#alternatively if you don’t like songs with lyrics

[oftheriverseine]

If you have some kind of sound related synesthesia PLEASE listen to Family Crest or Oh Hellos songs

[sundrop-writes]

The Patron Saint of Liars and Fakes

Spencer Reid x BAU!Fem!Reader

Summary:

While undercover inside the Separatarian Sect, you and Spencer realize something important: you can’t live without each other.

Spencer Reid x BAU!Fem!Reader. Co-Workers to Lovers. Fake Dating. Hurt and Comfort. Set during Season 4, Episode 3.

Word Count: 8,200

Criminal Minds Masterlist | AO3 Link

THIS IS A RE-POST. This is a fic from my old blog (a blog that was shadowbanned, forcing me to move). This fic is not stolen, it is completely mine, and I am just re-posting it to help people find my new blog, and to make my masterlist complete when I post new fics for this fandom.

Detailed warnings and author’s notes below the cut.

Warnings: Lots of spoilers for the canon episode - so if you haven’t watched Season 4 of Criminal Minds yet, steer clear of this fic for now (especially because watching the episode provides some context for this fic/makes things make more sense); the reader uses she/her pronouns and has the ability to get pregnant (she is not pregnant during the fic and there’s no smut, but due to discussions in the fic, it’s not unreasonable that she could get pregnant); fake dating in the form of a fake marriage - the reader and Spencer pretend to be married under the Christian religion to ‘appeal’ to Cyrus; because of the fake marriage, Spencer uses the term 'my wife’ to refer to the reader; lots of mentions of religion (Christianity), religious extremism, mentions of pedophilia/child brides (in line with the canon episode); mentions of systemic sexism and gender roles enforced by cultures of organised religion and religious extremism; use of y/n and l/n (in this case meaning 'your last name’); the reader pretends to follow the Christian religion while undercover but I never stated if she believes in a less extreme version of these things or not (the reader’s true religious beliefs are never stated); protective!Spencer, possessive!Spencer; mentions of Spencer being taller than the reader (which, again, I think he would be taller than most people) - the reader’s body/body type is not described in any other way; mentions of guns and gun violence (not described in deep detail) - in line with the canon episode; the reader and Spencer fear for their lives; dangerous/live-threatening situations; the reader and Spencer are threatened with a gun; Cyrus is just generally creepy and sexist toward the reader; Spencer is pistol-whipped and the reader is threatened with sexual assault (it does not happen, Spencer protects her); mentions of pregnancy/the reader being pregnant (she is not pregnant during the course of the fic); mentions of the reader being a mother/having kids (Spencer makes up fake kids to sell their fake marriage story); the reader realizes she might actually want to be a mother because of Spencer’s fake kids story; mentions of an explosion (as in the canon); love confessions; angst with a happy ending. Hopefully that is everything.

A/N: The title for this fic comes from a Fall Out Boy song of the same name. The theme/lyrics of the song don’t really fit the fic, but I love the way that this title fits - how everyone in this fic is lying in some way but Spencer is someone with good intentions while lying. Making him the Patron Saint of Liars and Fakes. I love how it fits. I wrote this while suffering with heat exhaustion so idk if it’s good or even makes sense. I rewatched the canon episode and it doesn’t 100% align with what happened in the episode in terms of the timeline and stuff, and I am too tired to rewrite the whole fic to make it align with the episode. So uh - alternative canon? But I really love the basic concepts and I do really love how it turned out. I hope you guys like it too!

...

You thought it would be an easy day. 

Maybe that was foolish on your part. So far, you hadn’t seen a single ‘easy’ day while working with the BAU. Between chasing down scumbags and then reliving every single gory detail while doing the paperwork - none of it was ‘easy’. It was worthy, accomplished work - making the world a safer place to live in. (At least that’s what you told yourself.) But it was never easy. 

There was always someone who made the job easier. Someone who made you smile every single day - especially on days when you didn’t think you were even capable of feeling a tiny shred of joy. Someone who made you feel safe, who you always felt had your back no matter what. So you were glad that he was by your side today, along for the ride. 

“Tell us about Cyrus.” Reid prompted. 

He looked to the woman driving, your new companion for the day - Nancy Lunde, someone who worked with the state department and had set up the interviews with the children at the Separatarian Sect. 

“Benjamin Cyrus. No criminal record. In fact, there’s no record of the guy at all.” Nancy explained. 

“That’s odd.” You commented. “Usually someone being accused of something like this would have some past offenses. Especially because it would give him a reason to move into isolation to continue the criminal pattern of behavior.” 

“Well, I couldn’t find anything on him.” Nancy shrugged. 

“What about the 9-1-1 call?” You asked. 

“A fifteen year old girl called in saying that a man was ‘laying with her’ and claimed it as ‘God’s will’. I believe the ‘he’ referred to is Cyrus.” Nancy explained. “The age fits with Jessica Evanson, but I’ve managed to negotiate interviews with all the children, just to be sure. It wasn’t easy.” 

“They’re incredibly weary of outsiders.” You commented. “Our boss warned you not to identify us as FBI, right?” 

Nancy nodded. “I got you some spare credentials, just in case.” 

She took one of her hands off the wheel and reached into her pocket.

“You’re going to be using your real names. You’re going in as Child Victim Interview Experts working with Child Protective Services. No association with the FBI.” Nancy explained, handing Reid your fake credentials. 

He nodded, inspecting the IDs before handing you yours where you were sitting in the backseat. 

“Oh, before I forget.” You noted, reaching into the pocket of your cardigan. “The rings.” 

You pulled out a small plastic bag that Hotch had given to you before you left. It was a bag containing a fake diamond ring in your size and a fake golden ‘wedding’ band for Spencer. 

Reid reached over the seat to grab his ring from you, and Nancy gave the two of you an odd look. 

“Rings?” She questioned. 

“Fake wedding bands.” You explained. 

