slightest dimple on his cheek. “Don’t act so smug. I’m still trying to process the fact that I’m dating an ex-felon.”

“I was framed,” he explains, and the way he says it so nonchalantly only deepens your confusion. He tries to smooth your frown with a kiss. “I’ll tell you everything on our first date.”

“Who said I’ll go on a date with you?”

“You will,” he simply says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“And what makes you so sure?”

Because he’s always been sure. The man who doubts everything, who overanalyzes every situation, looks at you with a certainty that makes your heart swell. You’ve seen that look before—the one that says he’s considered every possible outcome and decided this is the one that matters most. There’s something magnetic about it, the way he seems to know exactly what he wants, and right now, it’s you.

“Because I’m your mushroom.”

He’s so silly, yet there’s something so perfectly Spencer about it that makes the idea of not going on a date with him feel impossible. You shake your head, unable to suppress your smile.

“You’re ridiculous,” you mutter, but the warmth in your chest tells you he’s already won your heart.

And you don’t mind him keeping it.

[hoshifighting]

omg omg knf i’m low-key feeling like a genius.

bb do you know that trend on tiktok where the bridesmaids give the husband naughty polaroids of the bride throughout the celebration I NEED HUSBAND!SVT REACTIONS TO THIS (u being the bride ofc)

also i’m saying need but if this is smth you don’t want to do feel free to ignore. ily mwah 💋

husband!seventeen reacting to your bridesmaids's giving them naughty polaroids of yours — tik tok trend

seungcheol’s in the middle of chatting with the groomsmen when he gets the envelope. he opens it, glancing down, and immediately freezes. his eyes widen as he realizes what he’s looking at. “you guys can’t just do this to me!” he tries to play it off, but he can’t help but sneak a peek at the photo again.

jeonghan's expression doesn’t change. he just stares at the photo, then looks up at your bridesmaids with a knowing smirk. he slips the picture into his jacket like it’s no big deal, but the second he catches your eye across the room, his smirk turns into a full-on grin. oh, he’s definitely going to tease you about this. “just wait, babe,” he mouths silently, making sure you know he’s got something planned.

joshua’s too polite to expect anything out of the ordinary, so when the envelope is handed to him, he opens it without a second thought. his eyes widen immediately, and his cheeks flush a deep red. “oh my god,” he whispers, quickly closing the envelope and tucking it away, glancing around nervously to see if anyone else saw it. he’s mortified, but there’s a little smile tugging at the corner of his lips. he looks over at you, shaking his head in disbelief.

junhui the second his eyes land on the photo, his brows shoot up, and his mouth falls open. “oh… wow,” he mumbles, trying to hold back the grin creeping up his face. he looks around to make sure no one else can see, quickly stuffing the photo into his suit pocket, but his eyes keep darting back to u. he gives you a playful smirk across the room, biting his lip slightly.

hoshi opens the envelope, sees the photo, and immediately lets out a loud “oh my god!” his eyes go wide, and he’s laughing, blushing like crazy. “seriously? right now?” he says, grinning ear to ear, but he’s clearly flustered. he tries to play it cool, but u can see the blush creeping up his neck.

wonwoo doesn’t say a word—just slips the photo into his jacket, giving the bridesmaids a quiet nod. but there’s a glint in his eyes when he looks over at you. he leans back in his chair, arms crossed, watching you adjusting his glasses, hoping that the dream of them hide his red cheeks.

woozi doesn’t know what’s coming when he takes the envelope, and when he opens it, his reaction is instant. his eyes widen, and his face turns bright red. “what the—” he quickly snaps the photo shut. he’s completely flustered, but he’s also low-key impressed. tries to act like it didn’t faze him, but the blush won’t go away. “you’re lucky it’s our wedding day, or you’d be in serious trouble.”

minghao’s expression barely changes, but you can see the slight quirk of his eyebrow. he glances at the photo, then at your bridesmaids with a knowing smirk. “you girls really think you’re slick, hm?” he says quietly, folding the photo and tucking it into his suit jacket. later, he’ll pull you aside, his voice low and teasing. “you’ve got some nerve doing this at our wedding, but I’m not mad about it.”

mingyu’s curious from the start, wondering what kind of wedding surprise your bridesmaids could’ve cooked up. when he sees the photo, his jaw drops. “no way…” he mutters, blinking like he can’t believe what he’s seeing. he blushes instantly, but his eyes keep drifting back to the photo.

seokmin’s the type to open the envelope with the biggest smile, thinking it’s something cute. but when he sees the photo, his eyes go wide, and he lets out a loud, “holy shit!” before clamping his hand over his mouth. his face turns bright red, and he quickly stuffs the photo back in the envelope.

seungkwan’s expecting a cute, heartfelt note or maybe some kind of sweet wedding surprise, so when he opens the envelope and sees the photo, he gasps. “oh my god, no way,” he mutters under his breath, his face instantly flushing red. he glances around nervously, quickly hiding the photo, but his heart’s racing. “you really had to do this today of all days?”

vernon pauses. his eyes widen slightly, and he lets out a quiet, surprised laugh. “wow… okay,” he mutters, nodding to himself like he’s impressed. he slips the photo back into the envelope, tucking it into his pocket with a smirk.

chan’s face turns beet red as he sees the photo, and he almost drops it. “what the—?! are you serious?” he sputters, eyes wide in shock. then he quickly glances over at you, trying to gauge your reaction. he chuckles nervously, clearly flustered but loving the chaos.

[precious-little-scoundrel]

|| Radio ||

Requested plot points? ☑️

Circa: early February 1944

Immediate previous fic: Favorite Escape

Summary: when your hodge podge radio won’t work, who should ya call? Probably the flight engineer

Warnings: usual universe warnings apply, 18+ but nothing very alarming really happens in this one, references to others are made, some potential slut shaming in the beginning if ya squint? perhaps some queer baiting but it’s the Buckies rolling around on the flooor, they’re one massive queer bait lbr, it’s not me. Also. My shit Crystal Radio making descriptions- don’t come for me I haven’t made one and I spent five hours falling down a rabbit hole as to how the guys made them in the camps and at the end of the day I said: screw it! And went with one of the Brit’s scenarios 🍻

Edited only by my tired little eyes, full warning and have mercy 💋

Also, just a note I feel compelled to make- this fic centers around women in the army, in a war, which they’re spending under dire conditions in a POW camp. Yes there is love here, there is also hierarchy and discipline and the enforcement of that does not make one character or another necessarily callous or less loving. They are their ranks first and foremost as all signed up for.

“They’re forging papers, you know.” Maureen broached the topic to Egan one day, late February and when her cheeks were still bruised from Ida’s book.

Bucky paused his tracing of a map, sooty finger trailing along a river with the same incomprehensible name as its twin running parallel, he didn’t know anything about papers or anyone making them and she knew that. “Who?”

“Good ones. Identification, passports.” She enumerated.

“Who?”

“The Poles. The ones with the-“

“-the liquor.” he finished for her, remembrance and condemnation heavy in his wry tone. “The ones you stayed out all night with.”

“Stayed long enough for them to get drunk enough to show me.”she replied, without heat, which was surprising.

“Some grand plan of yours, huh?” He bit back a laugh, it was a fine way to cover her ass for being insubordinate. It was a way he’d likely try if he was in her place.

“No.” she swore instead. “Just luck, I happened to see them. They got careless. Maybe an answer to all Jack’s prayers.”

“Yeah. Anything to give that rosary a break.”

“Yeah.”

“You asked them?”

“What for?”

Bucky regarded her with thinning patience but something kept him from snapping, the feeling of a riddle still to be solved. “For some papers.” he clarified, measured and intent, she knew how much easier that would make their plans for Ida.

Maureen shook her head, glancing down at her twisting hands, “I didn’t want to-“ her mouth twisted too, “-I wanted to ask a superior first.”

Bucky considered that for a moment, slightly touched at her newfound wisdom, “Why not ask Buck?”

She shook her head again, auburn hair curling under her chin just so, even here in the stalag she had some traces of the old charm. “He’s got too much to worry about for me to be bringing in hypotheticals.” she was so upset by something she would not even meet John’s eye and he felt a slice of remorse for how he hadn’t even noticed the ground down change in her since she got here, his drinking buddy and the soft fleshed rival of merry old English days was a gruff and battered and sullen woman; being a red blooded American male, he regretted that dismal change. “And I'm worried about what to bargain with. What can I promise? We haven’t got much and I don’t have— there’s not much anyway, but what we’ve got I didn’t wanna promise. Not without-“ she still hadn’t met his eye, he tracked hers; a furious roving of pale blue back and forth across the floorboards and it made Bucky itch.

“Who signs these papers?” Bucky asked, thinking the logistics through, knowing she’d perk up if he brought them up.

“Haven’t a clue. Maybe they haven’t figured that part out yet. I don’t know. I just know they’ve got papers.”

“Good ones.”

“Yeah.”

“We haven’t got much.” he agreed, clicking his teeth in thought, “What’d you give them for the liquor?”

“They just invited me.”

“Didn’t have to lend a hand or nothin’?” he balked and Maureen threw him a glare that seemed more hurt than rage, and chastened by a voice inside that sounded much like his mama’s, he amended with sheepish humor, “Hell, feel like lending a hand myself these days, if it’d get me a whisky.”

Her gnarled fist curled white in her lap, she managed hoarsely, “They just wanted to talk about home. To someone who hadn’t heard about it a million times before.”

“They got cigarettes?” he asked.

“As most common payment for their booze -they’ve got enough to insulate their shack three deep.”

“Cigarettes won’t cut it then.”

“I’ve been thinking.”-

“Yeah?”

“The radio. I’m the only one who doesn’t think it’s worth the risk but, I know, it doesn’t matter, it’s happening. Gale’s going to keep trying. And if it works-“ she rubbed at her eyes, tired and unsure, “-that’s quite the bargaining chip.”

Bucky nodded slowly, eyes narrowing as his smile grew a touch broader, “News of the outside world.” he was half in agreement, “Buck asked for a week. Been four days.”

“He’s stumped.” Maureen retorted instantly. “And he’ll stay that way and he’ll go nuts and you’ll go die going over the fence and then he’ll have no reason left not to die too.”

Bucky whistled, low and chiding, “You’re full of rainbows today, Candy.”

“You know who he oughta ask.” she shook off the barb. “But he won’t. And I don’t want him risking it for this thing anymore than anyone else, but you all want it so bad, and they’ll shoot us for it if it works or not. I’m not asking her. But you would. Might as well get shot for it working, right? Isn't that what you said yesterday? You know who he should ask.”

Bucky’s keen eyes showed the moment it dawned on him, his eyebrows shot up and his mouth sagged and he ran a weathered hand over his face, “Awww shit, Candy.” came garbled behind his palm. “Ah shit.” he said again with conviction as he shoved the hand into his pocket, wretched acknowledgment of her point clear on his face.

“I didn’t want to suggest it, told Ida it’s a fucking dangerous thing and I’ll never forgive if— but you all—“

Bucky grounded aloud, “Nah, nah she’s -Lu would solve it.” he muttered, shushing her. “Demarco really pummeled you the other day, huh?” he added, and that got her to meet his eye, she looked spooked and a little incensed, “Saw him fuckin’ you up behind B compound but sheesh, s’like he hollowed you out worse than a jacolantern; yer shifty as hell.”

“He-“ Maureen still felt like blanching at the memory of Benny’s terribly correct opinions, his disappointed eyes and his fist full of her flight jacket asking her what in the living fuck was wrong with her besides a concussion, a sick childhood and an ever nauseating jealousy of Buck Cleven’s paternal time and effort, “-he had some admonitions. After…after the other night.”

Bucky hummed, shitty smirk taking up residence on his face, “How ‘bout that.”

“I’m gonna be better.” she muttered and Bucky felt for her, could almost taste the echo of his identical and hollow determination to climb the mountain of bad habits when weak from spuds and pneumonia. He told himself the same every morning and fell into bed condoning his failure every night, like a ritual.

“You’re gonna get us those papers.” he corrected, shoving off the wall to come near her, give her the full Major treatment and maybe a friendly hand, “And you can promise your drinkin’ buddies news from the radio.”

Maureen nodded in understanding, no joy or animation left in her green eyes. She used to enjoy a bit of subterfuge, now she only felt hollow misery at the thought that she'd dragged Lu into this, too. This risk she hated so much and yet no one cared. Lu would be glad to be dragged in, it’s true, she was itching at the chance to be useful and to make Gale proud, it’s how the girl was wired. It’s how most girls were wired, Maureen supposed, desperate to make Gale Cleven approve. Lu’s enthusiasm wouldn’t make the sight of her being made to kneel in the mud and have a bullet put in her head any easier, wouldn’t make Maureen feel any less responsible for it when her lifeless body thudded to the earth.

All that lovely goodness stamped out.

Over a radio.

Bucky’s hand felt too hard and too big on her shoulder. He had gone before the vision cleared, mud and wire and the freezing main square at Ravensbruck fading back to the musty bunk room. Maureen shook herself and stood up to make herself somehow appealing, reamniante some semblance of the cheerful rashness that had led her to the Polish combine in the first place: she found it hard to inspire. She’d like to count that a victory but she knew better, she wasn’t reformed she was just tired.

A washed face and a fake smile and the promise of news from outside would have to be enough to bank all their risks on, it would have to be.

“Crank,” she greeted the man in the hall, flashing him clean, water brushed teeth and her gentlest, freshly soot lined eyes, “I’ve been tasked by Major Egan with an errand, spare a minute to babysit me?”

__________________________________

Bucky finds Buck Cleven in his own bunkroom, Demarco outside on watch and that’s all Bucky needs to know to guess the radio is out and Buck’s working like a fiend yet again to make it work. Sure enough, he’s hunched over the table with it, mittened hands shaking from cold and exhaustion and a sheen of sweat on his forehead despite the paltry sweater he wears.

Bucky walks in and Gale gives him a soft, acknowledging glance before continuing to his work. Bucky takes up his usual place behind Buck’s left shoulder to watch and Buck, being used to it, goes on.

“My little Kriegie Marconi, huh?” Bucky allows the nagging impulse he has felt for weeks while standing in this position to finally exert itself, and his forefinger lifts and swirls in the curling gold strands of hair at the nape of Gale’s neck, his friend almost bolts away but then seems to choose a prey’s tactic and just stills, goes very still and Bucky scritches the scalp beneath his grab in assurance he don’t meant anything by it. He doesn’t think he does, at least.

Gale, wary and with a voice close to mechanized it’s so stilted, inquires with ever-present politeness, “You alright Bucky?”

It’s better than that whole ‘major’ business; getting called Major as if that meant shit anymore. “Yeah, ‘course I am.” Bucky rakes his fingers through the hairs there at the nape of that dainty neck, scritches the scalp with all four of his main ones, and uncovers a white long scar sliding round once he lifts the hairs there. “Why wouldn’t I be? Gonna be a father soon.”

Buck does jerk then, away from his touch and wheeling his chair around to glare at Bucky; it’s an impressively executed little pirouette and John misses the feel of his warm neck and oil soft hair. “Jesus John.” he reprimands.

“We’re gonna get outta here Buck.” John swears, he’s so sure of it because he cannot in all his thinking and predicting ever imagine a scenario where they don’t, and he chooses to think it’s not delusion but a good omen. “Ida’s gonna have that baby and when it’s safe we’ll all meet up.”

Gale is looking at him like he’s his own father again, Bucky knows that look, it always makes him equal parts ashamed and desperate, “Jus’ like that.” Gale mocks in a husky gust.

It’s devastating, and it’s intended to be, and Bucky could bear that with better humor if he could still touch Gale and his hair. “Just like that.”

Gale hums and it’s a mean sorta vocalization that makes Bucky’s heart thud and his skin prickle hot, it’s the kinda noise you kiss off a person, he thinks, but it’s Buck and so he doesn’t know what to do with it. “It’s gonna get you killed.” Buck is saying instead and Bucky lets him, “I know you all think she’s cracked up and maybe she has but it wouldn’t hurt to listen to Kendeigh sometimes when she’s tellin’ ya shit that a five year old could accurately guess, -goddamn it.”

His voice rose to a strong rage by the end and Bucky takes a chair opposite him, sick of standing there like a dumb dog waiting for his scolding to be over. “So what.” Bucky challenges him, “We just wait around and Brady pops out a child and the krauts let us keep it and it’s our new mascot and we all sing zippidy doo da, huh? Huh, Buck?”

Gale’s hands fell away from his face with a slam to the table, a shocking degree of anger showing for a split second and it gave Bucky an odd degree of gratification. “I jus’ want you to find a plan with better odds.”

Bucky sniffed and leaned forward, went in for the kill and Gale was looking at him like he expected it, like it was his turn to play daddy to everyone here and Gale for once was so beaten down he wouldn’t just allow the changing of the guard, he was close to angry at its lateness. It made Bucky’s heart thud.

“I’ve been listening to Kendeigh.” Bucky refuted briefly, “And we’ve got a plan.” Gale gave him a tired look of encouragement to go on, “How long’s it been since you slept? Huh, well, we got a plan. Practically perfect, or it will be, just need the radio.”

“Ain’t giving this away.” Gale said, “Not for anythin’, even useless.”

Bucky patted the table top in easy assurance, if he could have reached Buck’s thigh, he’d have patted that instead, “No, no, don’t need to give it away, just need it to work. So,” he softened his voice and his eyes tightened, “I’m callin’ Lu in.”

Oddly, Gale does not fight it. Not aloud, at least. There’s an anguished look of hate on his face and Bucky mirrors it. It’s for this place and the fucking awful choices they have to choose from every goddamn day.

“You run this by Ida?” is all he asks.

Bucky pops his flaking lips audibly, “What, need us both gangin’ up on you to agree? She’ll sign off. Smith’s an officer. Gotta remember that sometimes, Buck.”

The way his Buck swallows hard and dry contradicts his words, “I do remember that.”

“Really?” Bucky’s mouth gives a soft smile of doubtful incredulity and Gale’s mimics it, mournful but a smirk all the same, “Feel like she should answer to ‘Gale’s Baby’ these days. Lieutenant Smith who?”

Gale scoffs, “Careful now.”

“No really, she’s an officer and she wants to be treated like one. It’ll do her good to have work. Her kinda work.”

“Could get her killed.”

“Layin’ in her bunk could do that.”

Gale grunts, its sounds like an agreement.

“So I say Lieutenant Smith gets put on radio detail. Like her goddamn job description suggests. Huh, yeah?”

“Yeah.” Gale lets out a shaky agreement.

“Aaaaand,” Bucky draws it out as he rises again and saunters over to Buck who is ready for him and loose this time, “how bout I go back to bein’ the one you’re frettin’ ‘bout all the time. Got me almost jealous of the girl. How ‘bout I do. Huh?”

Gale’s scoff is fond as anything as he looks up at John with cheerful derision, “And you ‘bout to be a father? Make me an old man? Fuck no, ya looney.”

“Alright.” Bucky concedes with hands up in surrender before lurching forward and grasping Gale’s rickety chair back by its wobbly spokes and hefting it partially off the ground, beautiful and outraged prude of an occupant still seated in it, “Then I’ll play daddy and put you to bed, how ‘bout that.”

“John Egan for fucks sake-“ Gale’s fists pounded on the meat of his shoulders and his outraged protests wafted against Bucky’s neck and his jabbing knees collided with the meat of his thighs and Bucky hadn’t felt so close to him or so happy to be alive since England.

“Major sir, the hell is goin’ on?” Demarco’s tame inquiry from the safety of the doorway made them both lose their grapple and they collided together onto the floor, bunk bed barely missed by their heads and the hapless chair mixed up between their limbs.

Bucky grinned, hip sore from his fall and kidneys suffering from Buck’s trapped elbow there, “Puttin’ Goldilocks to bed.” he replied.

DeMarco processed that and the scene before him with grave sobriety before saluting lazily and turning to go, “Right on, sir.”