“It was our Unit Chief’s idea.” Reid added on. “He believes that presenting us as a ‘godly’ married couple to Cyrus will make him more likely to open up to us. He’s less likely to see us as hostile outsiders if he believes that we share a similar system of beliefs.” 

“It could also have a calming effect on the teenagers we have to interview or the kids there who have had more time to go through indoctrination at the Sect.” You continued to explain. “Even if their parents are hesitant to let the kids speak with us, they may be more willing to have their child speak with us or even leave them alone with us if they believe that we’re fellow Christians, rather than hostile atheists there to poison their children’s minds.” 

Reid nodded at you through the rearview mirror. 

“Make sure you put on the left hand.” He told you. “That’s the position for marriage.” 

You nodded at this. 

You placed the ring in the appropriate position, and you couldn’t help but to take a moment and stare at it. It was jarring to have a wedding ring on - especially with the thought that it represented you being married to Spencer. But you supposed, of all the people to call your husband, he would be one of the best. He was honest, intelligent, kind, and… if you were pressed, you would definitely say he was handsome. 

But you couldn’t get too caught up thinking about all of that. Because it wasn’t real. It was a false projection you were wearing for the benefit of a self inflated sociopath. 

Spencer liked the feeling of the ring. He didn’t take too long to stare at it after he had put it on, because he knew his mind would wander if he did. When Hotch had first proposed the idea of the two of you pretending to be married, Spencer had almost tripped over himself to oppose it - mostly because he didn’t think that he would be able to handle simply pretending to be your husband for the day. It was just too cruel. 

Having something he wanted so badly dangled right in front of him and knowing that it was all just a farce - it bothered him, but he delighted in the play nonetheless. 

When he caught the fake gold glinting in the light, Spencer had to remind himself that it was fake - that you would just be playing his wife for the day. He had to push back any internal glee that he felt at the idea that he got to be ‘taken’ by you while wearing that ring. It wasn’t real. It was just for the day. 

“Isn’t that deceptive?” Nancy asked. “Won’t Cyrus be even more angry if he finds out that it’s not true?” 

“He won’t find out.” You replied confidently. “And besides, we use deception in interrogations all the time. It’s a very basic tactic: align yourself with the suspect. Make them think you share the same beliefs, that you’re on their side.” 

Reid grinned at this. He always loved it when you spoke so confidently. 

… 

“We’re looking for Mr. Benjamin Cyrus.” Nancy announced as the three of you got out of the car. 

“Then you’ve found him.” Cyrus announced confidently. 

He was pretty much what you had expected him to be - dressed informally, slouched over, faking meekness, holding a bible near his chest as though it were a shield. He had planted himself there purposefully, wanting to be the first person to interact with the outsiders as three of you came into the Ranch. 

You hovered back near Spencer, letting Nancy make the first introduction. 

“I’m Nancy Lunde.” She said, giving a small nod toward the man. “We spoke on the phone regarding the allegation.” 

“‘Savages they call us, because our manners differ from theirs.’” Cyrus rhymed off a quote, obviously positioning himself and his group as martyrs being attacked for having ‘different ways’ that the world simply didn’t understand. 

“We didn’t come here to hear you cite scripture, Mr. Cyrus.” Nancy reminded him, hoping to keep the religious zealot on track. 

“Actually, it’s Benjamin Franklin.” Reid corrected her, talking about the quote. 

That did surprise you, but you didn’t find it surprising that Reid knew this fact right off the top of his head. It was just one of the many amazing things about him - his perfect memory and his ability to use it. 

Of course, him saying this immediately drew Cyrus’ attention toward the two of you. So Spencer stepped up to introduce you. 

“Hello, I’m Spencer Reid, and this is my wife, Y/N L/N.” He said motioning toward himself and then to you as he introduced the two of you. Hearing him refer to you as his wife - you hated to say it, but it caused a jolt through your system. Almost as if you had been waiting forever to hear him say those words and hadn’t even known it yourself. “We’re Child Victim Interview Experts, here on behalf of Child Protective Services.” 

Of course, you couldn’t get too caught up in deciphering how those words made you feel, because you had to focus on the task at hand. The job that you were here to do. 

“How far from God’s word must we have strayed for there to be a need to invent a job called ‘Child Victim Interview Expert’.” Cyrus said, his tone even, quiet. 

You knew that covertly, it was his way of saying that the two of you didn’t belong there, because he ran the Ranch with God’s word, so nobody had actually been harmed (in his opinion). He believed that he had done nothing wrong. Obviously, he thought your time and resources were better spent with ‘actual’ victims who didn’t have his power wielded over their lives. 

“I can assure you, Mr. Cyrus, we try to bring God into our work.” You told him, trying to appeal to him. “The children we visit usually need prayer and God’s light the most.” 

Spencer gave you a sideways glance, clearly holding back a grin at how thick you were pouring it on - how much intense, feigned passion you said these words with. 

“Well, I can assure you that a lack of prayer and God’s light is certainly not an issue for the children here.” Cyrus said, giving you a clever little grin. He thought that you would simply interview the children, praise him for what a good job he had done, and then leave. “You can go and see the children whenever you like. They are up at the school, as I indicated in our phone call.” 

Nancy walked toward the school, and you paused before you followed. 

Before you walked off, you looked to Spencer. In a completely silent conversation that only worked so well because the two of you had been in so many tense situations before, thinking around UnSubs and planning miles around them before they could even know it, he gave you a small nod and you instantly knew what it meant. He had established a small bit of trust with Cyrus, so he would stick back and see what else he could get out of the man. 

You nodded back, and then - completely surprising yourself, you leaned in and kissed Spencer on the cheek. You were just playing the part, you told yourself. It’s not that it felt entirely instinctive to say goodbye to him with some kind of affection, like the many hugs you had given him before. It’s not that you felt so entirely scrutinized with Cryus’ piercing eyes on you, and you needed the anchor of Spencer’s touch. 