John did his best to rise up without further pinching Gale who was indeed trapped beside him and beneath him, chair legs wound between a lanky human leg in a puzzle that Bucky realized might take some caution to untangle without harm. Strangely, Buck wasn’t moving, he was just looking up at him like a cat would their clumsy master who has done somethin’ stupid which was a surprise to neither. It was so innocuous a look and so nostalgic, it winded Bucky with the realization he hadn’t seen it in ages, just as he hadn’t felt his boney ribs against his own and the feel of his elegant hands yanking him around in a fight. This miserable place really was stomping out the glow in the best people.

“Ya know Buck,” he ventured, clearing his throat for extra casualness, “I’ve missed you.” When Gale only kept looking up at him, perfect porcelain face with its unsettling scars and wary eyes without a lick of storm in them, John Egan grabbed his shovel and dug his own grave a little deeper, drug a finger down his cheek. “Missed all this.”

Bucky didn’t know what he meant by “this” but it felt safer and worse all at once, since he did miss Buck but he and Buck never used to hang out on floors with a chair as chaperone. Mercifully, Buck neither points that out nor moves away, acting very much like he needed to heaped on the floor with Bucky and a stray chair every bit as much as John did. Like it’s doing him good.

“And you couldn’t’ve jus’ said.” Gale murmurs with the softest eye roll of the century and Bucky feels like beaming and it must show in his face so strong and bright after a sunless winter that after a flash Gale’s cheeks flame from it and he averts his eyes.

“I dunno Buck, could I?” Egan asks one blushing cheek and Gale hasn’t got a good reply for that, so they just lay there on the floor.

“Go on now, get off me.” Gale doesn’t shove at him, he presses his hand to John’s forehead like he would a dog and John goes, obedient as one.

———————————————————————-

They found Lu with Murph and Benny and Brady, measuring out what seemed to be lot lines between Love Shack #9 and the next combine, boot scuffed perimeters already visible in the light snow and drawn in a decently tidy rectangle. There were guards loitering nearby, nosey as always with their cigarettes and their antsy dogs anytime someone did something out there besides piss or pace or stare at the fence.

“What’s all this?” Bucky inquired cheerfully, coming up to them with Gale, bundled and shivering behind him.

Benny looked up from tilling a furrow with his boot, right where Lu’s mittened finger pointed out. “It’s for the garden. S’posed to be spring before long.”

“A Chicago man oughta know better, Benny.” Egan snarked.

“Need us?”

Bucky sniffed, a casual set to his body that belied his quest, “Just the little one.”

Smith promptly looked startled, then eager. “All well Majors?”

“Need your advice on the color of my cufflinks with this suit.” Bucky extended his arm and beckoned her, “C’mon back in for a minute. One of you too, need a watch to go with the cufflinks.”

———————————————————————

With Benny on guard, Brady and Kendeigh having excavated the radio’s shell from the floorboard and table leg in which it resided, the Buckies stood over Smith’s small frame as she sat at the table and inspected the simplistic device with keen eyed appreciation for the construct.

“It’s really marvelous.” she assured Cleven, running her fingers over the carefully coiled wire and precarious pin.

Gale didn’t even crack a smile. “What’s wrong with it?” he asked instead.

She shook her head, a frown gathering. “Never made one-“ she cautioned.

“-but you get the idea.”

“Yes sir, I do.”

“So what’s wrong.”

Lu ran her fingers over the wire, again and again, the dusty metal not insulated, just bare copper, likely stripped from somewhere. It reminded her of early days as a cadet when they threw chicken wire mixed with hydraulic lines at herself and her fellow rookie engineers and told them to sort it, testing to see if they knew which was which. It had been so rudimentary she had wanted to laugh until she realized others were being flunked.

This was so basic she was stumped.

“Take your time, Lu.” Bucky spoke up after a burdened pause during which she could almost feel Major Cleven breathing down her neck.

“Candy, can I try with the headphone?” she asked at last, frustrated and out of her element, just a few months out of a plane and she had already lost her touch.

Maureen passed it over and Lu pressed it to her ear, not to discern what was quite obviously radio silence, but to imagine the whole process in reverse, track it down the cord all the way to the base, each possible breakdown of the conduction.

She fingered the ramshackle diode with burgeoning suspicion. “What’s your crystal?”

“That’s just…lead.” Cleven muttered.

“From?”

“Ground pencils.” Bucky supplied cheerfully.

Smith bit her lip, “We need sulfur added. Lead won’t conduct on its own.” She figured Cleven knew that, the grim and unmoving set of his mouth suggested so.

“Just- sulfur?” Maureen asked.

“If I had sulfur we could add it to the lead dust, ignite it and-“ Smith grinned at Kendeigh, knowing that she alone may have shared her enjoyment of a small conflagration from time to time, “burn it down and you’ve got something close enough to Galena. Just need a pinch of it should work.”

Bucky shoved his hands in his pockets and surveyed the mostly morose room. All except for the two girls grinning at each other over the hypothetical of a little chemistry experiment in a highly flammable wooden combine.

“We’ve got sandy soil.” Buck’s contemplative drawl spoke up, “Dunno if we could extract enough pure sulfur.”

Maureen stared back at Egan instead, “Other sectors have gotten portions of kits, chemistry kits, radio kits, they’ve been smuggled in with all sorts of stuff. Inside of a violin, oat bags. Nothing to fully build something. They might have sulfur. I could make inquiries and- well, Jack could pick it up next time the band goes over C compound to entertain the poor Aussie bastards.”

“How do you kno- nevermind, actually. Nevermind.” Bucky broke off, “Alright. Sure, why not. Ya sure that’s it?” he asked Lu once more.

She gave a helpless little shrug. “Gotta be. Or the wire’s dirty. Where’d it come from anyway?”

Gale gave Bucky a long suffering look as Bucky seemed to swell a couple inches and bounce back on his heels at the mention of his scrounging prowess. “The lamp.” he nodded above them all.

Jack Brady scoffed, short, clipped, betrayed, “That why it cuts out all the time? Strobed us so bad last night -thought the room was possessed.”

“Sacrifices Jack, sacrifices.”

———————————————————

Benny had hauled in enough water buckets to elicit some negative attention from the guards, and when the inspection came the inmates of the Love Shack insisted the drenched floors and table of the Majors’ barracks were due to sanitation post regurgitation. At night, with only one stolen torch light from Combine 15 to illuminate the endeavor, a basin of water beneath a smaller bowl in which lay their precious and recently procured ingredients, a science experiment began. The Majors and Ida gathered round, all looking as ghastly and spectral in the light of the flashlight as Brady’s fake ghost. It held the thrill of a bonfire night except for the stakes, which all in the room did their best not to dwell on.

“Zippo, Candy.” Lu gave the word and Maureen, with only the protection of Ida’s bent aviators to keep from a scorched cornea, flicked on her lighter and set the mixed powders ablaze.

It flamed up high and smelly, making Benny gag and mutter something about Meatball’s gas to a tittering Brady, and then died down to a yellow smoking ember.

“We should let it sit.” Lu surmised with a squeeze to Maureen’s only somewhat singed hand, her big dark eyes surveying the burnt bowl and their smoking experiment with glittery excitement at the possibility of success, “Let it cool, settle, maybe strain it. Can you get me a net? Oh Candy come now, get me a strainer?” she begged with a laugh as Maureen rolled her eyes at the idea of yet another trip to the Stalag Market for the most random items imaginable. If they hoped to not be suspicious, they’d need better lies or more money.

“How about cheesecloth?” Kendeigh tried not to grin indulgently- and failed- in the face of Lu and having recently been allowed to set something on fire

Lu kissed her cheek. “Cheesecloth would be perfect.”

In the end, cheesecloth did indeed prove perfect, and amongst the burnt dust of the combined minerals was a gritty little pinch full of the needed crystals. Or so Lu said, Gale agreed but the crease between his brows hadn’t lifted for two days; Bucky’s fingers had begun to twitch in antsy need to manually smooth them out. He imagined Maureen felt the same but she hadn’t said, uncharacteristically forbearant now she had some job to keep her sane. Even if it was playing fetch for Lu.

—————————————————————

“Well, this is it.” Gale muttered when the watch had been set once more, Murph and Hambone on the steps, Crank inside, Brady at the door, Benny at the window. Even Major Clark had joined them in the barracks for this final try and Lu’s cheeks were maroon from the attention even as her deft hands steadily pressed her concoction beneath its intended rod.

“Pass me the pliers, sir?” She asked and for a moment, the teacher became the apprentice and Gale fetched her the stalag forged tool, rudimentary like everything here yet the gripped and pulled and lifted same as the pliers back home. “You could check your look in this wire’s reflection.” She complimented Gale’s buffing of the copper wire.

He shrugged in turn. “Didn't wanna leave anythin’ to chance. That it?” he asked as her hands stalled and she surveyed her work.

Lu nodded solemnly. “Yes sir.”

Gale picked up the headphone from in front of him on the table like it was a gun he was about to bring to his head. “Here.” He extended it to her instead, “S’right, it was your job, you should be the first. Cmon.”

Despite her voiceless protest he pressed the headphones into her hands and Lu, never knowing how to disobey an officer, folded immediately.

For a good ten seconds everyone in the room held their breath as Smith pressed the headphone to her ear and gently wiggled the clothespin along the wire, searching and tuning, her face holding that old peaceful concentration they hadn’t seen since the last mission. She was at home with her mind tuned to another dimension. The pilots in the room knew that look, that was the look of someone at home with something that terrified them all the same, the gut swooping feeling of clearing the take off and sledding along the tops of the clouds. Wrong and strange and utterly incomparable to others, it was the closest to home one’s mind could be. Lu belonged somewhere on those electric currents and searching them out was like finding oneself again.

Then at last, Lu’s eyes sharpened out of their dreamy haze of concentration and she said, gentle as always, “It’s the BBC sir.”

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[soobnny]

no other heart — best friend!kim seungmin x reader ; only one person can ever persuade seungmin to do anything (1.4k words)

happy bday seungmo! you are my favorite person

Seungmin feels Hyunjin before he even sees his face.

He comes in the form of a hand falling firmly on Seungmin’s shoulder, and the first thing the younger boy thinks is that your hands are supposed to be smaller.

The house that they’re in is loud, and really really crowded. It’s a setting that Seungmin doesn’t often take part in, preferring the quiet sounds of his airconditioning back at his room.

There is also a sharp contrast in how the boy favors his music. While he’s currently surrounded by the thrumming of music that beats in his ears, he would rather be at the dorm in the comfort of his lifeline (or, for better words, his collected playlist for the month).

From the corner of his eye, he sees his oldest friend, Chan, talking to a set of faces he’s never seen before. He wonders how the older boy does it. Seungmin has no plans of starting a conversation unlike Chan, not when he’s overstimulated by the flashing lights, and the confusing aromas wafting from the red cups that everyone seems to be holding, and the hand on his shoulder that most definitely is not yours.

“Seungmin, you came!” That’s also definitely not your voice.

“Hyunjinnie.” He breathes out, head muddled by his sudden urge to go home despite just having arrived around half an hour ago. He doesn’t sound as enthusiastic as his friend, but Hyunjin gives the boy a pass. Besides, it’s not everyday you see Kim Seungmin out past 10 in the evening, more less at a party.

Seungmin shifts a little from where he’s standing, just enough for Hyunjin’s hand to fall limp by his side. If you knew him less, you would think he was being rude. However, his indifference does a lot in calming his friend down.

He still has a distaste for parties. At least, this way, Hyunjin knows that no force has taken over Seungmin for his sudden appearance.

“Not to be mean, I’m just genuinely curious. How come you’re he—”

“Seungminnie!”

He shifts his attention to the sound.

There’s your voice, finally your voice, loud and clear to the boy, enough to be heard over the music and the voices and the heat.

There’s a sudden understanding that crosses Hyunjin’s features, and he says something on par with how Seungmin would only ever go to anything if it was you who asked.

“Ah, of course you’re here, (name). That must be why he’s here too.” Hyunjin giggles, sending a wink that looks more like a blink to the both of you before he disappears into the crowd.

Whatever he means.

Hyunjin has always had a knack for being cryptic anyway.

There is no proper greeting when Seungmin finds you, only a flick on your forehead.

“What’s wrong with you,” he says, but there is no grit in his voice. “You asked me to come here, and left me waiting for you for thirty minutes.”

“I was late.” You smile sheepishly, taking his hand in yours before dragging him along the pool of people to lead him outside.

He should be used to it now, the ease in which you link your hands together, as if there’s no need for a warning anymore when you’ve known each other for this long. Still, Seungmin finds it unfair. He needs it, needs the warning before you take his heart hand like this.

“You shouldn’t be asleep on a Friday night like a senior citizen.”

This senior citizen came out all the way here for you, he thinks.

“‘M going home now,” is what he chooses to say.

“No!” You suddenly stop in your tracks, just when you’re about to reach the grassy fields of the backdoor of whoever the hell owned this house.

It makes Seungmin stumble over, feet in a hurry to plant themselves on the ground so he doesn’t crash into you. When you turn to face him with a scolding look on your face, the only thing he can think about is how awfully close you are.

He doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to proximities like these with you. “I’m already here, don’t you want to be with me?”

Seungmin sighs because he does, really does, but not in the way you’re asking right now.

“Plus, there’s supposed to be a comet tonight. I think we’ll be able to see it from here.” Your hand latches back on his, pulling him outside where the cold breeze of the night air greets you.

“There’s been a comet every night since last Wednesday.”

“But the city doesn’t quite get a view of it like this.”

By his fate, because he can never say no to you, he watches the comet falling just as you mention it.

Seungmin supposes you’re right. It is a little nicer out here compared to the light pollution of the city, and there’s a good enough distance between where you are and the painfully loud music of the house, and he doesn’t have to deal with anyone but the one person he cares about.

He chooses not to think about the eventual teasing that’s bound to come his way.

He knows Hyunjin’s spreading word around, that Kim Seungmin is actually here, and his friends already know why.

Because you’re here. What other reason does he need?

And Seungmin supposes he can sacrifice a few hours of sleep. Despite begrudgingly coming here, he doesn’t think he’d be able to trade the way you look right now—with your eyes soft and enchanted, and your features highlighted by the soft glow of the moon, and the small, but fond smile playing at your lips.

“It’s so beautiful.”

“It is.” He’s not looking where you are, and you’re too painfully distracted by the falling comet and the thousand stars blanketing the night sky to notice that he’s only ever looked at you tonight.

“Seungmin?”

His breath hitches when you suddenly turn to him, and there is no other coping mechanism he can think of but clearing his throat and looking anywhere but your eyes.

You take the moment where he’s too distracted to wrap your arms around him.

Seungmin freezes at the contact, the nudge in his heart so visible on his face. It’s a shame you have your head buried on his chest to notice the way he suddenly relaxes, hand gingerly resting on the small of your back for a second before wrapping himself entirely around you.

“Why’re you hugging me all of a sudden?” It sounds like he wants to say more, but he remains hesitant. Instead, he pulls you just a little closer.

“Thanks for coming. I know you hate going out to stuff like this, and I really do feel bad for practically forcing you. But, at the same time, I’m just really happy you came too.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. There’s nothing to feel bad about.”

Fuck, the way he says it is so awkward, and he cringes at himself for feeling this nervous around you. He tries to steady his pulse, tries to stop the rapid way in which his heart beats because he knows you can hear it.

“I stole your sleeping hours, of course I feel bad. Plus you hate parties, and yet you came here anyway.” You loosen your grip to look up at him.

You’re ill-prepared to see the tenderness in which his eyes are looking at you right now. He does that sometimes. You’ve never quite figured out why.

“Because you asked me to.” He tells you, really tries to tell you without saying too much. “I’d do anything if it was you who asked me, stupid girl.”

It feels like more of a realization to himself, and he doesn’t really want you to think about what he means. At least not tonight, not in the same night he’s come to find out just the lengths he would go through for you. His lips are parted like he wants to say more, but he decides against it. Still, his very few words will leave you blushing for the next few days after tonight and strike up a few realizations of your own.

Seungmin has known, and he’s known what he was signing up for—when he’d come here, when he’d pick you up, when he’d answer your calls at two in the morning.

He likes you a lot, and no other heart will ever make him act this way.

Not like you do.

So, for now, he’ll keep doing anything if you ask him. He’ll keep showing up until he’s ready to commit to the How To Confess scripture. He’s a simple boy, after all.

A simple boy with a simple heart that beats only for you.

[chleem]

Flashing lights prologue

Series; actor Drew x actress reader

Summary: Drew gets involved in the worst scandal of his career. One way to solve it? Proving to the whole world that he’s the sweetest lover to exist. Who better to help than the one person he can’t stand? You, an A class actress with an alcohol addiction. So, will Drew clear up his reputation, or leave with a bigger mess to clean up?

Genre: fake dating, enemies to lovers(?, slow burn, angst, smut,

Warning: mentions of alcohol, swearing, mentions of k!lling oneself, mentions of rape & sa, mentions of drug usage, smoking & vaping,

⋆.˚ please dont copy my work, if inspired please tag me

⋆.˚ this is entirely fictional, if uncomfortable then don't read

♡⸝⸝ ps: chapter one out! index

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Talk about a scandal. 

‘Drew Starkey, rising star from OBX, impregnates girl and refuses to take responsibility.’ ‘Drew Starkey impregnates girl and forces her for an abortion.’ ‘All to know about OBX star that SA a girl.’

Even an interview starring a random girl that claims to be pregnant with Drew’s child. 

If Drew knew going to the club a week ago would cause such big damage to his career, he would have never stop foot in there. But being stubborn and a sucker for fun, he just needed the relaxation that clubbing would offer. 

His PR manager Henry, who Drew’s only sees once a year, is surprisingly quiet. He sits across Drew, staring at his laptop. His typing makes up for the quiet and tense (at least for Drew) atmosphere in his manager’s office. 

“I’m sorry,” Drew starts, genuinely, his eyes shifting between his manager Jeff and Henry. “Look, I don’t know who that woman is. She’s lying, alright? I didn’t even talk to any strangers last night. Just my friends. And I was careful with how much I drank-”

“Calm down, we didn’t accuse you of it,” Jeff chuckles, also surprisingly calm and not scolding Drew. Normally, Jeff would scold Drew so hard that it took Drew back to the days of being coached by his dad. “I’ve worked with you for almost ten years, I know you wouldn’t do that.”

Hold up. Was this a dream? He fucked up real bad, why were his managers so forgiving? So… calm? This felt way too strange. They should be furious right now, thinking of a solution and threatening to kill Drew. So why were they so gentle with this situation?

Drew adjusts his hat, pocking his tongue against his cheek. Without thinking, he simply says, “What?”

Jeff glances at Henry, who nods, looking up from his laptop. Drew furrows his eyebrows at Jeff, who simply looks away as Henry starts. “Fine, Drew. We’re all fucking pissed at your mistake. Do you know how many sponsors have asked to break up your contract? Even after we’ve came up with a clean statement? For fuck’s sake, Drew. You’re fucking thirty now, and you still act like a fucking child!”

Drew licks his lips looking away. Okay, this was the Henry he saw yelling at other artists, and what he expected when he walked into the office this morning. But now that he was yelling at him, it felt horrible still. After all, who likes to be yelled at? 

“I’ve had to pull multiple strings to help you, to clear your name up. So you better hope this is your last mistake,” Henry continues. 

Drew couldn’t help but ask, “what did you do?”

“We’ve come up with a plan,” Henry says, walking over to the printer. He grabs the paper, taking a quick look before placing it on the table in front of Drew.

Drew’s eyebrows furrow, sensing something really strange. 

And he was right. On the top of the paper, it read, “Fake dating Proposal.”

What the fuck. He reads through the first sentence in his head, with widen eyes, “In order to save Drew Starkey’s career, he must conduct a year-long fake relationship with Y/n Y/l/n.”

He falls back in his seat. “You’re not fucking serious. This is the strings you had to pull? This is fucking ridiculous! How is this-“

“Drew!” Jeff yells, making him shut up. His face was slightly red, sweat dripping down his forehead. “Drew, trust us. We wouldn’t cause more harm. This, this will save your career, save you.”

“but out of anyone-“ Drew adjusts his hat once again. “Out of anyone, and you chose her?”

“She’s the best choice of right now, and the only one who even agreed. Drew. You’re not in the place of choosing. You sign, and you accept it. Or it’s the end.”

He couldn’t believe himself right now. Literally. Out of every solution, every person, it had to be you. You, the one person he can’t stand. You, the one person that gets him worked up and annoyed. It was like the end of the world for him. 

Worse, his manager seems to agree with this solution. As if he doesn’t know how much Drew despises you. Jeff places the pen next to Drew. “I hate to say this, but Drew, you’re screwed unless you do this. We see the vision, and in a few years, you’ll see it too. Just, just treat this as another acting class, okay?”

Do I have a choice anyways, he thinks. Drew rubs his face in annoyance. Fuck. Damn you and damn himself. Getting into this stupid situation in the first place. 

He looks at the contract again. Sees your name again. And his head hurts a thousand times worse than a hangover. 

He reads through the contract terms, cringing at it. 

‘Must show up at five or more public evens together.’

‘Must show PDA at public events, such as touching, holding hands, kissing etc.’

‘Y/n Y/l/n must talk sweetly about Drew Starkey, and steer away any negative comments.’

‘During the course of this fake-relationship, being seen with any other costar of the opposite sex is forbidden.’

Much more was listed, at least twenty terms were on this contract alone. So this is the real thing. 

And at the bottom, Drew sees what was offered. Wow. You get offered millions of dollars, while all Drew receives is a clear to his scandal. 

He should at least get half the amount you’re earning, considering that he has to put up with you. “How can she get so much cash?” Drew asks, curiosity killing him. 

“Because she’s got nothing to gain from being with you,” Jeff states matter-of-factly, that hurt Drew’s ego more than it should have. He also noticed how much money this was, almost all the money he earned from acting in OBX. Wow. So not only were you a moody bitch, but a greedy one as well. 

Drew rubs his eyes aggressively, a frustrated yawn coming out. He so is going to regret this. The worst decision he ever has to make. 

You better be the savior to his career, or he was going to kill himself. 

Drew signs, pushing the paper away as if it had some kind of disease. 

Henry forces a smile, grabbing the paper. Drew gets ready to leave, but Henry stops him. “Where are you going?”

“Home. I- that was enough for me.”

“No, no. You’re going to Y/n’s filming set.”

“What?”

“Yes, you heard me. Her manager gave the green light, so you’re going.”

“Fuck, it’s only like, a minute since I signed.”

“Hey, I’m saving you right now,” Henry says. “Now, you want your sponsors back or not?”

Drew curses under his breath, never wanting to punch a wall as much as right now. “Fine. I'll go. But I can’t promise that I’m hugging or touching her or anything. She’s a complete stranger to me.”

“We just need a couple of photos to leak out,” Jeff says, grabbing his jacket. “I’ll drive you there.”

“Fucking hate you Jeff,” Drew says, walking out the office. “Henry you asshole.”

Either his managers heard and said whatever, or they didn’t care. But cursing at people who's helping him ‘save’ his career was the least of his worries. His head is just consumed with meeting you again, the brattiest bitch he's ever known.

-------------------------------

word count: 1.2k

ִ ࣪𖤐 a/n: i'm sooo happy for the support and how much people liked the teaser! i was giggling seeing the reblogs and likes.

anyways, thought i should release a prologue first, to give drew's pov of this situation. apologies in advance for y/n's character and anyone who can't handle her! but i'm so excited for you guys to read ch1, which will be released later this week! like or comment to show support, really appreciate it <3

[dimonds456-art]

CUPHEAD CROSSOVER!

@year2000electronics ask and ye shall receive

Ramblings under the cut!

The general idea is that the AU follows a similar story structure to Cuphead, but the lore is similar to Gravity Falls. There's just one key difference: everyone can see and interact with Bill. He just can't really interact with our world. Yet.

Bill is a projection, brought forth by Gideon Gleeful. He would allow Bill free presence, and in return, Bill basically made him famous, AND his Earthen right-hand. So he takes the place of King Dice.

From there, the history is almost the same as GF. Ford came here to investigate anomalies, found Gravity Falls, met Bill, and started building a portal. The possession came with a different cost this time, though; Ford's soul. Bill promised he'd be in good hands and that it's just kinda part of the gig, but because of this, Bill's ability to possess him never left.

Once Ford got the metal plate installed, Bill was limited, sure, but he still had control of the soul contract, meaning he could basically just. Force Ford to do shit. The main limiting factor here is that he has to know where Ford is and has to be able to see him. If he can't see him, he can't control him. Once Ford is in the multiverse, this is the main reason Bill can't get him. He doesn't know where Ford is.

The main story is just everyone in Gravity Falls making really really stupid mistakes. The only person who has not fallen for Bill's games is Stan, who- like Elder Kettle- tried to warn the twins about making bad deals, but ultimately this fell through when they got curious and visited Gideon's tent, where Bill was also observing.

In my interpretation of this AU, Pacifica takes the place of Ms Chalice. She's hurt and alone, and her dad made a deal with Cipher that resulted in. this. I like to think it was a Monkey's Paw type scenario, but my brain is an egg so I'll figure that one out later. Basically Pacifica wants her body back (ghost rules the same as the DLC), so she decides to help Dipper and Mabel under the belief that they can assist her once Bill is defeated.

However, this falls through. However the deal worked, it persists, and Pacifica starts to wonder if she'll always be a ghost. But that's where Ford comes in.

Ford, taking the place of Saltbaker (kinda? kinda.), offers to try and help her restore her physical form. Call in the twins and let's be off let's go. He says he needs to build a machine that could potentially reverse the effects permanently, and he needs parts. So that's what the twins are doing. The cookie is replaced with an astro-physical restorative remote, but a really, really weak one, and it requires a host to work, keeping the idea that one of them will always be a ghost until the machine is done.

The only problem with this plan is that Ford's contract with Bill is not up, and was not destroyed by Dipper and Mabel, and Bill can see him now. So. In short, that ain't Ford.

The parts the kids were gathering were for the portal.

Once they figure that out, we get a Baking the Wondertart equivalent, Bill is defeated, and in doing so, Ford is freed of the contract as well, meaning Bill can't mess with him anymore.

Not sure if Bill lives all the way to the end of this story, but there is a good chance unless I figure out how to kill him, seeing as Weirdmageddon probably doesn't happen here.

Gotta think on it more, but that's the basic idea. First draft. All of this is subject to change hdfsdfjh

[gojoidyll]

stubborn heart ch. 5

yan!capitano x wife!reader

summary | or in which capitano is told he needs a wife. and he begrudgingly agrees.

previous | next

You found yourself tossing and turning in the bed. Your body eventually landed on your side as you could only find yourself staring at the side of Capitano’s face. At least one of you could sleep next to a total stranger. Then again, you doubted that Capitano would be afraid to sleep next to anyone. To you, he had no equal when it came to other humans. Sighing to yourself for what seemed to be the millionth time, you turned over to your side and gently reached for your nightstand where one of your old favorite books laid.

Then, turning a small knob on the gas lamp, a light flickered before igniting creating a small flame. Looking to Capitano to see if he woke up, you were glad that he didn’t. So you smiled slightly and turned back to the lamp while also opening your book.

Back at the Hearth, you did this plenty of times. You would always light a lamp with a small enough fire to be able to read in, then you would huddle up into your covers and delve deep into the fictional world that managed to paint itself across the pages.

It was the only way that you could put your heart and mind at ease so you could fall asleep. It also helped when the nights were too cold, or when your stomach was too empty, or when your hands would bleed or when tears would dry.

A good book was a good book.

And just as you were about to turn the page, you felt the bed shift on your right.

“What are you reading?”

It was odd how quiet his voice was in the night. It wasn’t soft per se, but it wasn’t his usual harsh tone either. Maybe he’s sleep talking?

“Wife.”

Ahhh, never mind. There is that demanding tone of his.

“It’s one of my books that was brought from the Hearth. It’s about a princess who…,” you trailed off. You were not exactly sure if Capitano wanted the full details of what you were reading.

“Go on. What is it about?”

He just keeps surprising you.

“It’s about a princess who falls in love with a knight. But she isn’t supposed to because her parents tell her that she is already betrothed to a prince in a faraway land.”

“You said it was one of the books from the Hearth, did you read it a lot?”

“I have.”

There was a brief silence before he spoke up again, “what happens next?”

You wondered if his question was genuine, but you decided to ignore the thought as you turned towards him and noticed how he was also sitting up in his bed, giving you his full attention.

“The princess ends up being sent to the faraway prince, but at her request she is allowed to take one guard, And that guard ends up being the knight she falls in love with. To her, as she lives in her new home and prepares herself to be married to the prince, she thinks she will be able to live happily as long as her love was right by her side. But… she realizes it to be impossible. She ends up sad over everything that even her knight can’t cheer her up. And the prince doesn’t like how sad she looks. He only wanted her for her beauty and the radiant smile she was known well for. Tired with how he can’t get her to smile as beautifully as he wants, he plans to kill her and dispose of her and find a new bride who he could call beautiful. The knight, learning of this plot, cuts down the prince with one strike and takes the princess away to live peacefully in a small, unknown village.”

“Does the princess smile again?”

“She does.”

Capitano “hmmed” in response before holding out his hand, your eyebrows scrunched together at the gesture before it finally clicked.

You handed the book to him, and he opened it to the first chapter.

“What… what are you doing?”

“I am going to read to you.”

Huh?

“I have been told that doing things together can make a relationship go smoother.”

“And that includes reading to me?”

You couldn’t hide your confusion.

“If it must.”

With how he was waiting for you to get comfortable, the hold on the book, and how he was scanning the page, it was clear that you weren’t going to read on your own. So, you laid back, your head hitting the too soft pillows as you pulled the covers more up to your chin.

Capitano looked at you briefly before looking back to the book.

“The world will only turn when she smiles…”

Out of all the things that have happened to you in the past two days, this would most definitely take the cake.

Though, your thoughts soon ceased as Capitano’s voice lulled you to sleep. One chapter became two, and two chapters became three. And before you knew it, you were fast asleep.

Sensing your breath evening out, Capitano closed the book and got out of bed to walk over to your side to turn off the lamp before going back to his side. Then, getting under the covers once more, he looked to you who was finally fast asleep.

“Books, huh?”

The next morning, just as Capitano had said, he was nowhere to be found. His side of the bed has long gone cold and the book he had been reading to you the night before rested gently on his nightstand, under it was a note. A slip of paper that peeked out just from under the book. Frowning at it, you flopped across the bed and stretched. Your arms reaching out as your fingers managed to snag against the slip of paper and gently pulled it out.

Quickly unfolding the note, you read through it quickly.

“Wife,

There is a library within the manor, but no books occupy it. I have left mora for you on the kitchen table. Feel free to go to town to buy as many books as you wish and fill the library to your heart’s content. Take your maid with you when you go out.

We will see each other again in two to three weeks. I expect you to hold true to our marriage despite not consummating it as I will do the same.

If you run out of mora for your books, go to the bank. Your name is attached to mine, so my mora is yours. Before you decline, do know that I do nothing with it. The mora merely sits there collecting dust. Put it to use.

-Capitano”

You found yourself rolling onto your back and rereading through the letter over and over again. It wasn’t romantic and it honestly felt like he was ordering you rather than offering a suggestion. And despite it being a simple note, it still had that authoritative tone and intimidating aura in it. Honestly, you wondered what an official letter from Capitano would be like. Like what it be if he was writing down orders or writing down a punishment?

You shivered at the thought as you rolled to the side of the bed and moved to sit on the edge of it. Your feet lightly kicked back in forth as you reached for your nightstand drawer and opened it before slipping the note inside and closing it right back up.

“I wonder what books I am going to get today!”

taglist

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some say "no blogs found" when I try to add them </3

[nina-ya]

A/N: here's the sanji version for you all! I'm cooking up some other characters as well and I plan on rolling them out over the next few days okay bye Pairing: Sanji x reader CW: none WC: 630 Other Versions: Luffy Zoro Sanji (more to come) • masterlist • ko-fi • discord server •

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Loving Sanji is knowing that beneath his flirtatious and suave attitude, his heart only beats for you. His charm is endless, the blonde having more than enough to share with anyone he comes across, but it’s those moments when it’s just the two of you where you can feel the depth of his love and his obsessive adoration of you. It’s in the conversations over shared dinners where he’s watching you with those devoted eyes as if you are the most beautiful thing in the world thatyou truly understand just how much he cherishes you. He doesn’t need to be loud with his love to show you just how much he means it. 

Loving Sanji is understanding that his love is constantly growing. His love for you is shown in every gesture he gives, every glance your way, every word that spills from his lips, all still present even when you are not paying attention. It’s in the way that he makes sure your plate is filled with your favorite foods. It’s in the way that he whispers words of affection and adoration in your ear as you two are falling asleep. It’s in the way that he never once makes you feel that you are less than perfect. In his eyes, you are his entire world and he will do everything in his power to make sure you know and fully understand that.

Loving Sanji is tasting life’s sweetness. It’s indulging in the small pleasures like sharing a perfectly made dish, laughing over a couple of glasses of wine, or stealing a kiss when you think no one is looking. He makes sure that every moment is special like you deserve the absolute best of everything. 

And Loving Sanji is also about understanding the weight of all his troubles that he carries in his heart. Behind all the charming smiles and chivalrous acts, lies a man who knows just a little bit too much about what loneliness and loss is like. He is a man who would much rather give than take. Someone who puts others needs before his own, and sometimes that is to a fault. And in those moments, being someone who loves him means being the one to remind him that he also deserves care. That he is allowed to be vulnerable, even when he doesnt think so himself. 

Loving Sanji is feeling cherished in a way that’s bordering on overwhelming. He is the kind of man who will shower you with compliments, and kisses to the back of your hand, and call you beautiful with such love and intensity that you can’t do anything else but believe it. His voice softens when he speaks your name, it’s like a secret that only you two share. And every touch carries this deeper meaning, only one that you can fully understand. It’s the kind of affection that makes the heat rise to your face, the butterflies in your stomach fluttering to no end as if you are constantly being swept off your feet. 

Loving Sanji is watching him chase his dream of finding the All Blue and knowing that you will be there to witness that moment his dream becomes a reality. It’s witnessing the way his eyes light up while talking about his dream, the fabled sea that connects all of the oceans. You find yourself captivated by the intensity in which he believes in it. He will tell you about all of the fish he longs to cook, the exotic species he wants to discover, and the flavors he imagines combining in dishes no one has ever tasted. When he talks about it, you can’t help but feel that being there by his side when he finds it is a dream of yours as well.  

[scarletwinterxx]

but on a wednesday in a cafe i watched it begin again - kim mingyu imagine

hiiiii - okay i'm so so so inlove with this one. may i say this is half inspired by real life scenarios haha anyways i hope you like it!

alsooo just a thought, would anyone want to be mutuals on X?

for my other svt fics, check them here

if you want, u can buy me coffee(totally optional but any donation is very much appreciated!) thank you🥺💛

All works are copyrighted ©scarletwinterxx 2024 . Do not repost, re-write without the permission of author.

(gif not mine, credits to rightful owner)

10 years ago

"Kyeom, I'm gonna go. I have assignments to do"

"What noooo, the game's just about to start" he mutters, he even kick feet like a little kid

"Then stay, but I'm going" you didn't even give him a chance to say anything because you're already out the gym doors. Your bestfriend used to your attitude at this point, he lets you be.

You pull your bag on your shoulders as you walk towards the school gates, some students were also on their way out since classes are done. Just as you were about to exit, someone calls your name making you look back.

When you spot who was calling you, confusion took over your face. Wondering why Kim Mingyu is here running after you when he should be inside with the basketball team.

"Hey, glad I caught you" he smiles at you.

Kim Mingyu, the guy who's known across all campus. He's the star student, all the teachers like him, he's never missed a class, he's good at studying, never the troublemaker, has a big circle of friends and an even bigger number of admirers from all across the school.

"What's up, do you need something?" you nonchalantly replied but that didn't deter him one bit

"Yea uh actually I wanted to ask you out" he scratches the back of his neck, looking down at his shoes as he waits for your answer

"Me?"

"Yea, I like you"

"Oh uh thanks. But I'm not really looking for that type of thing right now"

You watch the smile fall from MIngyu's face before it comes back again, it doesn't quite reach his eyes though. You notice.

"Oh"

"Yeah, sorry but uhm goodluck on your game though. I'm gonna go now" you wave goodbye before going your way. Not once turning to look back where Mingyu was left standing.

The rest of your high school life flew by like that. You still mostly kept to yourself, a few close friends, never really wanting to have any eyes on you. Mingyu never contacted you after that. You two acted like strangers once again, his confession something only you and him know.

Present Day

"Did you get the invite?" Dokyeom asks the moments he enters your apartment. After all these years, he's still your bestfriends. Most of your 'friends' from high school you've already lost contact with, you realized you were only friends with them only because you saw them everyday. Not many of them really made the effort to keep in contact, you can't blame them though since you didn't either.

But that's life. People come and go.

"For?"

"Our high school reunion, please tell me you're going"

"I did get it, and no I'm not going"

"What? Why? It'll be fun" he still does this thing where he stomps his feet like a kid when you say no to him, annoying but he's your bestfriend so you learned to put up with it.

"I don't even talk to anyone from high school apart from you"

"I'll be there, you can talk to me" he weakly reasons out, trying to plead with you is like trying to move a cement brick wall. He knows it's a losing battle but he still tries anyways.

"You won't stop bugging me unless I go, won't you?"

"You know me too well"

"Fine, but I'm not staying long"

"3 hours tops"

"2, take it or leave it"

Leave it to Dokyeom to make sure you're actually coming because by 5pm the day of the reunion, he came to your apartment even though you're taking your own car since you don't plan on staying as long as him.

"Oh you actually got ready" he says when you open the door

"I don't want another long message from you, let's go before I change my mind"

The two of you drove separately to the venue, as an introvert you admit when you got there you already want to go home. You see the familiar faces, already dreading the amount of small talks you have to do for the rest of the night. Cursing Dokyeom in your mind.

Your bestfriend didn't even give you a chance to step back inside your car before he's pulling you inside, saying hello to everyone on your way in. He's always been the nicer one between the two of you.

The two of you grab some snacks and drinks before continuing on meddling with your former schoolmates. Your social battery draining drastically by the second when you hear Dokyeom almost scream from beside you,

"Kim Mingyu! Yo dude you made it"

You look over where Dokyeom went, watching him give a bro hug to the guy. There Kim Mingyu stands, still as handsome as ever. A lot of years passed by but he still looks the same, just even better now.

The years have indeed been kind to him.

With everything happening around you, you can't help but feel overwhelmed. A few moments away from sneaking out but Dokyeom catches you once again before you can even give it a try

"Y/N's here too, you remember Mingyu right?"

You wanted to step on your bestfriend's shoes to make him shut up but instead you just shoot him a tight lipped smile before turning to the taller guy,

"Hi"

"Hey, it's been a while. I haven't seen you since... graduation"

"Yea, you too"

End of conversation.

You're still the same, Mingyu thinks. You're still the same girl he liked back then, you're still just as hard to read, still answering with single sentences, still beautiful like the day you broke his heart.

He wonders how you've been since then. Are you dating anyone or are you still out there breaking other guys' heart with your cold demeanor. He's still friends with Dokyeom and last he heard you've been doing okay. No mention of a boyfriend.

You don't give him a chance to ask any question, you say something to Dokyeom before walking towards the door

"Is she alright?" he can't help but ask

"Oh yea, she's being her usual self. It's a miracle I even got her to go tonight so I won't even be surprised if she's about to sneak home now, I'll just call her later"

"You two still close?"

"She's my bestfriend, dude. Of course we are, we're like twins ya know. Anyways how's the cafe going"

Mingyu hangs out with Dokyeom for the rest of the night, they didn't really run out of things to catch up on. He can't help but wonder how two very different people manage to stay close friends. But then again it's Dokyeom, one of the nicest guy he knows. At the end of the day, he's glad you're friends with someone like him.

The next day Dokyeom calls you to bombard you with stories about the reunion that you missed when you came home, he goes on and on about catching up with Mingyu then some other people from your batch you don't even talk to anymore but you listen anyways.