You were just playing the part. 

Spencer tried not to get caught on being kissed on the cheek like he was some blushing virgin, and instead, focused his attention back on Cyrus instead of watching you walk away. (Even though every single one of his instincts told him that he needed to keep a more careful eye on you because you both had to leave your guns in the car.) 

He took a step closer to where Cyrus was leaning on the concrete, and easily picked a topic of conversation. 

“Solar panels.” Reid said, motioning to the large devices sitting behind Cyrus on the grass. 

“Yes.” Cyrus nodded. “We’re completely self-sufficient here. Food, electricity, water. Benjamin Franklin said ‘God helps those who help themselves’.” He explained. “You look surprised.” 

“No, uh, impressed, actually.” Reid easily lied, trying to appeal to his ego. 

“Thank you.” Cyrus said. “Most men wouldn’t admit that.” 

“Well, I suppose that I’m not like most men.” Reid shrugged in return. 

“How long have you been married?” Cyrus asked, motioning toward Reid’s ‘wedding ring’. 

Reid panicked slightly, knowing that the two of you likely should have coordinated this story during the plane ride to Colorado so that your answers to these simple questions wouldn’t be different. But he just made up an answer and hoped that nobody else would ask you the same question and find out the deception. 

“Three years.” He said. “I’ve been very blessed.” 

He used the language purposefully, knowing that the simple phrase could get him on Cyrus’ good side. That, and he hoped it would draw the attention away from any possible signs of his blatant lie. 

“Your wife is very beautiful.” Cyrus commented. 

He gave a wicked smirk as he said this. It was a simple, fairly ‘innocent’ comment, but it was immediately off-putting to Spencer. It took everything in his body not to glare daggers at Cyrus or throw out some protective comment in return. He could only imagine what was going through Cyrus’ mind as he thought about you, and he hated even imagining it. 

Reid knew that it was a basic logical good, the instinct to protect you because you were his partner on this case and he was supposed to have your back. But it was also something more. Something in every fiber of his being that screamed you were his and no man should ever be thinking of you that way except for him. 

“Has it been a godly union?” 

He was lucky when Cyrus spoke again and distracted him from his mounting rage. 

“We try to be as godly as we can be.” Spencer took the simple, diplomatic answer. 

“Your wife didn’t take your last name.” Cyrus pointed out. 

Nancy had used your name on your false credentials because Hotch had only come up with the fake marriage idea the day before. There hadn’t been time to inform her about it and have ‘Reid’ put on your ID as your ‘married’ name. So he had introduced you by your name to keep everything consistent with the reuse. 

It did make Spencer wonder if you would keep your last name if the two of you ever did get married. It made him almost dizzy, thinking about you as ‘Mrs Reid’. Thinking about your kids having his name. Or your name, if that’s what you wanted. 

But naturally, he pushed past all those thoughts and formed an excuse. 

“Typically, married women aren’t very well perceived in our line of work.” He quickly excused. “She doesn’t even get to wear her ring that often. She couldn’t change her name on paperwork at our office because a working married woman… it’s heavily frowned upon.” 

“Well, I’d have to agree.” Cyrus grunted. “A woman shouldn’t be out working. A woman should be at home raising a family.” 

“I - I suppose you’re right.” Reid agreed through gritted teeth. 

He walked away toward the school before he got too angry again. 

… 

A few hours later, everything had gone to hell. 

Some authority - the police, the military, you didn’t even know - had charged into the Ranch shooting. In response, Cyrus and his followers had come into the school toting large semi-automatics asking you and Spencer if you knew about a raid. 

You didn’t. You wish you had known about a raid. You would have warned Hotch and gotten them to call it off. You certainly would not have been there while it was happening. 

When they had pointed those guns in your face and forced you into the tunnels - it wasn’t very difficult to pretend to be Spencer’s wife then. Cowering in the bunker, confused and scared, you flung your arms around his waist almost instinctively, and he buried his nose in the top of your hair as he wrapped his arms around your shoulders like a shield, promising you that everything was going to be okay. 

Whispered to you like that, coming from him - it was almost easier to believe. Even with the chaos going on around you and the fear pumping through you in response. 

Nancy had run off trying to get them to surrender and did not come back. You had a feeling that you knew what that meant. 

And now, with the kids from the school ‘evacuated’ into the church, you were being held in the cellar at gunpoint. They had forcefully separated you and Spencer, making you sit in chairs at opposite sides of the room.

Spencer was fidgeting. His eyes kept flickering from the door, to you, to the man standing beside you holding the very large gun. 

You knew that you had ugly tear tracks down your face, and oddly enough - you wanted nothing more than to be back in his arms. As you were forced to sit there, just a few feet across the room away from him - you ached for it. 

There was a very large possibility that you were going to die today. And you selfishly needed the comfort of being in the arms of someone familiar - someone safe. Someone you knew would never hurt you. Someone who had made you laugh with dumb science jokes and puns for the last five years that you had worked together with him. 

When Cyrus charged back into the room with two men flanking his sides, you and Spencer stiffened up once again. 

“God will forgive me for what I’m about to do.” Cyrus announced to the room, presenting a handgun from his belt. 

Your insides quaked, and Spencer’s eyes grew wide. 

You couldn’t contain the fearful whimper that erupted from the back of your throat when he raised that gun and placed it near the middle of Spencer’s forehead. You clasped a hand tightly over your mouth to keep yourself from crying out in protest, knowing that would only make things worse. 

“Which one of you is the FBI Agent?” Cyrus asked firmly. 

Which ‘one’? 

So he knew that you were undercover, that you had lied about your job titles - but he thought that only one of you had done so. Where the hell was he getting his information? 

“I - I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Spencer told him quietly, looking him in the eye the entire time. 

You hoped that his stutter could be passed off as nervousness from the gun being pointed in his face, and wouldn’t be pointed to as deception. 