After the phone call, you get ready to go to work. You go on with your routine and before you know it you're done with your 9-5. That goes on for the rest of the week.

Some people hate it but you liked having a routine, it drives you crazy when things don't go your way.

Like tonight, your workmates all but forced you to come with them for afterwork drinks. You wanted to decline but you already done so many times so they made sure you come with them this time.

"Okay okay so what if you're in a room full of all the people you ever liked, who would you go to?"

Everyone take turns to answer until all head turns to you, "Oh me?"

"Yea, come on spill the details girlie we won't tell" one of your workmate jokes, clearly drunk

You take a few more seconds to think before you say your answer

"I guess this guy I rejected in high school"

"What? Oh my gosh whoooo, tell us tell us what happened" they excitedly ask

"Oh no big deal, just a guy. He was nice, like really nice. I liked that about him, but uh I guess high school me wasn't ready for any kind of commitment so I rejected him. I choose him because I want to apologize, that's all"

"Aw did you hear that? that's so cuteee"

"So where is he now?"

"I don't know, I never really kept in touch"

You grab your glass so you can avoid any more questions, after an hour to tell them goodbye since you still have to go to work tomorrow.

And as expected you woke up with a slight headache, even though you wanted to stay in bed for the day you know you can't. You get up and get ready for the day, planning to stop by this cafe your workmates keep on mentioning on your way to work.

Good things it's still early, when you got the cafe there were only a few people inside. You can smell the freshly brewed coffee and pastries on the stand.

"Next, Hi goodmorning what can I get you?"

"Hi, can I get an iced Vanilla Latte and a bagel with cream cheese to go? Thank you" you say your order while the cashier notes it down "Okay, for a moment I'll just get your order ready"

"Sure" you wait on the counter for your order, checking the other pastries and the menu board.

Mingyu was at the back, getting some stocks ready for the day when he spots someone on the counter. He had to do a double take to make sure it was you standing in his cafe, immediately a smile forming on his face as he watch you look at the display case.

You're too lost in your own world to notice him now standing Infront of you so he clears his throat to get your attention, "Can I get you something else, see anything you like?" he asks

He can see you weren't expecting to see him here, out of all places.

What in the twisted fate was this, you think to yourself.

"Oh uh the other barista already took my order" you tell him, Mingyu goes to the other guy telling him something before returning to the register with your order, "One iced vanilla latte and bagel with cream cheese, here you go. Anything else?" he asks again

"I think this is all for now, so how much?"

"On the house" Mingyu says with a smile, makes you wonder if he does this on a regular basis but you shake the thought away.

"What? No, come on I'll feel bad. Tell me how much" you tell Mingyu but he just shakes his head at you

"Free coffee for the pretty lady"

"Do you tell all your lady customers that?" you ask him, the words already out before you can stop yourself. You can feel your cheeks heat up but Mingyu just chuckles, again he shakes his head

"Just you, tell me next time how's our coffee and baked goods are then we'll call it even" he tells you, pointing at the suggestion box

"Are you sure? My workmates recommended this place and they said the coffee is good but I never really went with them" you tell him,

"You work close by?"

"A few blocks from here, I sometimes pass by here but it's always so busy. I guess I got lucky today"

All this time you were this close to where he was and he never knew. Mingyu mentally agrees with you, indeed it is a lucky day because for the first time since he met you you finally said more than one sentence to him.

17 year old Mingyu would be pouting and kicking his feet out of jealousy, he would never believe this day would come but here you are.

"Thank you for the coffee and food, uh see you around"

"You too, Y/N. It's nice to see you again" he smile again, you shoot him a small smile before going your way.

He watches you go out the door, the scene of you walking away hitting him like a Deja vu. A scene from 10 years go playing in head. Just as you were about to exit the door, to turn around to look at him behind the counter then shoot him another smile then you were gone.

This time though Mingyu wasn't left with a heart to mend but something to look forward to. Maybe just maybe this time it'll be his chance.

"You're down bad" Hoshi, his co-owner and other barista, says from beside him

"Huh?"

"Really?? Coffee for the pretty lady? so original" he laughs

"What? I never used that on anyone" Mingyu mumbles, "I know, that's why I said you're down bad. Who is she by the way?"

"Someone very special, call me when she comes back" he pats Hoshi on the shoulder before going to the back to resume his re-stocking duties.

Mingyu didn't want to expect (but he was), he would be lying if he didn't tell Hoshi he'd open tomorrow and man the register just in case you come in early again. He would be lying if he says he looked up every time the bell dings signaling another customer came in only it wasn't you.

It took you a few days before you visited again, and this time luck wasn't on Mingyu's side because he was not on duty.

"Hey, you're Mingyu's friend" Hoshi remembers you from the other day, greeting you with a big smile making his eyes almost disappear. He seems like a warm person, very friendly.

"Yeah, you can say that" you shyly answer him "Oh right sorry, what can I get you?"

"I'll get another iced vanilla latte. The last one you made was really good" you tell him

"Thanks, make sure to drop that inside our box" he jokes "Anything else?"

"Can you recommend any pastry for me to try? They all look so good"

"Honestly, not to be biased, everything's good here but that chocolate cake is extra special. Mingyu makes it himself everyday, want a slice?"

"Sure, sounds great"

Hoshi, you learn his name, goes and make your order like before then returns to the counter "Okay here you go, and the man says it's on the house"

"Huh?" you ask confused "Mingyu said it's on the house if ever you come back"

"Oh I can not not pay, he already said that the last time" you said, already getting your card out

"No really, he insists. And between us, I'd be in bigger trouble if I let you pay. If you want to scold him, feel free to do so and drop it in the box"

You chuckle, finally taking your drink and food "Thanks again, let me write something" you seat on a vacant chair to get a paper from inside your bag, writing a quick note before going back to the counter to drop it in the box. You say goodbye to Hoshi before going.

You feel your phone ring in your pocket, Dokyeom's name flashing on the screen "Barbeque later"

"Are you asking or are you telling me?"

"I'll come by after work" then he hangs up.

A few hours later, your bestfriend shows up with a few grocery bags and a loud mouth. You two catch up on what you missed on the few days you didn't get to talk, he likes staying up to date with your life even though nothing really ever happens. He's like the brother you never expected but you're now stuck with.

"Do you have any sweets here, chocolate or something" you hear him scrummaging through your kitchen

"I have a cake slice in the fridge"

Dokyeom finds it then walks back to the dining table, setting it in the middle to share between the two of you

"Oh gosh this is so good, where did you buy this?"

"At Mingyu's cafe, did you know he had one?" you ask back, Dokyeom's head springs up to look at you

"You went there? Mingyu did mention he had a cafe. So you two talked?"

"Yea he was there the first time I went, it was really nice the coffee is good. The other barista said Mingyu baked this" you tell him, taking another bite

"You know, you never told me why you rejected him"

Dokyeom suddenly mentioning that made you cough out loud, "You said you liked him right? Then all of a sudden you were telling me you rejected him"

"Are we really talking about this? It's been 10 years"

"Yea"

"Like I said, I didn't have the time and I got overwhelmed. Everyone knew who Mingyu was, I didn't want that kind of attention on me too. I guess 17 year old me got scared"

Dokyeom listens to you, watching you stab the piece of cake before taking a bite "For what it's worth, he really liked you back then. He even asked me what your favorites were, I said you liked cakes more than ice cream"

Back at the cafe, Mingyu comes in after Hoshi closes so he can start on baking tomorrow's batch of cake. He's in the kitchen getting the ingredients ready while Hoshi cleans the display case and front of the house.

He was humming to himself when he hears the kitchen door swing open, "Oh by the way Y/N dropped by today"

Mingyu forgets the number he was on, now he has to measure the flour all over again. He turns to look at his friend with an annoyed expression, Hoshi holds his hands in the air

"Hey don't blame me, not my fault she went here on your only day off. But I did say it's on the house courtesy of you, so you're welcome"

"Atleast you did something right" Mingyu says

"And she got the chocolate cake, she also dropped something in the box. Go check it when you're done, I'm going now" he waves goodbye before going to the office to do a few more things before leaving Mingyu alone at the shop.

He tries to focus first on what he's doing, going back to measuring the ingredients and putting it in the oven before going to the counter to get the box.

How will find your note here when there's about 30 others in here, he's not so sure. He reads through a few of them when finally he finds one

Coffee is great, maybe even better with company. On me next time I come back, thanks Gyu :)

He knows it's from you because of the nickname, a lot of people from highschool used to call him that. It may be common but it sounded extra special when you're the one calling him that. He takes the note and put it in his pocket before putting the others back.

Tonight's cake about to be extra good.

When Mingyu comes in the shop the next day he was expecting you to come, he wasn't going to lie about it this time.

It might seem silly but he never really got over his crush on you. There's something about you that he admired so much, even though people said you're the 'ice queen' with your stoic expression and one line answers he thinks you're just always straight to the point.

He never harbored hard feelings even after you rejected him, he understood your reasons. He knew you were focused on your studies but he just wanted to shoot his shot.

That day when he asked you, he already saw you in the gym before the game. He thought you were going to watch only for you to disappear a few minutes before they started, he chased after you with high hopes only to be handed his heart back in a few pieces. But even then he still liked you, he continued on admiring you from afar. Cheering you on your academic victories and cheering for you on your graduation day when you gave out your valedictorian speech.

He liked watching you achieve your goals, you always had that laser focus and determination. The entire class knew you deserved it.

Now a decade later, you're still the same in some ways. The night during the reunion party, he didn't expect to see you there. You didn't age a day, you still look so beautiful. You now carry this confident but reserved aura around you, he admits he was a bit intimidated to approach you so he thanks Dokyeom for being there.

The day passed by and still no sign of you, when he turns the open sign over to close he lets out the biggest sigh. Looking at the last slice of cake on the stand, ironically very similar to him. Waiting for you to come by.

He's busy mopping the floors to notice he didn't lock the front door, you just got out of work and decided to check if the cafe was still open. The sign said closed but you spot Mingyu inside so you try to knock on the glass door but he couldn't hear you so you let yourself in.

You walk closer to where he was before tapping him on the back making the tall man jump up in the air with mop in hand.

Mingyu turns around, holding his hand to his chest as he looks at you blinking back at him "Fuck you scared the shit out of me, sorry" he mumbles the apology after letting a few curses out

"Sorry, I didn't mean too. I knocked but you couldn't hear. Uhm is it a bad time?"

"No, I mean no it's good. I was just cleaning up. Do you want anything?" he asks you, putting the mop in the bucket before walking towards the counter with you following. He stands by the cashier while you stand on the other side

You spot the last piece of cake like it's calling your name, Mingyu following your gaze. Smiling to himself while he waits for your order.

"I'll get the last piece of chocolate cake, please. Hoshi recommended it yesterday and it was really food. Glad I got the last one" you smile

Little did you know he made that recipe with you in mind. He knew you liked chocolate cakes. "Chocolate cake coming up, anything else? Our cookies are good too, let me get some for you"

"As long as you let me pay for it"

"Not a chance, miss" Mingyu smirks, putting the remaining cookies in a box along with the cake before walking back to face you

"Not this again, you already got it for me the last few times I was here. How will you run a business if you keep on giving it out for free"

"I don't always do it" Mingyu shrugs

"Just let me pay please" you say giving him your card but he just pushes it back

"No"

"Mingyu"

He smiles, looking over at you. For a second you were taken back by his stare. The only way you can describe it was sweet, he looked so sweet like the cake he baked. He looked so soft and gentle like he wouldn't break a heart.

"Come back next time, I'll let you pay"

"You said that the last time"

"Then keep coming back, maybe one day I'll let you" he confidently tells you, the underlying message of wanting to see you again lies in the air. He holds his breath waiting for your next words,

"If you don't let me pay the next time, I won't come back" you threaten him cutely, finally taking the bag from him. Mingyu smiles walking to the other side to walk you out.

Before you reach the door you stop, "Actually, there's something I need to tell you" you turn to look up at him

"Go ahead, I'm listening"

You take a few seconds, again surprised with how he's staring right at you. Like he's seeing all of you.

"I would like to apologize for what happened before, you know the whole rejection thing. I know it's a bit overdue, actually it's very overdue but I've always wanted to say sorry. Someone asked me if I was in a room full of all the people I liked, who would I run to I said you. That's because I wanted to say sorry... so yea. I'm sorry" you mumble, now you're looking at his chest. Too shy to look at him

"You like me?" Mingyu mumbles

This make you look at him again, "That's all you heard?"

"I mean I appreciate the thought, apology accepted. Now back to my question.. I heard that right, right?"

"You're not wrong"

You and your one liner answers.

"So how many are there in the room" he asks, now he's teasing you. You can't help but scowl at him, rolling your eyes.

"It's a very short list and you're missing my point"

"No I get it, and no need to apologize. I respect your decision back then and I still do now. No need to say sorry over that, no hard feelings" he smiles at you.

Mingyu wanted to reach out and hold your hand but he stops himself. He didn't want to mess this again with you, if this is finally his second chance then he's not going to do anything to mess it up.

"I really am, it's been 10 years but I just wanted to tell you that. So yea.. that's uh that's all"

"Can I ask something?"

"What?" you ask back "Who else would be in the room with me, do I know the others"

"Oh my gosh! It's a very short list"

He laughs at your answer, reaching up to tuck the loose hair than fell on your face behind your ear.

"I believe you, tell me about it next time you get coffee"

"Seriously making me rethink about coming back here" you pout, this made Mingyu's heart pound like crazy. A hundred shots of espresso got nothing on you. Only you can make him feel this way, so alive.

"I'll bake you a cake" he bargains

"Chocolate?"

"All yours, on the house"

[brittscafe]

Hi there!

Can I request bleach men finding out along the grape vine that s/o likes them. But like add some spice ✨ by this I mean, maybe the men can over hear s/o thirsting for them. Or anything else, please be free to do anything.

Characters (in order of importance): Byakuya, Shunsui, ichigo, Jushiro, Toshiro.

(If this is too many please remove characters starting from the back).

hiiii! ohhh?? spice??? My fav, ofc <3 <3 I loveddd writing all of these for each character, but I think my fav was Shunsui's!! Let me know your fav <3

Byakuya: He's heard plenty of rumors before and he's never really believed them. He's not one to care for rumors, nor believe them. But, he has heard a lot of rumors in the Soul Society that peak his interest.

It takes a lot to catch Byakuya's attention and certainly have. He plans on catching your attention in a bold way.

You're walking along the dirt road of the soul society, the sun beaming down on your face. Byakuya's standing the corner, eyes on you.

He loves the way that the sun gleams onto your face, heightening your pretty features. Byakuya steps out from the corner and a tiny gasp escapes your chest as he pops out from nowhere.

He towers over you with his tall, slender figure.

"Y/n, come here," he beckons you with a deep voice and your heart drops down to your feet.

"Um...ok," you mumble out, following him back to his estate. The cherry blossoms are flowing around in the air, so soft and light. Your eyes are stuck on them, almost trapped in a trance.

"I think of you like a blossom petal. Delicate and so pretty," his voice is soft and romantic.

Who knew Byakuya could be such a romantic?

Your eyes widen as he reaches out and tucks a strand of your hair behind your ear. God, you're falling in love with him.

"What?" you blurt out, furrowing your eyebrows together. Why is he all of sudden talking to you like this? It doesn't make any sense.

"I've heard you speak of the cherry blossoms in my estate. I've also heard you say how you would like to rip off my ropes and kiss me from bottom to top," his voice is stern, but has a hint of amusement in it.

Your eyes widen and your stomach twists into uneasy knots. Your knees feel like they're gonna buckle underneath you. Face planting in front of Byakuya would be 10 times less embarrassing right now.

"Oh my god! I didn't think you would ever catch wind of that. I am so embarrassed!" you raise your voice, hiding your face in the palm of your hands.

Byakuya lets out a tiny chuckle, it's so quiet you wouldn't have noticed it if there was a cricket chirping.

"How about I take you out first? I suggest a date first, then we could get the tearing off my ropes later. After all...I am a gentleman."

There is no way Byakuya Kuchiki is suggesting that the two of you go on a date right now.

You slowly lift your head up from your hands, embarrassment written all over your face. Byakuya gazes into your eyes and you're finding it hard to even speak.

Your palms are sweaty, but your body is excited. Your heart is thudding, but it's ecstatic with joy.

"Ok," is all you can whisper out. Byakuya nods his head and starts to walk away.

You stand there, dazed, confused, but happy. You now have a date with Captain Kuchiki.

Shunsui: You're sitting beside your friend in the bar, gushing about Shunsui, not realizing that he had walked in and taken a seat right beside you and was listening you gush about him.

"I mean, come on, who doesn't like Captain Kyoraku? Have you seen how big his muscles are?!" you giggle out, throwing your head back and your friend's eyes widen at the figure behind you.

"So...you like my muscles then?" a familiar, raspy voice speaks up from behind you. You don't even notice that Shunsui nudges your shoulder as he speaks to you as your heart sinks down into your feet.

Your eyes widen and you stare at your friend in total awe. You slowly turn to face Shunsui, palms sweaty as you try to only imagine what is going to happen next.

Shunsui wears a playfully grin across his face, white teeth winking at you. Your face heats up and you slowly bring your hands up to your face, covering it with pure embarrassment.

Shunsui chuckles lightly and slowly reaches out to you. He can't help feeling so attracted to you, eyes glistening in the bar setting. His large hand grabs both of yours, causing your body to tingle.

He gently pulls your hands away from your face, not letting go of them. Your eyes meet his and Shunsui cups your cheek with his other hand.

You furrow your eyebrows for a minute, not having enough time to react to anything. Shunsui pulls your face towards his, closing his eyes and pressing his lips against yours.

A gasp leaves your friends lips, loud enough to echo throughout the whole bar.

Your heart pounds against your chest as his lips melt into yours. You can feel his beard against your chin and mouth, tickling it. Shunsui slowly pulls away from your lips and opens his eyes, glancing up at you.

His gaze is hot, making you feel like your body is on fire. He smiles widely before standing up and walking out of the bar. You can hear your friend giggling behind you.

"What just happened?" you mumble out, pressing a finger to burning lips, seeming to want more...

Ichigo: School is full of gossip and rumors traveling along the grapevine. It's hard to tell what rumor is a lie or the truth these days at Karakura high.

Ichigo likes to learn about all the new gossip, but he will never comment on anything like that. He likes to stand in the corner, arms crossed and leaning against the wall as he takes in all the new information.

"I mean didn't you hear that y/n likes Ichigo?" a girl scoffs out. He cocks an eyebrow with interest, tuning into the new gossip session.

"Please, like they would ever have a chance with him," another girl rolls her eyes with annoyance.

That smug smirk on his face slowly fades into a face of shock. His eyebrows are furrowed and he wishes he could sink into the wall he's leaning against.

He slowly brings his hand up to his jaw, rubbing it. Ichigo thinks you're so sweet, nice, and genuine. You always help him when he's behind on work and you're super cute, honestly his heart tinges a little for you.

Ichigo glances out into the hallway and there you are, walking down the hallway, heading to the group of girls.

What horrible timing.

You're staying close to the wall, trying to avoid the rather large crowd of girls by the lockers.

"Hey Y/n! Isn't it true that you like Kurosaki?" a girl calls out to you and your stomach twists into knots. You glance over at her, at a lost for words.

"Oh, come on! Just tell the truth, it doesn't matter anyways. It's not like you have a chance with him," a girl comments, glaring you up and down.

You're taken aback by their mean words and demeanor. It strikes you in the heart and your throat starts to become raspy and burn a bit, tears welling up in your eyes.

Ichigo breath hitches in his throat as he watches your face drop. He hated seeing that.

"Oh my god, there is no way. They're crying about it," a girl giggles out and the rest of the girls break out into laughter. You sink down into your figure and start to rush off.

Ichigo pushes himself off the wall and steps in front of you, blocking your path. You gaze up at him, teary eyed and cheeks burning.

The group of girls are staring at Ichigo and you. He wants them to see this. It's gonna be burned in their little minds.

Ichigo's hand grab onto your waist and pull you closer. Suddenly, he dips his head down and captures your lips with his. Your eyes widen and scan Ichigo's face as his warm lips are pressed against yours.

Your body relaxes and you lean into his touch, closing your gasp. You hear the group of girls gasp loudly behind you and start whispering, but you could care less about them right now.

Ichigo slowly pulls away from the kiss, the two of you opening your eyes and meeting each other's gaze.

"Come on," Ichigo gestures with his head, holding out his hand for you to grab. You glance down at his hand then back at the girls, standing there in utter shock.

Your lips are warm and tingling from the kiss. You gaze back at Ichigo and take his hand, allowing him to take you away.

Jushiro: He's one to soak in all the new gossip spreading around the Soul Society. Never speaking up, just smiling politely and nodding his head, retaining all the information in his head.

Although, there's one rumor that catches his attention. He raises his eyebrows with interest as he hears that you might have a crush on him.

"Wait, what? How did you come across this information?" Jushiro steps into the conversation. Rangiku laughs a little bit, throwing her head back.

"Well, she told me, Captain. All of us know, right, Hanataro?" Rangiku asks, nudging his shoulder. Hanatora's eyes widen and he gulps, glancing over at you behind his shoulder.

"It is true, Captain Ukitake. In fact, if you want to ask y/n, they are right behind us," he gulps out, lowering his head with shame. Rangiku snaps her head over to you standing behind them, a dazed look across your face.

"Oh my gosh, y/n! I am so sorry, but I think I hear Captain Hitsugaya calling my name. Gotta go, bye!" Rangiku quickly takes off with Hanatora scrambling behind her.

You stare at Jushiro, heart racing against your chest. Now, he knows everything. It's like you're standing naked right in front of him, with no where to run.

Jushiro clears his throat and smiles warmly at you. You're surprised at his actions, thinking he would act indifferent to you.

"You shouldn't really listen to them spreading rumors around like that," he plays it off, crossing his arms and slowly walking up to you.

You gulp and slowly nod your head. "Yeah, I know," you lower your gaze to the ground, slightly embarrassed of the events that just happened.

Jushiro steps closer to you, reaching out his hand and cupping your face. Your eyes widen and your heart skips a beat. You slowly lift your gaze from the ground up into Jushiro's soft eyes.

Your body is getting warmer as his hand rests on your cheek, thumb caressing your skin. He shoots you a warm smile and then tilts his head.

"See you around, y/n," his voice is husk and gentle. His hand falls back down to his side and he walks past you, cologne whisking in the air as you're left in shock.

Toshiro: You're helping Rangiku out with some paperowrk that Captain Hitsugaya assigned her. You scribble with the pen on the paper, putting it into another pile.

"Gosh, Captain Hitsugaya is so lame for making me do all this paperwork," Rangiku complains, hunching over in her seat.

"What? I think Captain Hitsugaya is super cool! He's really sweet when you get to know him," you shrug your shoulders.

"Trust me, he's super boring and strict. Makes me do paperwork all day," Rangiku groans out, rolling her eyes with annoyance.

"Come on, Rangiku. He can't be that bad. He's a really good person with a good soul," you comment and Rangiku leans in closer, narrowing her eyes.

"Sounds like someone has a crush," she giggles out and your eyes widen.

"What?! No way!" you reply back, raising your voice slightly. She leans back in the chair and has a smug smirk on her face.

"Sureeee," she chuckles out, shaking her head in disbelief. You scoff and chew on your bottom lip.

"Maybe just a little," you admit.

"Whatever. Moral of the story is that Toshiro is super lame for this," she sighs out.

"Now, Rangiku, I don't think that's quite true," Toshiro's voice rings out and Rangiku's head perks up. She chuckles nervously and pushes the chair back.

"I have to leave now, but good luck!" she quickly scrambles off, leaving you and Toshiro. You turn your head and see Toshiro walking towards you.

"Guess you heard her call you lame, huh?" you ask, letting out a tiny chuckle as Toshiro sits down across from you. He nods his head, a slight smile on his face.

"Sure did. Also heard everything else the two of you were discussing, but no worries. I also think you're super cool," Toshiro speaks with a hoarse voice.

You lift your eyes up from the paperwork and across the desk at Toshiro, gulping. Your heart flatters as his foot gentle taps yours and he smiles at you.

You clear your throat and nod your head, resuming the paperwork as Toshiro keeps you company.

Captain Hitsugaya thinks it's very cute that you have a crush on him.

[bahablastplz]

All in | Chapter 15

pairing: Lee Felix x f!reader (mafia au)

summary: You didn't know what you were getting yourself into when you started dating Yang Jungwon, notorious mafia boss. Your life gets flipped upside down when you're found beaten and bloody by SKZ, the rival mafia group, and you're quickly integrated into their lives. What will happen when you try to leave your old life behind and start anew?

chapter summary: Chan has thought up a punishment for you that doesn't really help your mental state; someone thinks of a plan to help.

chapter warnings: smut! unprotected sex

warnings: please see series masterlist for all warnings.

series masterlist ~~ series taglist ~~ main masterlist

Beep, beep, beep, beep. Click! 

That’s the sound you get accustomed to a few times throughout the day. It’s Chan, unlocking the door to let himself in. Every time he brings in a tray of food for the two of you to eat, and most of the time you pick at it but you can’t find too much of an appetite. 

The first few times, you don’t talk to Chan at all. You’re completely silent, looking out at the forest through the barred window. Occasionally you would watch his mannerisms or react when he moves something a little bit too loud. Other than that, you make it a point not to speak at all. That’s how it started, at least. 

Each time a few hours pass in total isolation, you slowly become more and more stir crazy. Mostly, you look out the window. Sometimes, you do situps and pushups or practice the self-defense exercises that Changbin and Felix had taught you until exhaustion. You take a few naps. You take a shower. You finish the latest book that Hyunjin let you borrow. Chan visits you for dinner. You do not speak with him, eat your meal in silence, and watch as he leaves. You go to sleep for the night with an empty, hollow and rotting sensation in your chest that you have never experienced before. It might be anger directed towards Chan, but also an empty feeling knowing that you are unable to see Felix, who is in the same house as you. You wonder if he feels the same as you right now. 

Beep, beep, beep, beep. Click! 

You wake up to the sound of Chan unlocking your door in the morning with breakfast. You break your silent treatment, finally, though probably more out of boredom than anything else. You only respond to his small talk, tell him that the food is alright. 

The longer increments of time that would pass, the more anger you would find bubbling in your chest. 

“Do you really expect to keep me locked here forever?” you snap at one point. You have just finished rereading The Stranger by Albert Camus for the third time. “You know that’s how people start to lose their minds? Is that what this is? A torture device? Or is it still a sick, twisted ploy to get me to fall in love with you?” you walk around the room, pacing. Your hands are strung through your hair haphazardly as you let out a laugh. “Some sort of Stockholm syndrome to the extreme? You already fucking tried that, Chan! I’m stuck in this house with you, I can’t leave, and it didn’t work. What is your plan here?”

He blinks at you, sitting on your bed and crossing his arms across his chest. “I don’t know.” 

“You… you don’t know?” 

He chuckles and you feel your blood begin to boil. “Well, I mean, I don’t know how long I plan to keep you here. At least until the Heeseung drama boils down. Until I feel confident that Felix is just as broken down about this as you are? I mean, it’s the point of a punishment, yeah?” He runs his fingers through his hair and lets out a sigh. “Obviously I know you aren’t going to fall in love with me right now, not like this, yeah? But the thought of you and Felix, it’s so wrong, y’know? So I gotta nip it in the bud.” 

You blink away a tear but wipe it away quicker than he can see. You won’t give him the satisfaction of letting him see you cry. 

“I hate you,” you spit. When Chan stands, he closes the distance between the two of you. He swipes a strand of hair behind your ear. 

“You might want to watch your mouth for now, especially when you’re the one who’s not in control,” he coos. “If you want to start getting your privileges back, you might want to consider upping the sweet talk.” He leaves as a chill racks through your body and the door slams shut, lock clicking into place behind him. 

You’re not quite sure about *sweet talking*, per say, but you suppose you could calm it down with Chan for now in order to get things back to the way they were. It’s really hard, with the way your anger bubbles every time he enters the room, every additional hour that passes. You start to feel delirious, depressed with nothing much to do, sleeping far too much and eating far too little. 

The flowers start to wilt. 

The flowers that Chan had given you for your date. You don’t even know how long ago that was at this point, feeling a bit too disoriented. You watch over days as the petals start to turn brown, curling up into themselves and falling to the floor. It’s only once every flower has finally turned to black that you convince Chan to let you leave your room. 

It’s only to Hyunjin’s room that he lets you go at first. He supervises your visit. You sit on the corner of Hyunjin’s bed and you sit and talk, nodding politely when he speaks. He updates you on Seungmin’s condition, shows you his newest painting (which is stunning beyond belief), and talks about his latest venture to the bookstore. It’s more than he’s ever talked to you at once, and you’re sure he’s doing it because he knows the effects that the isolation has had on your head, but you appreciate it more than he could ever imagine. 

Chan checks his wrist watch, clearing his throat. He tells you it’s almost time for you to go and you can’t help the panicked feeling that bubbles in your chest. You know that Hyunjin notices it too, the frantic look in your eye as you look to him for help, but there’s nothing he can do about it. You wonder if he and Chan got into a disagreement about it, if anybody besides Felix had the gall to stand up to him about your circumstance but it’s unlikely. 

As Chan guides you out, Hyunjin remembers something, handing you a new book as if it were an afterthought. A brand new copy of Wuthering Heights is placed into your hands. 

“I think you’ll really like this one,” Hyunjin muses. “I hope we get a chance to talk about it soon. I purchased this at that bookstore I was telling you about. Let me take you there one day, okay?” 

You smile at him. A true, genuine, smile before Chan takes you back to your room for dinner. Feeling a little more hopeful, you eat more than usual and talk to him more than yesterday. You think he’s expecting you to thank him. You don’t. He wishes you a good evening before he locks you in your room for the evening. 

Something about Hyunjin’s words had struck you as odd. “I hope we get to talk about it soon.” Since you moved in and Hyunjin had started giving you new books to read, although he was always very sure of himself in his choices, you had never really talked about your choices. Even today during your conversation you didn’t talk about Albert Camus’ The Stranger, which you had read a whopping four times since your isolation.

This is why you’re not as surprised when you open the book and you find a note, wedged neatly between page eight and page nine. It’s not Hyunjin’s handwriting, but Felix’s. You can’t help it when your heart picks up and beats against your chest, a smile against your face despite yourself. 

‘Dear Sunshine,

I am so sorry for everything. Each day that I have not been able to see you and that I have known that you have been behind those doors has been Hell for me, as I’m sure they’ve been Hell for you as well. Let me take you far, far, away from this place if you would let me.

If you will take me, if you want this as much as I do, let us leave tonight. Leave your bathroom light on tonight and I will know that it will be okay for us to make our escape. 

Love, LF.’ 

Are you really reading this correctly? 

It was the first night here that Chan took off his belt and whipped you with it just for leaving when he told you not to leave. What would the punishment be if you and Felix were caught? You knew the answer, and you found yourself grimacing as you thought about it. If Chan found out that you and Felix had escaped—and you had a very, very short window of time before he came looking for you, until breakfast tomorrow—he would surely kill the two of you in cold blood.

Felix, was he really to risk it all for you? No questions asked? You knew you were. 

Turning off all lights in your room, leaving just your bathroom light on for the signal and to light up your path, you get ready. You throw on some clothes, a pair of thick socks and a pair of sneakers, athletic pants and a t-shirt underneath a hoodie. You try to dress both light-weight but also warm, easy for mobility in case you have to do some running. And you take a quick nap, since it’s still light out and you’re sure that the plan won’t take place until after nightfall and you should probably be well-rested. 

You’re right. You wake up a few hours later and it’s dark outside. Felix still hasn’t shown yet. You sit right by your door and wait for him. You wait and wait and wait, your heart beating so heavily out of your chest it might explode. You literally have to calm yourself down with breathing exercises several times because you find yourself so worked up. You can’t help it–you’re so nervous about seeing him again, and about the escape, about his plans, though you’re sure he has something planned out. 

After some time has passed, you almost wonder if maybe he isn’t going to show, but you laugh at that thought. It’s Felix. Of course he’s going to show. You have never met someone more true to his word and dedicated. You just hope that everything is going according to plan. And sure enough?

Beep, beep, beep, beep. Click! 

Light from the hallway spills into your room, encasing the darkness that surrounded you. When you jump to your feet, Felix pulls you in for a very chaste kiss. His name spills silently from your lips and you see him smile before grabbing your hand, pulling you into a silent run down the hallway. You can already tell that there is going to be a long night ahead of you, though you’re relieved when Felix leads you to a mundane car, a dark mini-van, and you can’t help but think thank god we aren’t literally running away. 

You hurriedly get into the passenger seat, Felix the driver’s seat, and the two of you drive away. You watch as the house gets smaller and smaller in the rearview mirror behind you until it completely disappears, and most of your anxiety along with it. 

“You came for me.” you say finally. 

“Of course I did,” Felix says, his voice soft. “I just had to work out the logistics. I’m so so incredibly sorry it took me that long. I hope you can forgive me.” 

“It’s really happening?” you ask him. “We’re really leaving?” 

Felix only smiles. “I did everything I could. I was even able to get your sister out of your house, I sent her somewhere safe where Chan can’t find her to retaliate.”

“Thank you, Felix,” you say, breathing out a sigh of relief. “Really, really, thank you.” 

He reaches over the center console and grabs your hand, bringing it to his face to kiss along your knuckles. 

“You have no need to thank me. This is my escape too. In reality, I owe you just as much.” Your heart squeezes at his words. You don’t really understand the weight behind his words but you hope that he will open up to you about them one day. About his past and his history with Chan. You stare at Felix, at the way the passing headlights illuminate his face and accentuate his features, and you just sit there and watch and watch, drinking him in and hoping that you will never have to let him go again. 

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

You’re expecting to arrive at some sort of hotel/motel, similar to the one you and Felix had shared after the night at the gala. What you weren’t expecting was an apartment building, at least ten stories tall in the middle of a city a few hours away. 

Felix parks the car, a protective hand around your waist the whole walk to the building. He holds you so close you find it almost difficult to walk. The elevator takes you up to the eighth floor, where Felix leads you down the hall. The building looks well-kept, maintained inside, contrasting from its run-down exterior. 

Felix leans over the door, typing a code into the keypad. It swings open revealing a large furnished studio apartment. 

“This place looks really nice,” you admit. “It is a step-up from the motel. How did you…” 

“Chan isn’t the only one that has his connections,” Felix says, sighing as he throws a backpack down next to him. He closed the door behind him, locking it. He walks around the apartment several times, making sure that every window is locked and secure as well. “It’s safe here. We should be able to stay here for a few days before we need to pick up again. But this place is completely alarmed and equipped with security codes. He won’t find us here, okay?” 

“Okay,” you nod. You really do trust him. You feel safe. 

“The password for the front door is 0325,” Felix tells you. You don’t know why that action alone makes you want to tear up. You’re not a prisoner anymore. You’re really free. 

“Thank you,” you tell him, shucking your hoodie off of your body. You don’t miss the way his eyes rack over your frame at the way your shirt picks up slightly. How does he still manage to make you blush? “How did you get the code for my door?” you ask him. You had been wondering about it for a while, as there was no way that Chan had given it to him. 

“Hyunjin told me,” Felix discloses. “He was the only other person besides Chan that knew the code, in case of an emergency or if Chan was away and he needed to give you food.” 

“He was the only one?” you ask. “But that means… Won’t Chan know that Hyunjin…” 

“Hyunjin has already come to terms with things,” Felix says remorsefully. “I didn’t want it to go down like this either, but Hyunjin really was willing to make a sacrifice for you. For both of us. Nothing horrible is going to happen–he isn’t going to be killed, but I’m sure the punishment will be brutal.” 

You shake your head, unwilling to believe his words. “I can’t believe Hyunjin would do that for us. I really thought he was loyal to Chan.” 

“At the end of the day there must have been something he found more important to put his trust in,” he smiles. “I think he realized how bad your mental state was after spending over a week in that room.” 

“It was over a week?” you nearly cry. Felix holds you tight to his chest. You don’t cry–you’ve already come to terms with what has happened. When you pull apart, you look into his eyes and find that he has tears of his own that have started to build up. Now that is something that you had not anticipated. 

“I’m sorry–” he starts to say, but you crash your lips into his instead. Your hands pull into his hair and you push your body into his, do anything you can to get your body as inhumanly close to his as possible, so that you can feel every touch of his skin against yours. 

Felix’s hands wander underneath your hoodie, tugging off the material and throwing it to the floor in a desperate show. His hands roam your body, his lips never once leaving your skin. This time he makes it a show to suck a mark into any available surface, licking and sucking dark purples and pinks into your neck, collarbones, shoulders, breasts–any area of skin that was once pristine now has Felix’s claim on it. 

“You’re mine, do you understand? You’re mine and I’m yours.” 

“Yes, Felix, yes,” you agree, letting him push you back against the bed. He towers over you for a second, dropping to his knees onto the floor so that he can pull off the material of your pants. You lift your hips, allowing him to. You push your thighs together, utterly exposed in front of him but also so aroused by his stare and he grabs your thighs, pushing them apart. 

“Beautiful,” he comments. You throw an arm over your face, embarrassed by his comment. “Don’t hide from me, angel,” he says, kissing the insides of your thighs. “You’re mine, right? Can I compliment what’s mine? You’re not going to hide away what’s mine, hmm?” When you don’t immediately answer him, your chest rising and falling rapidly from his words, you feel a slight pinch come from inside your thigh. You look down at his mischievous face to realize he has just lightly slapped your inner thigh to get a response. 

“N-no, Felix,” you moan. 

“No, what?” he teases, his mouth going higher and higher still, his breath right above your center but waiting. 

“No, I’m not going to hide from you. Yes, you can compliment me,” you reply.

“Fuck, that’s my girl,” he groans. “Prove it, then. Open those legs wide for me.” And you do. You spread your legs as far as they would go and Felix rewards you by immediately diving in, his tongue lapping at your clit like a man starved. As much as your thighs tremble and shake and threaten to close, you don’t let them. Your eyes stay on Felix, and his eyes on yours. 

Suddenly, Felix pulls away with a pop. 

“What–”

He climbs onto the bed and lays down, leaving you utterly confused before he grabs you by the waist, manhandling you effortlessly by the waist onto his face. 

“Felix, what are you doing?” 

“I want you to sit on my face,” he responds, his hands caressing your thighs as if trying to coax you down to properly take your seat. 

“Are you sure? I–”

“Please, just, use me. Make yourself cum, and then I’ll fuck you open on my cock.” You can’t deny how appealing his words sound, and he had already worked you up just seconds ago so you can’t find the resolve to protest much longer. Eagerly, you sit. His tongue prods your entrance, pushing in as far as it will go. You rock yourself back and forth on his face, your clit occasionally catching on his nose, and you find Felix’s hands taking place on your ass to help you find your pace. 

Once you build up a rhythm you ride him in earnest, like nothing matters but him beneath you right now and your climax building up. He knows you’re close when he feels your thighs clench tighter around your head and your back starts to arch back, and your noises have become louder. You do exactly what he told you to do–you use him for your pleasure until you’re having one of the longest, most drawn-out orgasms of your life. 

When you finally crawl off of him, Felix wastes no time before flipping your positions, making your stomach turn with butterflies. He pulls his pants off in one swift motion and you take a moment to look at him in awe, to really just appreciate him and his beautifully toned body despite seeing it a few times before. 

You watch as he strokes his cock a few times, his eyes fixated on your pussy. He pushes forward, and just to tease–intentionally catches the head of it on your overstimulated clit, causing you to cry out. 

“Felix!” your hips buck up, your legs wrap around him, doing anything you can just to get him to enter you properly. 

“Do you want me that bad?” he asks with a smile, his voice a low timbre in your ear. 