“Which one of you is it?” Cyrus pressed. 

“We are not FBI Agents.” Spencer said, more confidently this time. “We are Child Victim Interview Experts. We were only sent here to ensure the wellbeing of the children. Nothing more, nothing less.” 

Well, that last part wasn’t a lie. 

“You’re lying.” Cyrus told him, entirely confident in this. “God expells those who lie, devils in sheep’s clothing.” 

There was a tense moment, and then Cyrus cocked the gun. 

Spencer didn’t flinch. You resisted the urge to scream. 

“Proverbs 12:22 says: ‘The Lord detests lying lips, but he delights in those who tell the truth.’” Cyrus said, actually citing scripture this time. 

He was giving Spencer one last chance to tell the truth. As if using the bible verse to say that his punishment would be lesser if he simply told the truth now. 

Spencer didn’t take the bait. 

“I’m not lying.” Spencer said firmly. “What? You think I wouldn’t know if - if my wife was an FBI Agent? This is the woman I wake up next to every single morning, the woman I go to sleep next to every single night, we work together every single day, we-” 

Cyrus interrupted Spencer’s ranting with a sharp hit to the face, pistol whipping him across the cheek. 

This caused Spencer to go flying off the chair, and you couldn’t help when you let out a wounded cry. It took everything in you not to jump out of your own chair and rush to Spencer where he had collapsed onto the ground, clutching his cheek. 

“Someone is going to tell me the truth.” Cyrus said gruffly. 

“It must have been Nancy!” You said, the idea finally popping into your head. 

You seemed to be more clever with the pressure of Spencer’s life being threatened. Cyrus stared you down, turning his attention fully toward you now. You caught Spencer’s eye for a moment and he gave you a small nod - as if to say ‘yes, keep going with that’. 

“The woman we came in with! Nancy!” You reasoned, continuing to point the finger at the woman you had to assume was dead. “We - we just met her today. Our boss introduced us to her, but we had never met before that. If she was FBI, we had no clue. We swear.” 

Cyrus turned to you then, and tightly pressed the barrel of his gun into your forehead. You could feel the imprint of it so tight in your skin that it hurt, and you could only lean away so far before threatening to knock the chair backwards. 

“It’s very convenient to pin this crime on someone who isn’t here.” He grunted at you. 

“It’s the truth.” You sniffled out quietly. 

“Hmm.” Cyrus hummed thoughtfully, and then, much to your surprise, he removed the gun barrel from your forehead. 

You barely had a moment to breathe in relief before he began skimming the gun down your neck, touching the metal whisper-gentle across your bare skin - clearly taunting you. It was something that made your whole body stiff with alarm, and caused Spencer’s eyes to go wide once again.

“Perhaps I should strip you naked to ensure that you’re not wearing a wire.” Cyrus said, teasing the gun along the buttons at the front of your cardigan. 

You held back a sob at the thought of it - at the idea that he could make you do almost anything for the fear of you being shot. Truthfully, you were more afraid of what he might do to Spencer if you didn’t comply, but it was all the same in your mind now. His life was just as valuable as yours, and you would do whatever it took to protect him.

Before Cyrus could take these threats any further, a heroic voice intervened. 

“That’s enough!” Spencer yelled. 

He gathered himself off the floor and oddly enough, none of the men moved to stop him as he came to stand beside Cyrus. Perhaps they didn’t see him as a threat. Perhaps it was because Cyrus didn’t bark any orders at them to stop him. He was entirely unflinching, keeping his focus on you and keeping his gun held between your breasts as Spencer crowded into his personal space, trying to press himself between you and the awful man. 

“We’ve told you everything that we know.” Spencer told him lowly, his voice heaving with well controlled anger. It was something that you had rarely ever heard from him. 

Cyrus kept his eyes locked on you, so Spencer continued. 

“We don’t know anything about the FBI - we have a simple job advocating for children who have been abused. That is it. We came here to investigate a most likely false claim against someone in your community and we truly didn’t mean to get caught up in all of this.” He said firmly, clearly trying to appeal to Cyrus. “So I suggest you get that gun away from my wife before you and I truly have a problem.” 

Spencer’s voice was dark, so thick with rage. More pent up rage than you had ever heard from him when he was talking to any suspect, people who had done the worst of the worst. Something about Cyrus threatening you had truly boiled his insides. 

The way he said the words ‘my wife’ - growling it out like he was a feral animal and this threat to you had activated every single one of his protective instincts. Hearing it made something inside of you yearn for him on such a deep level that you didn’t know was possible. You wanted to feel that kind of protection cast over you every single day. It made you feel invincible, having Spencer watch over you like that. 

Cyrus lowered the gun then, and Spencer grabbed your arm as you dissolved into hysterical tears. Instinctively, he lifted you up into his arms. You thought that you heard Cyrus mumble out ‘my apologies’ as he left the room - but he was barely on your radar. Your entire world became narrowed down to nothing but Spencer, your safety net as he built a wall of protection around you. 

He used his height to block you from seeing anything but him, letting you push your face into his chest as you cried. He wrapped you in his arms once again, letting you feel truly safe for a few moments as you sobbed into the fabric of his sweater. Your arms clutched desperately at his waist, needing to keep a hold on him - needing to ensure that he didn’t leave you. 

“Hey, shh. Shh. It’s okay.” He said, leaving gentle kisses on the top of your forehead and your hair, rubbing across your back with one hand, comforting you in the only way he could in those moments. “It’s gonna be okay.” 

Of course, he wanted to break down too. But he had to be strong for you. 

“Spencer,” You called his name in an utterly wounded voice, pulling away from his chest to look up at him. 

When you saw his injury up close - a sharp, purple-red bruise that was blooming across his cheek, it looked so utterly painful. Your insides ached at the thought that he had taken a blow for you. You hated to imagine what more they could have done to him if they had not believed your lies. 

You instinctively reached a hand up to touch it and he caught your fingers halfway, instead, gently grasping your hand and laying it on his chest. The intimacy felt so oddly rehearsed - so worn in, so ‘normal’. It felt like you had been married to Spencer for years. Like it wasn’t a play at all. 

Your two souls had been calling out to each other for years, just waiting for the dam to break. But you couldn’t quite put it into words - not like that. 

“It’s okay.” He said quietly, knowing you were horrified by the injury. 

He was so gentle, so comforting, so calm. Everything the men pointing guns at you were not. Unlike Cyrus - Spencer Reid was a true blessing from God. 

You couldn’t hold yourself back then. 

You surged up and kissed him, fully embracing his mouth with yours in a kiss. Though it was so sudden, it was something he easily returned. The kiss so full of urgency, so needy, so passionate. Like he was trying to tell you that it was okay, that he would protect you no matter what. 

He would protect you because you belonged to him. 

In those moments, the two of you were basically alone. One of Cryus’ men was guarding the door, watching on boredly. But Cyrus was off in the church, funneling people in to prepare for his ‘loyalty’ test. It didn’t matter if he saw you kissing or not - it wouldn’t have sold the reuse of you being married any better. 

This was just for the two of you. This was comfort. 

When you pulled back from the kiss, Spencer looked stunned, almost as if he couldn’t believe what had happened. You didn’t give him time to question it. 

“Thank you.” You said quietly. 

It was twofold:

Thank you for protecting me. Thank you for giving me comfort. 

Spencer didn’t have too much time to marinate in the meaning of the kiss before Cyrus’ men came back and fetched the two of you, wanting you to observe the loyalty test. 

… 

After the mock poisoning (which Spencer figured out rather quickly, making you admire his cleverness once again), Cyrus kept you and Spencer in the church with a few of his closest, most loyal followers while all of the low level followers dispersed back to their homes. 

You and Spencer were lingering in the back quietly while Cyrus was on the other end of the room, talking to his men about how to proceed. The plans for their ‘final stand’. 

“We need to get some kind of signal to the others.” Spencer whispered quietly. “Maybe they’ll take pity on you and let you go if-” He swallowed sharply, cutting himself off abruptly. Oddly enough, he didn’t want to voice whatever was on his mind. 

“If what?” You probed. You wondered what the hell you could possibly be thinking. 

“If we tell them that you’re pregnant.” He said, whispering so lowly that you almost didn’t catch the words. 

You rolled your eyes sharply at this. 

You had gotten married and had kids all in one day. What a miracle. 

(In those moments, clouded by fear, you couldn’t see it for what it truly was - Spencer blatantly revealing his unconscious desires to have a baby with you.) 

“We could convince them to release you. As a show of good faith. A pregnancy would be good leverage in that. You know how religious people are about fetuses-” Spencer reasoned. 

“Yeah, and what if they give me a test?” You probed, punching a large hole in his logic. “We don’t know what kind of infirmary they have here. They obviously believe in modern technology. What if they want to give me an ultrasound to check on the fetus after the stress of the day? To prove that they did no harm to the precious unborn child,” 

Spencer was easily caught on this point. If they examined you and found that you weren’t pregnant, all the lies would fall apart. 

“Well… what if we tell them that you have a baby at home that you need to get back to?” Spencer reasoned, jumping to the next logical conclusion in his mind. “It’ll likely garner the same level of pity.” 

“Your imaginary sperm is powerful, isn’t it?” You whispered back sharply. Spencer rolled his eyes this time. But he didn’t redact the plan as unreasonable, so you continued on. “Okay, what do I even do when I get out there? I’m not gonna be of any use to the tactical team. We don’t know what Cyrus’ final play is yet.” 

Truthfully, you couldn’t bear to be separated from Spencer. Knowing that he was inside, potentially being beaten up more, potentially being shot and bleeding out from a wound without you knowing - it would kill you with stress. You need to be by his side. You needed to know that he was okay. 

“Has God blessed your union with any children?” Cyrus appeared behind you suddenly. 

You wondered if he had heard you say the word ‘pregnancy’ or if this was just a random topic that had come up in his mind. 

His sudden appearance behind you caused you to whip around and crowd into the comfort of Spencer’s arms again because you were frightened. Naturally, Spencer wrapped his sheltering touch around your shoulders. Your back was gently pressed into Spencer’s front, his arm shielding you protectively as it was wrapped around your chest, holding you with his hand on one of your shoulders, unconsciously stroking his thumb across the fabric of your cardigan. The position had you both facing Cyrus, watching the fan in an offensive way. 

And of course, Spencer didn’t miss a beat. 

“Yes.” Spencer answered easily. “We have two kids at home. A boy and a girl. Iris and Hugo. Iris is almost three years old and Hugo is eleven months. His first birthday is coming up in June.” 

You knew that Spencer could be very good at talking off a suspect��s ear under pressure, but when you heard him rattle off these ‘facts’ so easily, it hit you. 

This wasn’t simply statistics or physiological knowledge - this was a very elaborate backstory for your supposedly real marriage. Perhaps he had thought about all of it on the car ride up (which was odd not to share it with you, in case Cyrus asked you a similar question and your answer didn’t match up with Spencer’s). 

But if you weren’t mistaken, this wasn’t simply a backstory for your fake marriage during the undercover mission. This was a fantasy of his. Those were names he had lovingly chosen for your imaginary children - kids he had dreamed up in his head and wanted to be real. 

Your heart ached at the thought of it. You found yourself missing a set of children that weren’t even real. (And distantly, wanting to jump his bones to make it a reality.)

“Tell me, Mr. Reid, would you find it so shameful for your daughter to marry young?” Cyrus asked. 