“Yes, Felix, stop fucking teasing me, you know I want you–” and with that, he pushes right into you, fully sheathing himself in one thrust. Your hands come up to push crescent fingernail indents into his shoulders, just to ground yourself from the overwhelming sensation. 

Felix wastes no time before fucking you like he really means it, his hips pulling out to meet yours flush each time. The way his hips roll in a fluid motion into yours has you crying out, wrapping your legs around him. 

“Fuck, you’re clenching me so tight,” he pants. “I’m going to cum soon, baby. Where do you want it?” 

You wrap your legs even tighter around him. 

His hand snakes up to your neck, just placing it there, not even squeezing but it still causes you to cry out with a moan that is borderline pornagraphic. 

“You’re being so dirty, baby. Are you trying to tell me something? You want me to cum inside? Because you’re going to have you use your words to tell me that or else it’s not gonna happen,” he grins. 

His hips snap into yours so hard it’s almost bruising, but you’re so close to your second orgasm that you think you could fall over the edge any second. 

“FELIX,” you finally cry out. You’re sure the scratches you’re leaving into his back are going to leave marks, if not bleed. 

“Fuck, you gotta tell me now.” 

“Inside! Inside! I want you to cum inside, fuck, I love you Felix, please!” you sob. 

He kisses you. Rather, his lips smash into yours so hard you’re not sure what is happening, but you’re cumming so hard it’s blinding. You can feel him still as he fills you up with warm ropes of his cum. 

When you both finally come down, Felix flops beside you and you immediately curl into his chest. He embraces you, his hands stroking unknown symbols into your skin. 

“Did you mean it?” he finally asks. 

You don’t have to ask what he’s referring to. “Yes,” you reply. “I think I’ve known it for a long time.”

“I love you, too.” Felix tells you, grabbing your chin so that he can press another kiss into your lips. “You mean the world to me.” 

That night, Felix looks around the apartment again, making sure that everything is in its place. When you see that there is both a couch and a bed, you make a joke about sleeping on the couch that causes him to quite literally pick you up and throw you into bed with him. You fall asleep like that, intertwined in his arms, not worried about accidentally getting caught and what the consequences might be tomorrow. 

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

You toss and turn. Images plague your mind. A guilt-ridden feeling plagues your gut. 

Minho, who gets anxiety on missions, who wanted to get away from his family and the life of crime from his childhood, but couldn’t let Jisung go alone for fear of what Chan would do to him.

Changbin, who has only wanted to protect his family, but instead Chan has held that over his head.

Hyunjin, who didn’t really know how to find himself after being told who to be, who didn’t know what to do with his life, exploited by Chan. 

Jisung, who has never had anybody tell him that he is good for more than shooting things and a life of violent crime, and had Chan take advantage of that. 

Seungmin, who had only one dream and had it taken away through an injury, was falsely promised by Chan that one day he could get the surgery and recover to play baseball again. 

Jeongin, who turned to a life of crime but was told he could have the money to go to fashion school, all if he would become Chan’s lackey. 

Even Felix, who you’re sure has been through something just as horrible, though he hasn’t told you yet… 

At the end of the day, there’s one common factor in all of this evil. 

You know that you can’t stay here and live a fantasy life, where you get to escape and be free while the rest of them are trapped there and still living in a nightmare. At the end of the day, you have started to develop close relationships with each and every one of them, and you can’t bring yourself to think more about the horrors that Chan continues to inflict on them each day while you get to run away with Felix. 

Picking up Felix’s arm, you kiss him on the head. You feel very remorseful for what you’re about to do, for the amount of mental anguish you are probably about to put him in when everything was finally going to go your way. You wish you could have relished in this a little bit longer. 

Opening up the bedside table, you grab Felix’s car keys and his gun. 

This has to end, and it has to end now. 

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

a/n: we're getting close to the end! two main chapters and two mini chapters left!! sorry for the delay today guys, I only had this chapter half written i wrote the rest in a coffee shop lol <3

taglist: @shuporanporang ; @purp13st4r ; @eurydiceofterabithia ; @heartsbyandra ; @thicccurls ;

@rylea08 ; @the-sweetest-rose ; @oddracha ; @kapelover ; @goldenmellow ;

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@changbokkii ; @1810cl ; @sillyhal

[padfootagain]

Love in Verses (XII)

Chapter 12 : Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air, are heading home again

Hi! Here is new chapter! This one is… interesting… Whiskey is very dangerous, indeed…

I hope you like this chapter! Tell me what you think!

****

Pairing: Hozier x fem!reader (professor!AU)

Warnings: slow burn, angst, hurt, hurt/comfort, tooth-rotting fluff in later chapters, some scenes in later chapters will have heavy sexual themes even if it’s not explicit nsfw description, so minors here

Summary: Your life seems perfect. You're engaged, your career is thriving as you become an assistant professor at Trinity College, and this Andrew Hozier-Byrne you're sharing an office with seems to be a nice guy you hope to call a friend soon. Life seems to be smiling at you... until everything goes sour. When your fiancé breaks up with you, your perfect world shatters. And when your colleague also gets his heart broken soon after, your shared office seems to be a curse rather than a blessing. But Andrew seems determined to mend your broken hearts... Will things finally go according to plan?

Word Count: 2527

Masterlist for the series – Hozier’s masterlist – Main masterlist

Wild Geese

You do not have to be good. You do not have to walk on your knees for a hundred miles through the desert repenting. You only have to let the soft animal of your body        love what it loves. Tell me your despair, yours, and I will tell you mine. Meanwhile the world goes on. Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain are moving across the landscapes, over the prairies and the deep trees, the mountains and the rivers. Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air, are heading home again. Whoever you are, no matter how lonely, the world offers itself to your imagination, calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting – over and over announcing your place in the family of things.

Mary Oliver, Dream work, 1986

You ended up at your place with Andrew. After that awful dinner you both needed some emotional support.

You didn’t talk about the meal though. He didn’t mention how Frank had hurt you, you didn’t talk about how Andrew deserved better than Sam.

That was your final conclusion after the evening. Andrew deserved better than her. You didn’t know all the details that had drawn him away from a professional career in music, but you knew that it had been a tough decision to make for him. The way Sam made it sound, Andrew had simply given up. And yet, his eyes still lit up every time he talked of music.

You sat down on your couch with a bottle of whiskey, getting lost in thought as you replayed the conversation through your head. You had noticed how Sam had stopped listening the second you had started talking about your job, about music… about things Andrew loved. And perhaps you were too busy grieving for him, but was Frank the same with you? Because Andrew deserved someone who listened, someone who actually cared…

What did both Andrew and Frank saw in Sam that you didn’t? The question was relentless, spinning in your head again and again, a fly trapped under a glass trying to escape. What did you lack that she had?

You watched Andrew as he downed his first glass of whiskey. Neat. No ice or anything. He didn’t flinch, merely let out a long exhale as he let his head fall back onto the backrest of the couch.

“God… that felt good. I needed that,” he sighed, pouring himself another glass while you drank yours as well.

You winced slightly at the burn of the liquor, but silently asked for more anyway.

“What’s next on the list of things to ruin?”

Andrew chuckled at that.

“I reckon we haven’t really ruined anything yet… but… I guess not much until the New Year. You’re still coming to their party?”

“Of course,” you sighed. “We need to make a plan for this. We need to ruin something and then save the day.”

“We should ruin the champagne.”

“And replace it with another excellent one? Good idea. That could work for you.”

“What about you?”

“I don’t know… Maybe help Sam. That would impress him.”

“Hmm… a knight in shining armour? Ruin her dress and you fix it?”

“Oh…. That’s nice! You’re very good at this Andy, that’s a little scary!” you joked, nudging him. “I could give her my dress, and wear some disgusting clothes instead. The self-sacrifice will make him grow fond of me.”

“I’ll make sure to have the worst change of clothes in my car.”

“Perfect.”

“They said they wanted to organise the party in some sort of club…”

“Hmm… I bet you love the idea.”

“I’m already panicking at the mere thought.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll be there.”

You thought yourself silly for offering such a useless argument, but Andrew didn’t seem to think of it that way. Instead, he gave you a grateful smile.

“Why are we doing this again?” you asked, question aimed the ceiling as you sighed, Andrew shifted by your side.

“Because we love them.”

His voice sounded like a lie. It was true though. It had to be, somehow…

You drank again, tried to think of something else, let silence settle instead. It was okay. Silence with Andrew felt comfortable, like the world shushed under a blanket of snow. Natural. Slow.

And outside the world kept on turning, as if you weren’t in pain, as if you weren’t grieving. Wasn’t that a strange truth? Frank had left, and the world hadn’t stopped with him. You wished you could feel it spinning again, look at the rest of the world and feel its beating, and be part of it once more. Maybe, if someone listened to you, and understood you, and made you feel safe again… if you could be yourself with them…

“I’m glad you listened to the record,” Andrew spoke after a while and another emptied drink.

“I loved it.”

“It’s one of my favourites. My father listened to it often when I was a child.”

“Is he the one who made you love music so much, your father?”

Andrew nodded.

“He was sick when I was a child. Bad surgery on his spine. He never recovered.”

“I’m sorry.”

“He was a drummer, back in the days. And even after everything changed he just… I don’t know. No matter what we said to each other, how angry we were, how much we argued… we’ve always had music in common. Even when we couldn’t communicate properly, we would put on a record, sit in silence and listen to it, and then we’d discuss it, and things would get better.”

You knew that he was blinking tears away, heard him sniffing. He wasn’t looking at you and you were still staring at the white ceiling. It didn’t matter. Perhaps it even made it easier.

“I just… I didn’t… I made a choice, back in the days, you know? I wasn’t being a coward or something, I just… I didn’t want to tell other people’s words; words that I didn’t care about, I wanted people to listen to me. I wanted to make something that was true and earnest. I wanted… I wanted for someone to listen to me…”

He sniffed. You reached across the couch for his hand, easily found his fingers. He held your hand so easily, like it was obvious, like your hands were meant for that gesture, for holding onto each other. His so large, yours so small in comparison…

“I thought she used to listen, but I don’t know anymore. She wasn’t listening tonight. She hasn’t listened in a while. Do you think…? Do you think she ever listened to me? I had so much to say that I couldn’t express, I didn’t know how, I still don’t know how… I wanted her to listen… God I wanted for someone to listen, just once… just once…”

You tightened your hold on his hand, and you hoped that he would understand what you meant by this simple gesture. That you were listening now. That you listened. That you understood him. That you were there…

“Thank you.”

His voice was a mere whisper, but it was enough.

You struggled with your own tears as you spoke again, your voice shaking.

“I don’t understand why Frank needed to wait for me, and not for her. What… I feel like I’m lacking something…”

“You’re not.”

You felt his stare on you now, but you kept your own gaze set on the ceiling.

“You’re not lacking anything, stop it. Frank is the one who left…”

“Because he saw something in Sam he didn’t see in me. And I don’t know what it is. And I’m scared… I’m scared that I thought he cared about me, and he didn’t. I’m scared to have built my life on that kind of lie. And the worst is… I still want it. I want the life he promised me.”

You were surprised when Andrew let go of your hand. But then you felt his palm cupping your cheek, the brush of his thumb drying your tears.

You finally turned to him, he gave you a sad but soft smile.

“Don’t cry over him. Please, don’t cry.”

You sniffed, let him caress your skin for a moment longer. It felt reassuring, anchoring. Soft and tender. Safe. You felt safe with him…

You shook yourself, moved to the bottle of whiskey again.

“You’re right. I shouldn’t cry,” you nodded, drying your face on your arm. “Let’s get hammered instead, that was the deal!”

Andrew silently agreed by handing you his empty glass for a refill.

“Tell me something silly,” he requested.

“Something silly?”

“Something about… your college days. Those are always worth a good laugh.”

“It’s good craic,” you agreed with a chuckle. “Alright… I’ll tell you a couple of stories. But you’ll have to tell me some as well!”

“Fair enough.”

You exchanged a smile, united your glasses with a cling.

And then you talked about yourself. And he listened.

Your head was spinning, you weren’t sure anymore if it was because of the alcohol or how much you were laughing.

You let yourself fall back into the sofa, holding on your painful stomach, tears in your eyes and on your cheeks. God, you hadn’t laughed so hard in… you were about to think ‘since Frank’ but you couldn’t remember ever laughing so hard with him.

“There was this one time,” Andrew went on. “I was playing with a band… Alex thought it would be hilarious to hide my guitar… I was so fucking panicked, I fell down the stairs leading to the stage and almost broke my neck…”

You doubled over with laughter, and he followed you close.

“How did you pay him back?”

“I told the girl he fancied he couldn’t read music, and she went on to teach him…”

You were hysterical at that point.

“And then…” Andrew choked on his own breath, and it took him a moment to recover and speak again. “Then, he was too afraid that she would push him away if he said anything, so he pretended he didn’t know and let her teach him all over again…”

You were both laughing too hard, the alcohol blurring your senses and making the stupid jokes and silly stories funnier than they ought to be. You looked at the bottle of whisky, admired the empty part of it, felt the burn of its effects on your cheeks.

And you looked at Andrew who was drying his cheeks, his long fingers spread across his stomach. He took off his glasses, they were wet with happy tears. He put them down on your coffee table and leaned into the couch again, slouched and comfortable, with his cheeks flushed with the liquor you had been drinking through the evening. His hair was held back in a messy bun, that had only become messier along the evening.

Damn, you couldn’t help the thought when it crossed your mind, because he was so bloody handsome…

He felt your stare on him, turned his attention fully to you. Focused and expectant, as if he knew you were about to say something incredibly interesting. And this black shirt he had on…

There were butterflies in your stomach and stutters on your tongue while your heart was pounding. You didn’t think. You didn’t think at all, you only felt, and wanted and easily yielded… and perhaps it was just the liquor, you would blame it on the whiskey in a few hours, but for now, you weren’t thinking about tomorrow morning. And for the first time in three months, you weren’t thinking about Frank at all either. Instead, you were thinking of Andrew, of how gentle and warm he looked sitting with you on your couch, how inviting his lips were, how you longed to touch his hair and his beard and him and…

… and then your lips were on his.

You felt him raising his eyebrows, but when you leaned closer and let your fingers find their way to his cheeks, the brush on your cheekbones told you he had closed his eyes too. And there you were, kissing him, and he was kissing you back, your mouths moving in perfect unison somehow, despite a first kiss and too much alcohol. He pulled you closer, wrapping an arm around your waist, while his other hand came up to cradle your face. The long fingers soon moved to your hair though, pulling you closer while he deepened the kiss. You wrapped your arms around his neck in a slow, lazy movement while you kissed, gasping for air every now and then, but your lips always connected again after a mere instant. You weren’t sure for how long you kept on kissing, too long for it to be meaningless, and yet you refused to think for now.

When you at last opened your eyes again, Andrew blinked at you, seeming a little shocked, and you weren’t sure if it was a good sign or not. You felt dizzy… dizzy with his scent, something of wood and a tinge of spices. Dizzy with his taste still on your tongue, a mixture of whiskey and something that was just him. Dizzy with the burn of his beard against your skin, with the heat of his body against yours.

Dizzy with him…

“Y/N?”

The way he whispered your name, his words a little slurred because of alcohol, and yet it sounded so good, tender, like he cradled the vowels and the consonants in his mouth, with tenderness in the way he spoke it out loud…

He cleared his throat, but didn’t let go, his hands on your waist and in your hair still, and you held onto him for a moment longer, admired how your kisses had reddened his lips.

Why did it feel so good to hold him? Why did it feel so good to kiss him…

“Erm… You… you kissed me.”

“Yeah… yeah, I did,” you whispered, refusing to pull away, remaining in his arms and your lips only centimetres away from his.

“You… I mean… We…”

You felt him leaning closer again as he took a deep breath, felt the brush of his lips on yours… but just when you were about to lean in, he pulled fully away, moving further away on the couch.

“Wait… what’s going on?”

You blinked up at him, regretting his brown curls between your fingers and the warmth of his breath against your mouth. But then your brain kicked in again, and your eyes grew round as the realization of your own movements sank in.

You had kissed him. You had kissed Andrew…

Holy…

“God, I’m sorry,” you stammered. “I… I’m so sorry. I… I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable. God…”

“It’s alright,” he reassured you, but it was obvious that he was shaken.

“That was so out of line, I’m sorry…”

“No, it’s okay… I… I think we’ve both had a little too much to drink.”

“Yeah… yeah, I think it went to my head.”

Why was your heart aching when you thought he regretted it. He should have regretted it. And you ought to regret it too…

“Frank and Samantha…” you mumbled under your breath, thinking out loud, but Andrew caught your words and nodded.

“Yeah… yeah, we… they are the ones we want.”

He slowly nodded, ran his hand across his face, as if to clear his head.

“You… you were just drunk. Just drunk…”

He looked at his watch.

“God…it’s almost 2 a.m. We should go to bed…”

You nodded again, but stopped him when he pulled out his phone.

“I have an extra bedroom, you can stay if you want.”

“I can take a uber.”

“It’s late. You can stay, if you want to.”

Slowly, he nodded.

You let him head to the bathroom, and hid inside your bedroom, resting your back against its wooden surface as you closed it.

What the fuck was that?

[insomanic-fanfication]

Hey, I really liked your Dick Grayson sfw and nsfw alphabets! When you have the time, can I request either of those for Jason Todd? Thanks 😊

Jason Todd SFW Alphabet

Author's note: Of course! I planned on doing his anyway after finishing some of my drafts. But that's taking a little longer than I thought it would. CW:

Alphabet Under the cut!

Affection: How affectionate are they? How do they show it?

Jason isn't really affectionate, at least in open places. He's got way too many people wanting his head on a pike. Family and friends know you two are dating; however, if someone on the outside saw you two, they would have no idea. However, when you two are alone, his true colors bleed through. His personality is similar to that of a huge dog that hasn't figured out they can't be a lap dog anymore. Laying his head on your lap while you do your own things. He is reading a book, and you do one of your hobbies. Just decompressing from the day Comfortably in science and enjoying the other's presence. Will 100% fall asleep if you start playing with his hair.

Best Friend: What are they like as best friends? How would you become best friends?

Unless he needed to ask you for something, you would probably have had to make the first move toward friendship. Jason gets very lonely, but trying to meet new people on his own accord is not part of his personality. If he approached you, it would be one of two things; 1. You did something that impressed him, or 2. Dick was pestering him about meeting new people too much, and he caved to make Dick leave him alone.

Cuddles: Do they like to cuddle? How would they?

Jason hesitates to cuddle at first; it's not that he hates it, but more so, he fears it. For the most part, positive physical interaction is a foreign concept in his body. For the first few times he cuddles, he will flinch, and it doesn't matter which one of you enacted it. But once he gets to the point of cuddling, where you two can cuddle, he is relaxed? Your fate is sealed. You've created a monster! Anytime you're not busy in the apartment, it's cuddle time, and no protests are allowed. Will get pouty if you have to get up.

Domestic: Do they want to settle down? How good are they at cooking and cleaning?

Jason is one of the Batfam members who would settle down in a heartbeat, even if it's just for a year or two. He craves at least some normality. But if he does, no one can protect the ones he loves, at least not well, in his opinion. Unlike his brothers, Jason is an excellent cook and even a chef with his skills. One of his favorite early memories is helping and learning to cook with Alfred. He's also very good at cleaning, partly cause his spaces are the bare-bone things to live in. However, he likes to clean his apartment or space once weekly as a coping mechanism. It's something he feels he is in complete control over. However, if you find him randomly deep-cleaning a room or his apartment. BE AFRAID; he's not okay, no matter how often he tries to tell you he is alright. For him, that is grippy sock stay levels that are not okay.

Ending: If they had to break up? How would they?

Like Dick, if you two broke up and he was the one that broke it off, it was due to him having an episode. But unlike Dick, it would be out of paranoia. Jason would make himself believe that your life will be destroyed. or you'll die because you are dating him. He would most likely ghost you and not actually break up with you. Because the words would pain him too much to say out loud. Only coming to his senses after the episode has passed, realizing his actions, and imminently finding you in person, terrified he fucked up everything between you both.

Fiance: How do they feel about commitment? How long before they pop “the question”?