You found it odd to hear Cyrus call Spencer ‘Mr. Reid’, but you realized that he hadn’t introduced himself as ‘Doctor’ in this setting. You held your tongue when you felt the need to correct him as you had so many other people, wanting Spencer to receive his proper title. 

Your mind almost couldn’t focus on the question that Cyrus had asked. Of course, he was trying to get Spencer to stroke his ego once again. Basically admitting that the whole reason the two of you had come here was true - he was being vastly inappropriate with a young member of the church, and getting away with it. And he saw nothing wrong with it. 

And he was trying to get an outsider to admit that he saw nothing wrong with it too. 

When there was a moment of silence - Reid obviously torn on how to answer the question, Cyrus continued. 

“Is there really something so wrong with a blooming young woman marrying a man who will protect her under God’s laws?” He probed, his voice so entirely confident. Clearly confident that he was right. 

“Well, I’m not sure if I would let my daughter get married so young.” Reid said, finally speaking up. “I just know that I would want her to marry a man that would protect her, and be the best possible fit for her. Someone who would cherish her and be good to her no matter what.” 

His answer made you swoon. You reached up and gently gripped his forearm in response, giving a light squeeze to show your approval. He leaned in and kissed the back of your head - dizzyingly, you were imagining him walking your imaginary daughter down the aisle before you had even gotten married yourself. 

Maybe it was being so close to death, being threatened in such dangerous territory that was causing your life to accelerate at light speed in your mind. If you were going to lose everything, you might as well enjoy the escapism of a fake life with a beautiful man in your mind instead of being stuck on the heart pounding terror of being held hostage, right? 

Surprisingly, his words drew a smile from Cyrus. 

“You’re a protective father, aren’t you?” Cyrus asked. 

“Of course.” Reid confirmed. 

“I can always admire that in a man.” Cyrus nodded. “A man should always pride himself on protecting his family.” 

There was another moment of pause, and you were hoping that the topic had been dropped completely. 

“Do you have a picture of your children with you?” Cyrus asked. 

You wondered if - in a different version of reality, where you and Spencer really were married, where Hugo and Iris really did exist - if you had a picture of them in your pocket, would Cyrus only be asking this so he could use the picture to taunt the two of you? What other purpose would he have for knowing what your children looked like? 

“Unfortunately, no.” You answered. “I keep my family pictures on my desk. In my office. We - we’ve just been praying to get back to them safely.” 

Cyrus seemed perturbed at you mentioning that you had an office. Something dark flickered over his features for a moment and then disappeared. 

“Well… if it is right, God will grant you that safe passage.” Cyrus said. 

Just when you truly thought the conversation was done, he said something to you that entirely grinded under your skin. 

“I find it entirely odd that a mother of two young children spends her days working a job where she takes care of other people’s children, rather than staying at home with her own youngins where she belongs.” 

He said, using that same entirely confident, righteous tone that he always did. Even though you were not really a working mother, you had a hard time not boiling with anger at the sexism ripe in his statement. 

“How much must you be missing of your sweet angels lives to instead partake in the horrors of devils you shouldn’t have to witness.” 

Of course. 

You had a hard time not rolling your eyes at this or saying something harsh that would set him off. Instead, you reached up to Spencer’s arm around your shoulder, squeezing his fingers, trying to keep your patience.

“I’ll have you know that Y/N is an amazing mother.” Spencer piped up, knowing that Cyrus respected him enough as a man that he wouldn’t beat him simply for speaking up. “Her nurturing and caring makes her infinitely better at her job.” 

Again, you knew that there was so much personal truth in Spencer’s words. He thought that you would make an amazing mother to his children - at least theoretically. He was entirely firm in that conviction. And he thought that your natural caring made you amazing at the job you did as a Profiler. He knew this from the quality of work he witnessed you doing every single day. 

You didn’t know it - but it was just one of the many things that had caused him to fall in love with you. 

Oddly enough, Cyrus’ words prodded at something deep inside of you. It made you imagine a life for yourself where you weren’t spending your days witnessing horrors from unspeakable devils - but instead, at home, looking out for Spencer’s imaginary children. 

You would have said it was the fear of the day, clouding your mind. But maybe it was the clarity of being so close to death that made you realize what - and who - you truly wanted out of life. 

… 

Hours later, after some of the hostages had been released (the ‘non-believers’ who had failed the loyalty test), Cyrus had requested that some food be sent up. Spencer gave you a sharp look when he saw the message written on one of the takeout lids. 

The team would be storming in to end the hold-out at 3am. You had to somehow ensure the safety of the hostages by then. 

Obviously, the fake pregnancy idea was still warping through Spencer’s mind, but you had come up with some much better. 

“Cyrus,” You called out his name gently, getting his attention. “You said that you have a nursery here?” 

It had come up, during his long winded bragging about how perfect the Ranch was. Something about how mothers didn’t have to raise their children alone. The children were raised as more of a ‘group effort’ and women took ‘shifts’ in the nursery, allowing the women to rest or get chores done in the interim. 

“Yes, we do.” He nodded. 

Spencer stared at you with his jaw set, wondering what you were doing but not daring to speak. 

“I - I’ve been missing my children dearly. I was wondering if I could go to your nursery and see if they need any help? It would do my soul good to be around young ones right now. After all the commotion of these days.” You spoke meekly, trying to play the part of the shaken up, dainty woman well. 

Which was too difficult, seeing as you were playing up the fear you had already experienced. 

He grinned. It was a rather menacing smile, and you tried your hardest not to show any further fear, or disgust. 

“That sounds like a splendid idea.” He nodded. “Christopher, why don’t you escort her down to the nursery and then come back? We need you here for our final preparations.” 

You were finally falling to those gender roles that he had been pushing on you since you had arrived. He didn’t suspect a thing. He simply thought that you were a God fearing woman falling to your natural womanly instincts, needing to care for children lest your womb shrivel up and you die. 

Spencer rose from his seat and Cyrus stopped him. 