Jason didn't want marriage for a long while, too terrified that it would make something go wrong. However, the longer the relationship goes on, nothing terrible happens like he expected. The more the thought of marriage would come into his mind. Asking what your thoughts on marriage are one night while cuddling.

Gentle: How gentle are they? Both physically and Emotionally? 

Jason is incredibly gentle with his partners, partly due to his personality and partly because he fears accidentally hurting you. He's a little rough around the edges emotionally, though, mostly because he's not used to being a completely open book to people.

Hugs: Do they like hugs? What are their hugs like?

Jason hugs like a dad coming home after a long trip. He'll hug your waist and lift you, keeping you in his arms with the biggest smile. He'll kiss your forehead while you feel the warmth of his body around you.

I love you: How fast do they say the L-word?

Jason would be extremely slow to say the actual' I love you' wording, but he would make up for it in physical affection and words of affirmation. Holding you as close as he can while telling you how much you mean to him and how great of a partner you are to him. So, people may mistake it for love bombing, which added to his other behavior. But it's because it's so hard for him to verbally tell you he loves you. He feels he needs to say it to you in other words, so you know how much his heart bleeds for you.

Jealousy: Do they get jealous? What would they do?

Jason gets super jealous; he won't control who you talk to or anything like that. He knows you have a life outside your guy's relationship, and it's not his place to manage. But he's protective of you and gets jealous when others flirt with you because, in the back of his mind, it's hard for him to believe someone would date him. So he's worried that you'll find someone more accessible to love, and you'll give up on him. Does it sound balls off the wall crazy? Yes, but mental illness is rarely something that likes to make sense.

Kissing: What are their kisses like? Where do they like to be kissed/ kiss you? 

Jason loves it when you kiss places on him that are generally done on the submissive partner, such as his knuckles, neck, forehead, etc. He finds them so comforting and feels very loved.

Little ones: How are they around kids?

Jason is great around kids unless it's his brothers. Generally speaking, though, he's very good with kids. Sometimes, he understands what's okay for a kid or not. He'll let a toddler he's watching fidget with an unloaded gun if they are very interested in it. But he'll explain to the kid in terms they understand gun safety and how you know a gun is loaded or not. Telling the kid you never treat a gun like it's a toy. It is a 100% safe choice for a kid to go to if they can't find their parent.

Morning: How are they during the mornings?

He's a morning person but a lazy morning person. He'll wake up at 5-6 and do dishes, eat, and do morning stretches, but he will not do any actual work until around noon. God forbid the poor man has a morning shift, no matter what his day job is. He'll be the grumpiest man in the world, but he hides it well from clients/ customers. Some of his coworkers get very confused of this very quick change of mood, but others just see that, and think 'Same brick wall dude, Same'.

Nights: How are they spent with them?

He is a huge Night Owl, wither that be doing the bulk of his work at Night, or having a nice cuddle session with you while having a smoke on the fire escape of the apartment. He is a very light sleeper, or deep sleep with every hour or so waking back up. He also has a lot of night terrors, so he tends to avoid sleep, ESPECIALLY if you are staying over at his place. He has a lot of 'what if i hurt you..' paranoia.

Open: When would they start revealing things about themselves?

Try to get Jason to open up, is like trying to open a can with no can opener. You may have be in a relationship with him for 5 years, and still not know everything about him. Not because he doesn't trust you not to use that against him. But because he struggles with knowing WHEN to open up about things in a relationship. He wants to make sure your twos relationship is a healthy as it can be, which every now and then dose end up causing problems. Especially when he's having a ptsd episode and you feel helpless within how to help him through it.

Patience: How easily angered are they?

He tries to be a laid back person, tries to be, is the wording there, he doesn't have a hair thin trigger, but sometimes his trauma just gets triggers by something he doesn't even see the connection to, so he's in a pissed off fight response for a bit. He does, however go to anger management therapy to try and help these behavior issues. But somethings slip through the cracks before they can be brought up in therapy. This does not stop him from bragging to his siblings, that he's the only one taking care of his mental health.

Quizzes: They remember everything or nothing about you?

It's like a scale, sometimes he remembers everything, other times he can't remember your favorite hoodie, (it's the one that's been used as a pillowcase for 3 months, because he missed holding you). He can dissociate for a long awhile, but him also bottling up his emotions plays a bigger role in this.

Remember: What is their favorite memory in the relationship?

The first time you fell asleep while cuddling with him. You both were watching cheesy 90s slashers for Halloween night, snuggled in almost a cocoon of blankets and snacks. When he turned to check on why you had been so quiet, you had falling asleep while being snuggled so far into him, that he half expected for you to fuse into his side. The amount of trust you had for him, the emotions he felt was too much and he ended up crying for the first time in years. the tears feeling like they were burning his eyes, but it's still a memory he holds closest to his heart.

Security: How protective are they? How would you protect each other?

No matter what your appearance is, wither that be tall and lanky or short n stout. Jason tends not to need a lot of physical protection, but you are most defiantly the protector of his emotional peace and social battery. Think of it like a Pitbull done with his guarding of the house for the day, so runs to their favorite human to become the biggest cuddle bug on earth. That's Jason Todd, (He's very Resurce dog coded, don't blame me, blame DC). He very much, however, is scary looking guard dog for you. He could kill someone with his death glare sometimes.

Try: How much effort would they put into dates, gifts, anniversaries, etc?

Jason puts an extreme amount of effort into your anniversaries, gifts and dates! He's not a social able person, so don't expect fancy Lucious dinner dates at a 5 star restaurant. They make him very uncomfortable, thinking everyone's eyes are on him. But he will make you the most romantic and gushy homemade dinners, your favorite flowers or candy. Cooking Red type pastas with red wine or cooking a Hispanic dish that learned while growing up around crime ally.

Ugly: What are some bad habits of theirs?

He has a bad habit of pushing you away, instead of telling you what's up. For better, or for worse. Sometimes it's because his crime lord days caught up to close to him, and for your safety he pushed you away. Or on the worse side of things, he's terrified you'll look at him as a monster or not understand where he's coming from with his trauma and his poor mental health, so he tries to keep them from you as long as possible, until he has no choice to tell you, or lose the relationship he has built with you.

Vanity: How concerned are they with their looks?

Honestly, Yes and no, like he cares about his looks more than a person would think, but like.. slightly more. He's not gonna shower every single day on the dot and shave his pubic hair into a sharp clean design. But he absolutely cares about keeping up good hygiene. Though he does have issues with cleaning his teeth, nothings rotting in there, but he is brushing his teeth waaay less than he really should be.

Whole: Would they feel incomplete without you?

No, unless you two date each other until your 4 years into retirement and you die of old age. He will be able to feel the same before you to started dating, because he feels incomplete on a regular basis. Like he isn't able to do enough, BE a enough for anyone to see him how he is as a person now.

Xtra: Random headcanon for them?

Jason use to smoke weed, especially in his teen years, regularly. But now he smokes cigs, problary Marlboro's or Lucky Strikes maybe Camels , and eats edibles every now and then to help with muscle pain and mood swings. (he still hasn't figure out if meds are worth not being able to have a beer whenever he wants.)

He knows he has PTSD, maybe C-PTSD, however he's not quite sure or not that he has BPD or a similar disorder, he's mainly just not internally ready to know the answer to that part of himself just yet. He's barely processed his feelings towards his Mother, so he's not there yet in his healing journey.

Yuck: What are some things they don’t like, in general, or in a partner?

if you have bad few of poor people or think poor people are only poor because they chose to be. Than I'm sorry, but Jason is more likely to pop a bullet in your head than he is to see you in a good light, let alone a romantic one.

Zzz: What is their sleeping habit?

Either waking up every 1 to 2 hours, or only sleeping 30mins to 3 hours and then staying up for the rest of the night or start cleaning or smoking a cig outside.

[ancha-aus]

DoubleNoot AU Drabble - Next Steps

I got time! Time to write my version of what the next part of the DoubleNoot AU timeline is! Noot² for some :D

Last time on DoubleNoot Adventure! Corrupt split and caused the original Nightmare to return in the heat of battle! As a reaction he took his mates and the newly arrived child and took them back to his home and hideout.

@mikimakiboo Made their own version of this meeting but I also wanted to write it myself and how I see it happening :3 Still their drabble is amazing and everyone needs to show it love :D (yes i linked it last time but come on. This drabble is actually the counterpart to it!)

Also fair warning. I am keeping the pregnancy joke alive. I am not letting that go. It is too funny and too fitting for me. So... warning? discussions of mpreg.

No edits or beta we just going :D (warning. It is a long read.)

*----------------------------*

There... There is a tiny skeleton in his arms. A shaking and terrified skeleton. Corrupt glances around and very slowly places the skeleton on the couch. Only to have to dive back closer to catch him from falling over. Corrupt ends up putting Nightmare in the corner of the couch to enable him to lean against two sides.

There... Is a child. In his house.

One he had thought had died. Correction. One Corrupt had thought he had killed.

What... What does he do now?

Corrupt had reacted impulsive. He doesn't actually have a plan. He just knew he had to get himself and his mates away from the Stars, even if he already felt much better.

Okay. He needs to focus.

Corrupt needs to check his mates and make sure they are okay. Needs to make sure the Stars didn't hurt any of them while he crumbled.

Why is it so hard to look away from Nightmare? Corrupt can't look away. He keeps staring at the young skeleton.

He looks scared as he looks around the area. Pushing himself back against the couch as his chest moves quickly wiht his fast breathing. His clothes are absolutely filthy and goop isn't even the thing that makes it most dirty. Not there is still old dust and blood on his clothes which are ripped and also covered in mud.

But the bones? While also covered with dirt there isn't even a scratch on Nightmare. Which surprises Corrupt. Nightmare had his skull smashed in. Had suffered years of abuse of those villagers. Yet here he sits. Whole. Not as much as a bruise on him.

The only thing that seems wrong is that Nightmare seems to have lost control over his body, but he had also been inactive for 500 years so this may more be a matter of him having to relearn how to walk and move..

Okay. Stop. Think. Waht do you know for sure?

Corrupt just... split in two and Nightmare was removed from his being. Aparently he had Nightmare resting in his body since the apple accident. Maybe instead of forming from Nightmare he formed around Nightmare... it would explain why Corrupt never actually saw Nightmare or dust from him. Corrupt had always assumed that Nightmare hadn't dusted because of his treespirit nature.

Now.

Nightmare had been in his body, aparently slowly healing, and is now out of his body. Corrupt frowns. How come that he has Nightmare's memories in that case? Is it because Nightmare was the one to eat the apple? Does that mean that all those things he remembers and remembered feeling was all Nightmare and never his own.

Corrupt takes another depe breath to try and stay focussed. He still glances to make sure Nightmare is still where he left him. He is.

Okay. Corrupt will ahve to think about everything that this means later. Now he has to make sure everyone is okay... also make sure that Nightmare gets clean and situated. It... unnerves him to not have Nightmare with him. Corrupt doesn't knwo a lot but knows his being misses having Nightmare close.

"Euh... Moonlight?"

Corrupt frowns and turns slowly.

Killer looks between Nightmare and Corrupt "You know... I know we aren't always the most... serious bunch... but you could have told us you were pregnant... we could have handled it and could have helped."

It takes amoment before Corrupt sputters and glares at one of his mates "I wasn't pregnant!" He snaps but sees Ngihtmare flinch at the sound. Corrupt mentally decides to not shout anymore.

Killer just raises a brow as he crosses his arms before looking pointly at Nightmare "Really? Because that is a whole ass child-"

Cross shoots him a disapproving look "Don't curse!"

Killer blinks and looks over "The kid is already like... eight?" he tilts his skull at Nightmare.

Nightmare however shrinks in on himself as he tries to disappear into the couch.

Corrupt answers instead "He is ten actually. Just... tiny." he frowns. aparently Nightmare is just short? Corrupt himself is also short and he took some of his appearances over from Nightmare...

Killer frowns "Wait... ten years? How long have we all been together?" He looks very disappointed "We aren't the dads?"

Corrupt sputters again but manages to keep his voice down "I wasn't pregnant."

Horror speaks up as he glances up from his phone "According to the definition of giving birth which is: The emergence of a baby or other young from the body of its mother; the start of life as a physically separate being." Horror waves into the direction of Ngihtmare "Young." and he just looks pointedly at Corrupt.

Corrupt sighs as he rubs his face "I wasn't pregnant. I didn't give birth." he looks at Nightmare and frowns "I didn't even... i thought he was dead..." Nightmare stares back at him but gets a tiny frown on his face. Corrupt isn't sure what is on his face... probably grief. there always is grief when he thought about Nightmare.

Cross joins his side and holds his hand "hey... you could also have told us you miscarriaged... We could have helped..." he smiles.

Corrupt rubs his skull as he shakes his skull "No. I wasn't pregnant... Meet... Nightmare." Ngihtmare flinches at his name and when the others all start staring at him. Shit. Corrupt regrets that...

Dust frowns "I thought you said..."

Corrupt groans as he takes a deep sigh "I know... I know what i said. I thought the same. This is also very much a surprise for me."

"how do you know my name?"

silence and Crorupt looks back at Nightmare. Ngihtmare still looks terrified. He is obviously terrified. but he has a very tiny stubborn glare on his face. One hand has formed a fist and is shaking sligthly. Nightmare keeps staring at Corrupt specifically.

Corrupt blinks and speaks softly "I.... What do you remember?" does he remember everything that Corrupt remembered?

Nightmare frowns as he thinks before looks at Corrupt distrusting "You first. What do you know?"

Killer snorts "suspicious little fellow." he points at Corrupt "That is corrupt. I am Killer." he points everyone out as he names everyone. Corrupt is watching closely and can see more and more panick appear in Ngihtmare's posture as each name is given.

right... Very unfriendly names. Corrupt now regrets not agreeing to taking a friendlier name. He makes the decision as he walks over to Nightmare and takes a seat before him. He makes sure to keep his tentacles low but not to hide them, same for his arms.

Hidden limbs can attack him and hurt him. This way Nightmare can keep and easy eye on everything.

Corrupt speaks softly, making sure to keep his voice soft and quiet just in case "I must admit I am not quite sure myself anymore. I am Corrupt. When you ate the apple of the tree I formed. I always believed that you had died and I formed from that moment with the apple's magic and power... I was unaware you were with me the whole time. How are you feeling? What do you remember?" and he waits. He knows this is a lot of information.

Nightmare frowns as he looks down slightly. Thinking. He looks at his hand and frowns as he touches some of his fingers. Corrupt follows the sight and knows why Nightmare must be confused. The villages had smashed his phalanges with a large bat just days before the apple incident. Those breaks should have been there still.

Nightmare forms a fist again as he holds said hand with his other "I... I think i... remember eating it..." he frowns more before flinching. Corrupt frowns and looks over his shoulder. Right.

He sighs "Loves. please back up a tiny bit." the four had started to gravitate closer but they seem to realise the problem. They give some quiet sorries and back up a bit.

Corrupt looks amused at them before motioning towards the other couches and chairs "Just sit down for a moment." He first needs to get Ngihtmare to relax just a tiny bit. Corrupt doubts he can move alright just yet and Corrupt wants him to be at least a bit calmer before he tries to ask if Nightmare wnats to get clean.

His mates luckily all listen and sit down and get comfortable as they start checking each other. Corrupt smiles, that is good. This way he is at least sure that they are all alright and no one is hurt.

Corrupt turns back to Nightmare who is staring at him. But he looks away as soon as Corrupt looks at him. Corrupt chuckles "It is alright... I can only imagine I must look very strange to you."

Ngihtmare shrugs and mutters "Not... that weird..." he grins a tiny bit as he glances up at him "I am a treespirit..."

Corrupt chcukles and nods "true..."

Nightmare glances to the side and Corrupt realises what Nightmare must be glancing it. Corrupt slowly makes one of his tentacles raise a little and makes it wave.

Nightmare blinks and looks at Corrupt "Are those..."

Corrupt nods "They are... made of negative energy." he brings it closer "We got that in common. Both of us have powers connected to the more negative things to feel." he lets the tendril hover near Nightmare.

Nightmare stares at it before very slowly touching the tendril. As soon as he touches it the negativity and magic in his being reacts. Because the area around the tendril starts to shine and show of cyan coloured swirls.

Nightmare stares and starts to smile "wow... I didn't know my stuff could be pretty..." he touches one of the shown swirls wiht his other hands and the area of effect expands a tiny bit.

Corrupt nods as he mutters "Even if everyone looks down on negativity. It has its good adn beautiful sides. Everything has, including the negative emotions."

Nightmar elooks unconvinced and that doesn't surprise Corrupt. Nightmare is used to being harrassed, bullied, hurt and abused over what he was connected to. His powers and role only every brough him pain.

Maybe Corrupt can at least show him the more beautiful side of their emotional powers. Show it is a part of healing and growth. That it has a connection to justice and protecting others.

Nightmare ends up focussing back on the tentacle in front of him and watching their magic react to one another. Familiar and calm. Both magicks seem to know the other and it helps Ngihtmare feel safe.

Some movement by his side and Ngihtmare watches as Cross is now near him before sitting on the ground with his back against the couch. Ngihtamre shoots him a look for a moment before calming down when the other's attention isn't on him. Nightmare turns back to the tentacle.

Cross looks over nervously before turning to Corrupt "what... what is the plan? are we just... going to..." he shoots Ngihtmare a look "Can we just keep him?"

Nightmare freezes and grabs the tentacle tighter.

Corrupt frowns as he looks at Nightmare. The idea... of leaving him somewhere? No... they can't just leave him somewhere.

Cross rubs his arm as he continues to speak "Like... I am not... sure how good I am at this dad thing?" he cringes "But I can learn! probably." he grins as he looks nervous.

Killer laughs as he lounges on the other couch, obviously watching them "I mean. I think this one is dips for either Horror or Dust. You know. Cyan of Cors and red of either of them makes purple for little nightlight."

Nightmare shoots Killer a glare "I wasn't pregnant."

horror hums and nods "Dust then. I don't have enough magic to get anyone pregnant."

Dust shrugs "Cool. I am upper-dad."

Killer grins "It has been decided!" and he throws his arms out with a laugh.

Corrupt sighs deeply as he looks back at Nightmare however just looks at the other four. Looking a tiny bit more relaxed and with a slightly tilted skull.

Corrupt speaks softly "Are you okay with staying here for a little bit? I swear to you that no one will harm you here, ever." It is why he made this place. it was a place of safety and shelter. For himself and those he holds so dear.

Nightmare looks at him, looks at the others, then looks at where their magicks interact and strengthen each other. Nightmare frowns but nods "Okay..."

Corrupt smiles "Thank you." he looks at his mates "How do you four feel?"

Killer grins "A bit tired but nothing too bad."

Cross nods and sits up straight "We are ready to do whatever!"

Corrupt sees both Horror and Dust give their own okays before nodding "Cross and Killer, can you two go to Littletale and get some supplies? We will need clothes foremost but anything that can fit a ten year old is helpful." furniture will come later once they figure out which room is right for the tiny prince-

Oh... Corrupt is already considering calling him prince compared to his own king title...

Maybe his mates have a point about how this whole situation happened. He does feel very protective over Nightmare... Again things to consider when he has the time.

He focusses on the mission "Dust. If you can go around the castle and secure the place. Make it safer." a glance confirms that Dust shoots their training room a look before nodding. He had figured Dust would understand what he meant without having to point out how many weapons they have, which will just make Ngihtmare nervous.

He looks at Horror "Love?"

Horror grins and nods "I will be in the kitchen. Allergies?"

Corrupt shakes his skull and looks at Nightmare "Not that i can remember... Nightmare? Are there any things you don't like the taste or texture off?"

Nightmare looks confused "texture?"

Corrupt smiles "Well yeah... I know I dislike either quite a few things that feel strange to me to eat. Anything you don't like?"

Nightmare thinks before speaking "I don't like.... mushy stuff? feels weird to chew..."

Corrupt looks at Horror and Horror nods before looking at Nightmare "Anything you like?"

Nightmare blinks and actually focusses on Horror for a moment. His hold on his tentacle tightens but seems to relax when he sees that Horror just waits as he stays in place and doesn't get closer.

Nightmare looks away and shrugs "Don't have stuff that i really like..." he rubs the tentacle. maybe it helps to sooth him?

Horror nods "Fair enough. We will have to get you to taste test a few things to see what you like." and he walks off before he can get a reply.

The others had already quietly left the room which Ngihtmare registers as he looks around soft "They move quiet..."

Corrupt nods "I know. I hardly ever hear them. I notice them by sensing their emotions more than anything."

Nightmare looks up unsure "They... they won't get mad? Others always get mad when i... used that..."

Corrupt smiles and shakes his skull "They won't... Will you let me help you get cleaned up?"

Ngihtmare blinks and looks down only to stare at the mess he is. Clearly not having realised that "Oh... euh..." he looks unsure as he looks hard at Corrupt "You... ARe you the one who spoke to me?"

Corrupt frowns as he tilts his skull "spoke?"

Nightmare nods as he rubs his hand "When... whenever i was sad and scared... I always heard this voice... it was very quiet and begged me to stay near... let them help... Was that you?"

Corrupt frowns as he thinks back. trying to remember the voice that Nightmare speaks off. But he can't remember those moments... What he does remember instead are his dream. showing the other side of the same conversation. Corrupt looks at Nightmare "I must admit I am unsure myself. I do not have memories of my own from before you ate the apple. I do... however... have your memories. For a long time i beleived those to be my own."

Nightmare looks away ashamed and mutters "oh...."

Corrupt shakes his skull "You don't need to be ashamed... you are a child... you shouldn't have had the pressure on you that was placed on you... and those who hurt you... they are the ones who are wrong. You never did anything wrong."

Ngihtmare nods but looks sad "I... I thought you were that voice... you sounded familiar and... I felt like i knew you."

Corrupt frowns and speaks sfotly "There are however dreams i had. Dreams that I wasn't you. But looking on from the outside... unable to assist. But I wanted to help you."

Nightmare thinks it over before looking at Corrupt and nods "okay... I would like being clean..."

Corrupt smiles and carefully picks Nightmare up. Noticing now that any goop touching any bones on Ngihtmare causes the same effect as the touches to the tentacles had caused. He hadn't noticed in his panic before.

Corrupt slowly leaves the living room and goes towards the hall before going up the stairs. As he walks he points at each room and area as he softly explains what is what. Ngihtmare looks around in shock and mutters about it being an actual castle. Corrupt smiles as he feels the excitement slowly start to appear in the younger empath.

They get to Corrupts room and he takes Ngihtmare towards the bathroom. Ngihtmare looks around confused as his hold tightens "what?"

Corrupt speaks softly as he explaisn how the bathroom works before turning on the tab of the bath. Letting Nightmare feel the water before making sure the water is nice and comfortable. He lets Ngihtmare sit by the water and play wiht it as he goes to look through the soaps and brushes. Getting everything needed to help clean up the young skeleton.

It only takes a moment before Corrupt returns to Nightmare's side. Ngihtmare looks nervous at him before looking at the water "will... will the water hurt you?"

corrupt stops and stares at Ngihtmare. He had expected th young skeleton to be worried about being exposed and naked in front of someone he didn't know. instead he is worried about Corrupt.

Corrupt smiles "I will be fine. Water does not bother me." to show he puts his hand in the water and shows how his goop just doesnt'mix with the water, all the rises off him was some old dirt from the battle. Nightmare looks at it curiously and touches it. the goop still lights up when their magic meets.

Ngihtmare frowns "why does it do that?"

Corrupt hums and shrugs "I can only assume it is because our magics have a similar source. it recognises each other as-" family. He manages to stop himself.

Nightmare tilts his skull as he stares at him. a tiny smile appears on his face "I already got a mom though."

Corrupt sighs and looks at the younger monster "please don't start to. I already have four of them doing that joke."

Nightmare chuckles before looking at the water "Bath time?"

Corrupt nods and gently helps Ngihtmare out of his dirty clothes and into the water. Ngihtmare hums happily and relaxes. Corrupt looks him over but doens't see any scars or marks of the past wounds. completely healed.

Corrupt smiles "You really are healed..." It makes it worth it. Makes it worth having to experience the pain of Ngihtmare splitting from his body.

Nightmare looks in awe at his body "You healed me... You kept your promise."

Corrupt frowns as he starts helping the younger monster bath as he still can't quite move right yet "What do you mean?"

Ngihtmare hums as he relaxes into his hold, full trust "The voice... it said that if i just gave in. To accept help. That the pain would stop." he smiles "You stopped the pain."

Corrupt looks at him before smiling "I am happy I was able to help you. I was worried before... That i had hurt you... that eating the apple to make me, destroyed you."

Nightmare keeps looking at him. Some suspicion in his feelings before he relaxes and smiles back. believing him. Why would Nightmare just believe Corrupt on his word-

Oh... of course...

Nightmare and Corrupt are both empaths. They can feel the other and feel that they are both honest. That they don't want to hurt each other.

That is what the trust is build upon. Something that was clear instantly from their first interaction.

After that Corrupt just helps Nightmare get clean as Ngihtmare uses the water to slwoly move his limbs.

Nightmare looks unhappy with the uneasy movement.

Corrupt chcukles "You were asleep for a long time Nightmare. It will take some time before you regain your full movement again."

Nightmare looks at him "Why... why did Drema shoot you?" he looks so confused "Your magic is like mine... why would he attack you?"

Corrupt stops and sighs "Your brother hates me. Because He thought I killed you."

Nightmare frowns as he looks up at him "But... you didn't... it was.. them... the villagers... not you..." he frowns "did you tell Dream that?"

Corrupt sighs "I tried to explain it to him a long time ago... He didn't beleive me."

Nightmare just looks sad as he leans heavily into his hold "He never believed me either."

Corrupt frowns "I am sorry."

Nightmare shrugs as he moves the dirty water around "I am used to it..."

Corrupt rubs his shoulders "People believe what you say here. I promise. They will listen to you."

Nightmare frowns before nodding "okay."

Corrupt nods before smiling "Ready to get dressed?"

Nightmare frowns at the sad pile of clothes "i guess?"

Corrupt shakes his skull and stands up "You are comfortable right? stable? No leanign to the side?"

Ngihtmare looks unsure but nods "I am okay... No one will get in?"

Corrupt nods "no one will bother you." Ngihtmare accepts it and Corrupt quickly goes ot his closet and reaches around. It doesn't take long before finding a soft sweater and some sweats. He returns to the bathroom and helps Ngihtmare dry off before helping him get dressed.

Clean and comfrotable safely in his arms.

Corrupt looks at Nightmare "ready to get some food?"

Nightmare looks at him before nodding "okay."

Corrupt leaves his room and goes towards the kitchen to meet up with one of his mates. Hopefully the others will like and accept Nightmare as easily as Corrupt did.

[radiation]

My Thoughts On MORPHEUS

Rewatched The Matrix yesterday. Everyone knows that Morpheus is fucking dope, but few realize he is one of the most moe characters of all time. Here is why:

Ok so at the beginning of the movie, Morpheus really appears to be this mythical figure, and that's how a lot of ppl view him. But something often overlooked is that, as the movie progresses, the more you see Morpheus acting mundanely, dressing normally, making mistakes, and getting the absolute shit beaten out of him & needing to be saved. Seriously, the gap between how he comes off when he first contacts Neo (larger-than-life, near-omnipotent) and when he gets kidnapped (totally fallible & vulnerable) is huge. You also see other characters doubt his absolute faith in Neo and it’s like wow yeah. This is really just some dude who is incredibly driven and passionate, and dedicated to his own ideals to a fault. He acts the way he does because he has a very clear image of the role he needs to play and has structured his life around it, choosing to embody this whole badass character in order to fulfill it. And from the way his appearance of perfection is shattered later in the movie in moments of monotony or when things spiral out of his control, I really believe how he acts when he meets Neo is suuuuper scripted. Like he has spent so much fucking time planning the perfect way to present himself and rehearsing exactly what he will say and do and how he will dress. And its funny to watch The Matrix knowing how totally badass & collected he is seen as in pop culture because he truly is incredibly incredibly dorky

This goes without saying but I also believe he is gay as fuck for Neo, but I need you to understand that the way he goes about it is sooo cute. I mean ok everything surrounding "You are The One and I've been searching for you for years" kind of speaks for itself. But also think about when Neo talks to the Oracle, she says this thing about like "knowing you're The One is like knowing you're in love". We can naturally really easily extend this metaphor to Trinity's explicit prophecy of her falling in love with The One, and knowing that's the case that also extends the metaphor to Morpheus knowing Neo is the one = Morpheus being in love with Neo. And I think how excited he acts around Neo, how physically affectionate he to him, arguably flirting with him during the dojo scene and shit bla bla bla sounds lame as fuck to write but I do think yeah whether literally or metaphorically that's kind of what's up. I think we can be confident that Morpheus loves Neo, and I think romantic love is a close approximation, or at the very least there are certainly real & valuable parallels to be drawn to it

But back to the previous paragraph, the specific kind of devotion towards Neo that Morpheus experiences where he is putting on all kinds of airs trying to mystify Neo, viewing himself as a supporting figure to prop up Neo as the savior -- Morpheus's underlying adoration is expressed through the language of respect, restraint, and selflessness, and a kind of self-sacrifice he is like...excited about. Feels very similar to the whole "best friend who is in love with the main character, but nobly tries to get him another love interest / somehow make his life better without any respect to his own desires". It's very sweet and well-intentioned, but totally excessive. Nobody else is asking you to go this far man this is just you. And it also comes off as a really big obfuscation of at least quasi-romantic feelings, both externally and internally, lacking a lot of self-awareness, so it makes it feel like Morpheus has this like elementary school crush he doesn't quite understand yet and it's really funny and delightful

There is definitely a certain writing style in The Matrix that is dramatic, over the top, and mythological, but compared to Morpheus, Neo and other ppl in his crew speak and act in ways much more grounded. Something I noticed a lot is just how much doubt and disillusionment all of the characters express in living life outside the Matrix, in the effectiveness of the revolution, and of Neo being The One, but Morpheus is totally an exception to this. The only person who puts on nearly as much airs, acting as dramatically and poetically as according to plan as Morpheus is Agent Smith, and like the dude isn't even a person he's a program. But even then Agent Smith expresses disappointment in his own life, and Morpheus doesn't. Seriouusly Morpheus is like the only guy in the movie who does this shit. By seeing himself as a mechanism in a prophecy to save the world and minimizing his own wants and discomforts for the greater good, he has kind of dehumanized himself in a way that's kind of sad. I think it's very easy to buy into it and take his self-perception at face value, and I think most people have, but there are a lot of moments in the movie where you can see through that. That underneath the appearance of a pure legend is a real person who means the absolute best, who is endlessly dedicated and adoring, but suffers from a one-track mind makes Morpheus a really fucking cool and unique character, and has one of the greatest impacts in making the movie's scenario feel believable. And also makes him sooooooooo cute. Anyways I forgoet what happens in the other mvoies this is only about the first one. Rewatch The Matrix 1 and open your eyes and you weill see the truth.

Also another thing I wanna mention that but its only tangentially related -- I think its very interesting how Neo is treated as a protagonist. I can't place exactly why but way the movie is written and shots are framed, he really isn't treated as an audience insert, and many moments in the movie are from other characters' perspectives (including their perspectives towards him, bereft of Neo's own expression). The movie honestly, more than identifying with Neo, expresses empathy and adoration towards him. So it kind of feels like literally everyone in the movie has a crush on him and so should you LOL. Morpheus is definitely a part of this, but I also appreciate the romance between Trinity and Neo feeling equally or more from Trinity's perspective, neither of them really being the object of desire, but if you had to choose one it'd definitely be Neo

Well let me know what you think & Dont try to troll this post because this is real shit

[keekee-23]

Unexpected Melodies

A Damian Priest x Y/N fluff fanfiction

Side Note: Today is my birthday (Let the Libra season begin ♎️⚖️!), and I love me some jazz! I thought I would share another one-shot fic! Happy Fall, everyone!

Summary: Damian surprises Y/N with jazz festival tickets for her birthday, leading to a night of music and unexpected feelings between the two close friends.

Y/N was lounging in her New Jersey apartment, sipping on her favorite tea and reflecting on her upcoming birthday. It had been a tough year, filled with ups and downs, but she was grateful for the good friends in her life, especially Damian. Despite his busy wrestling schedule, he always found time to check in on her, offering words of encouragement and friendship that she deeply appreciated.

She glanced at her phone and saw a notification. It was a text from Damian: “Hey, what are your plans for your birthday this year?”

Y/N smiled, her heart warming at the thought of him remembering. She quickly replied, “Hey, D,” Y/N answered, leaning back on her couch.

“Hey, birthday girl,” Damian’s deep voice came through the phone, making her smile even wider. “Got any special plans for the big day?”

“Not really,” she admitted. “Just the usual dinner with the family. Maybe some drinks with friends. Nothing too crazy.”

There was a pause on the other end before Damian spoke again, his voice carrying a hint of excitement. “Well, I’ve got a little surprise for you.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Oh? What kind of surprise?”

“I’ll give you a hint,” Damian teased. “It involves music, relaxation, and spending some quality time with one of your favorite people.”

Y/N laughed. “Music and relaxation? Sounds like a spa day or something.”

“Not quite,” he said. “How do you feel about the South Jersey Jazz Festival?”

Her heart skipped a beat. The South Jersey Jazz Festival was one of her favorite events, and she hadn’t been able to attend in years. She loved jazz music, and the thought of being there, enjoying the performances and the atmosphere, made her giddy.

“I love the jazz festival,” she said, her voice full of excitement. “But what’s that got to do with—”

“Check your email,” Damian interrupted with a grin she could practically hear.

Furrowing her brow, Y/N quickly opened her email app. Her eyes widened as she saw a message from Damian with the subject line: Happy Birthday, Y/N! She clicked on it and gasped as she saw the attachment: two tickets to the South Jersey Jazz Festival.

“Damian, oh my God!” she exclaimed, her voice full of shock. “Are you serious?”

“Completely serious,” he replied, his tone smug. “I thought it would be a great way to celebrate your birthday. You love jazz, and I figured, why not?”

“But you’re into heavy metal!” Y/N protested, still reeling from the surprise. “Are you sure this is something you want to do?”

“I’m more into heavy metal, yes, but I also know how much you love jazz,” Damian said. “Besides, I think it’s high time I broaden my musical horizons. And who better to do that with than you?”

Y/N was silent for a moment, overwhelmed by his thoughtfulness. It wasn’t just the tickets or the festival itself; it was the fact that Damian was willing to step out of his comfort zone just to make her happy.

“You’re amazing, you know that?” she said softly, her heart full of gratitude.

“I try,” he said, a playful lilt to his voice. “So, what do you say? You and me, the jazz festival, your birthday?”

“Yes, absolutely yes!” she exclaimed, her excitement bubbling over. “Thank you so much, Damian. This is the best birthday surprise ever.”

“I’m glad you like it,” he said warmly. “I’ll fly up the day before, and we can hang out and catch up. It’s been too long.”

“I can’t wait,” Y/N said, her heart fluttering at the thought of seeing him again. “This is going to be so much fun.”

Two days later, Y/N found herself anxiously waiting outside the entrance to the South Jersey Jazz Festival. She glanced around the bustling crowd, her heart pounding with anticipation. When she finally spotted Damian, her heart did a little flip. He stood tall, his dark hair tied back, wearing a casual black button-up shirt and jeans—a stark contrast to his usual edgy wrestling attire. He looked surprisingly relaxed, even though he was completely out of his element.

“Hey, birthday girl!” he called out, waving as he made his way over.

“Damian!” Y/N ran up to him, wrapping him in a tight hug. “I can’t believe you’re here. And I can’t believe you did this for me.”

Damian hugged her back, his strong arms enveloping her in warmth. “I’d do anything to see you smile like that,” he said softly, pulling back just enough to look at her. “Ready for some jazz?”

“More than ready!” Y/N beamed, her excitement palpable.

As they walked into the festival grounds, Y/N couldn’t help but steal glances at Damian. She knew how different this scene was for him, yet he seemed at ease, more focused on her than anything else. The festival was alive with the sounds of saxophones, trumpets, and smooth melodies drifting through the air. Vendors sold everything from gourmet food to handmade crafts, and the crowd was a mix of jazz enthusiasts, families, and curious onlookers.

They found their seats near the main stage, the perfect spot to enjoy the performances. Y/N noticed Damian glancing around, taking in the scene with interest.

“So, what do you think?” she asked, her curiosity piqued.

“It’s… different,” he said with a thoughtful nod. “But not bad. I can see why you love it. It’s got a vibe.”

Y/N grinned, nudging him playfully. “You’re not secretly a jazz fan now, are you?”

He laughed, shaking his head. “Don’t push your luck, Y/N. But I’m here for you, so I’m willing to give it a shot.”

The first set began, and the music was mesmerizing. Y/N closed her eyes, letting the soulful notes wash over her. She felt Damian’s arm drape over the back of her chair, a casual, protective gesture that made her heart flutter. When she opened her eyes and turned to him, she found him watching her with a soft smile.

“What?” she asked, feeling a bit self-conscious under his gaze.

“Nothing,” he said, shrugging. “Just… I’m glad you’re happy. That’s all.”

Y/N felt a warmth spread through her chest. “I am happy. And it’s all thanks to you.”

They continued to enjoy the performances, laughing and talking between sets. Damian surprised her by knowing a few of the artists, which led to Y/N playfully accusing him of being a closet jazz fan. He took it all in stride, clearly enjoying the banter.

As the night wore on, the music became more lively, and the crowd began to sway and dance to the rhythm. Y/N watched couples twirling and moving to the beat, a wistful smile on her face.

“You want to dance?” Damian’s voice broke through her thoughts.

She looked at him, a bit startled. “Dance? I… I don’t know, Damian. I’m not exactly good at it.”

“Neither am I,” he admitted, standing up and holding out his hand. “But it’s your birthday, and I want to make it special. Come on.”

Y/N hesitated for only a moment before taking his hand. He led her to an open space where others were dancing, and they awkwardly began to move together. Y/N couldn’t help but laugh at the sight of Damian, a towering figure who could command an arena full of wrestling fans, now trying to sway gently to jazz music.

“You’re really out of your element, aren’t you?” she teased, her eyes sparkling.

“Completely,” he said, smiling down at her. “But I’d rather be here, looking like an idiot with you, than anywhere else.”

Y/N felt her heart skip a beat. She hadn’t realized just how much she’d needed this—this simple, joyful moment. As they swayed to the music, she rested her head on his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart. For the first time in a long time, she felt at peace.

The song ended, and they reluctantly pulled apart. Damian’s hand lingered on her waist, and for a moment, Y/N thought he might say something. But he simply smiled, his eyes warm and steady.

“You want to grab a drink?” he asked.

“Sure,” she replied, her voice soft.

They made their way to one of the nearby vendors, grabbing a couple of drinks and finding a quieter spot to sit. The night air was cool, and the stars twinkled above them. They sat close, their shoulders touching, comfortable in the silence.

“Thank you for today, Damian,” Y/N said quietly, staring at her drink. “I know it wasn’t your scene, but it means a lot that you came all the way here. You’ve been such a good friend.”

Damian looked at her, his expression unreadable. “Y/N, I didn’t just come because it was your birthday. I came because… I care about you. A lot. And I want to see you happy, more than anything.”

Y/N’s heart raced. She looked up at him, searching his eyes. There was something there—something deeper than friendship. But before she could speak, Damian leaned forward and gently kissed her forehead.

“Happy birthday,” he whispered, his voice filled with emotion.

Y/N closed her eyes, feeling a rush of warmth spread through her. “Thank you, Damian. For everything.”

They sat there for a while longer, talking and laughing, enjoying the night. And as they listened to the distant sounds of jazz music, Y/N realized that this was one of the best birthdays she’d ever had. Not because of the festival or the music, but because of the person sitting beside her.

With Damian by her side, everything felt just a little bit brighter.