“Just your wife.” He said, putting a hand in front of Spencer’s chest to stop him. “There are still some things you and I need to discuss. Man to man.” 

You went over to Spencer and didn’t hesitate to plant a kiss firmly on his mouth, which he returned with vigor. This one lasted only a moment - it was something precious for the two of you. You didn’t need to put on some pointed show for the men in the room. 

“It’s okay.” You told Spencer quietly, brushing your fingers gently over his uninjured cheek. 

You could tell that he was dying to ask you what your plan was. But he kept the words trapped in his throat, unable to speak in front of the many temperamental villains lurking about. 

“Come on.” Christopher grunted. 

Spencer gave you a longing look as you left. He didn’t want to think it, but as he watched your figure retreat out the door, he feared that it would be the last time he ever saw you. 

… 

Your plan worked flawlessly. 

Getting to the nursery meant that you had unsupervised access to the women and children, especially away from Cyrus’ prying ears. Because you were a ‘delicate’ woman, nobody suspected you of having ulterior motives. You easily found a crack in Kathy, Jessica’s mother. You spotted her as the one who had made the original 9-1-1 call, wanting to get her daughter away from Cyrus. You convinced her to help you get everyone out, and you felt intense relief when you were met with a familiar face in the cellar as everyone escaped through the tunnels. 

“Where’s Reid?” Morgan easily asked you, glancing behind your shoulder as if waiting for him to appear. 

“He’s still up at the church.” You told him. “I had to separate off to help get the women and children out-” 

“Go on, we have to get you out!” Morgan urged, trying to gently usher you along. 

“We have to go get Reid!” You argued, trying to turn around. 

“Go, go on, I’ll go get Reid!” He told you. 

You were about to argue back, but you were cut off by a scuffle behind you. 

Jessica was yelling about Cyrus - how her mother had betrayed her, tricked her. 

Morgan pushed Kathy toward you and ran off screaming for Jessica. You took Kathy’s arm, gently convincing her that everything was going to be okay as you guided her the rest of the way out. You had to focus on this, convincing yourself that everything was going to be okay. You had to tell yourself that Derek was going to get Spencer out - that they were both going to be okay. 

When you got outside, you were hyper focused on marching away, taking a path away from the church as directed by the officers in charge. You froze in your tracks when you heard it - an earth shattering boom. The ground beneath your feet shook. You felt a puff of hot air swell to touch your back. 

You let go of Kathy’s arm and whipped around, and you couldn’t even pay attention to where she went. You almost thought you heard her weeping, but your mind couldn’t process it as your eyes were glossed in bright orange flame. 

It was the church. 

“Spencer?” You gasped quietly. “Spencer!” 

You couldn’t help it, but you began to run toward it. Your feet carried you faster than you could think, and before you got more than a few feet across the ground, you felt a sharp grip on your upper arm. 

“L/N!” 

Hotch’s voice, sounding far too distant for the position he held right behind you, viciously gripping onto you as you fought against him, trying to get toward the fire - trying to get to Spencer. 

“Hey! Hey! Stop it!” Hotch tried to order you around, tried to get you to stand down. 

He got a hand around your waist, and you continued to kick like a wild horse, fighting against his grip as hot tears poured down your face. 

“He’s in there!” You sobbed. “Spencer is still in there.” 

“Calm. Down.” Hotch ordered sharply. 

You collapsed back into him sobbing, all of the fight leaving your muscles at once. You couldn’t fake the reality in front of you. 

“You running in there and getting hurt isn’t going to change anything.” Hotch told you quietly, a somehow distant murmur into your ear. 

Through the blur of your tears and the sharp orange glow, you saw the shape of two bodies. You heard coughing as someone emerged from the blast, hobbling down the stairs at the front of the church. You forced your eyes open wider, trying to see who it was, and then: 

“Y/N!” Spencer called out your name gruffly through the smoke he had inhaled, and you easily shucked off Hotch’s grip to race up the stairs to get to him. 

He was leaning on Morgan for support and you were worried that he was hurt. But the moment you were close enough, he tore himself away from Morgan and the two of you met in the middle. In a pattern that was easily developing, you fell into the safety of his arms, holding him tight enough to bruise him - never wanting to let go. 

“You’re so stupid, you’re so stupid! Why would you do that to me?” 

You sobbed out, gripping both sides of his face, staring into his eyes, needing the recognition that he was right there, right in front of you. 

He stared back with glassiness - intense fear, adrenaline, and something small that told you he was thankful for you, and needed you now more than ever. 

Of course, your words were simple anger at the situation, not at Spencer himself. The terror of thinking that he was dead still pumping through your veins, causing you to shake. 

“I know.” He said quietly. “I love you.” 

His voice wrapped around the words so tenderly - it was the most sincere declaration you had ever heard from him. As if to say ‘I know how much that scared you. I know what this ordeal has done to us and I only meant it more because of how scared I am’. 

“I love you too.” The words flew from your lips so naturally it hurt. You took a moment to recover, entirely shocked by your own lips. And then, you only found the need to say it growing more inside of you. “Spencer, I love you.” 

You pulled him toward you with the grip you had on his face, and he easily met you in one of the most earth shattering kisses you had ever experienced. 

It was no longer a show, it was no longer about displaying the fake marriage for someone else’s benefit - if it had ever been about that in the first place. It was about the two of you. It was about feeling that comfort, that safety. It was about the fact that your two souls were drawn together since the day you had met. The fact that you had always felt safe with each other. You had always been the other person’s shelter from the storm. 

And you poured every ounce of those feelings into that kiss. 

You combed your fingers through Spencer’s hair, taking a harsh grip on the back of it, holding him there so he couldn’t pull away from your lips. He wrapped his arms around your waist, fisting the back of your sweater. Both of you entirely refused to come up for oxygen, not even caring who saw the epically passionate, public display of your love for each other. 

Unbeknownst to you, Morgan and Hotch exchanged a look with raised brows as it happened. You and Spencer didn’t care. You were barely perceiving the world around you as the two of you kissed. 

“You know if you’re not careful, people are actually gonna think you two are married.” Morgan said, being his usual sarcastic self. 

Rather than pulling away from Spencer’s lips to sass him back - you simply flipped Derek off over Spencer’s shoulder. 

On the ride home, JJ handed Derek five dollars. He had the over/under that the two of you would get together before the end of the year. JJ said that it wouldn’t happen for another five years, at least. Derek handed the fiver to Emily when she reminded him that the ‘fake marriage’ bit had actually been her idea. 

When Emily and JJ relayed the story to Penelope, she squealed so loudly into the phone that JJ dropped it. 

Hotch pulled you aside later and warned you that the fake rings were just cheap costume jewelry that Garcia had gotten and they would tarnish soon if you kept wearing them. He also recommended that you and Spencer put in the paperwork with HR if you were ‘serious’ about the relationship. You knew that it was him wishing the two of you his best. 

A few days later when you came into work and found the HR request for an update of relationship status sitting on your desk, already signed by Spencer, you couldn’t help but to smile.

...

A/N: This is a oneshot, so there will not be a continuation or a sequel to it. If you are going to comment, please comment about the body of work that I have written, rather than asking me to write 'more'. If you want to see more things that I have written about Spencer, feel free to check out my Criminal Minds Masterlist.

[mcondance]

lovely

“You say things with your mouth, cobwebs and flies come out / I hear a second voice behind your tongue somehow / Luckily, I can read your mind, flies and cobwebs unwind / They will not take you down, They will not cast you out”

Or, you’re fine. And whatever other words hide behind those four letters. Spencer sees what a piece of you wants to hide from him.

notes fluff (mcondance writes fluff??) but still MDNI, reader is neurodivergent this is for my baby girls (audhd spencer reid kissers), inspired by those lyrics from lovely by twenty øne piløts, do not listen while you read. this is what having a dual tøp-spencer reid era does to a writer. gif from pinterest. also guys please i’ve been experimenting with layouts for my works for like… months now if this layout is ugly just ignore it please please. mcondance capitalizes ?!

word count 1.1k+ (closer to 1.2k hello i am proud)

You lie still on your back in the middle of the bed as you watch Spencer close the door and set his cardigan down on the chair by the dresser. He floats through the dim room, momentarily lit up by the interludes of soft moonlight wafting through the windows. He takes his place beside the bed. Your music pauses.

“You okay?” He asks quietly.

“I’m fine.”

You’re lying. Spencer knows you’re lying; it wouldn’t take a genius to deduce that. It’s in your voice, most obviously. But it’s in the other details that only Spencer would notice, too. Not because he’s a genius, but because he’s your Spencer. 

The room is dark. Which wouldn’t be much of a problem, if you didn’t sound so bleak and tired when you spoke. You have your big headphones on, which, again, wouldn’t be so bad if you’d have pulled one back when he walked in, or even just told him that the song’s almost at the good part, and then after it hits you’ll take them off.

The room is bathed in moonlight. The moon, and your Spencer. Two shoulders for you to lean on. Three, actually, with the music you were just listening to. 

But all of the shoulders just aren’t enough to block out the bad feelings you’re having right now.

Overwhelmed. Sad. A little depressed. Whatever. 

“I don't think so, honey,” Spencer speaks softly from where he stands in a split of moonlight, hands in his pockets as he shrugs.

He glows in a silver streak. You sniffle. Fuck.

He allows silence to ensue, obviously giving you time to get your thoughts together. The bed dips to the left as he sits down beside you and props his leg up. A part of you wants to laugh at the common knowledge that if you had the will to look down you’d see an interesting sock and a Converse, but you don’t have the energy to do anything but what you’ve been doing since you let your playlist roll into its fifth run— lay down and alternate between staring out into the blackness of your room and the backs of your eyelids.

“It’s nothing,” you obfuscate. But it’s obviously not nothing.

Again, he lets his silence give you comfort instead of pushing you to talk. You take it gratefully, as it gives you the time you need to collect yourself and try to put words to what’s going on in your head and all under your skin.

You breathe in.

“I'm just… irritated.”

You breathe out.

A bit of weight lifts off of your chest at your short admission, but the elephant in the room continues to perch tall and proud on you, crushing you and leaving very little room for you to exist.

Still, Spencer is silent. The quiet puffs of his breath and the dip in the mattress are enough. Anything else would be too much, and he knows that. So he lets you lead him into the dark with you, he stays still and lets you guide him into the cavernous deep of all that you feel right now.

The fan whirs and cars pass outside the window. The stillness of the night almost laughs at the chaos ensuing in you.

Another breath, deeper this time as you gather the courage to try to express what it is you’re feeling.

“I don't know,” you blurt. “Everything's just too loud and my friends are all annoying and nothing on YouTube is interesting and I feel like I'm gonna explode and crumble all at the same time.” Those tears are bubbling up under the surface of your skin again and threatening to spill out of your eyes. 

And now that you’ve spoken and some of the tension in the air has dissipated, Spencer feels it’s appropriate for him to talk.

“It’s okay, baby. You’ve been working a lot lately without many breaks and now you’ve run out of steam, and that’s okay. It happens. You’re just burnt out.”

Horribly, his sweet words inflame a mean, hot part of you. You scoff, finding the strength to wipe a stray tear as it falls. Spencer knows you don’t mean it, that something up in your brain has just had enough and is now denying you of any feeling but solitary petrification.

Burnout. You hate that word. You wish it didn’t happen to you. You wish that you were normal and being stressed didn’t mean paralysis and staring at the ceiling like it’ll change and morph into an answer or a semblance of comfort. 

In the dark, you strain your eyes at his form. You can just barely make out the wisps of hair flying in all directions away from his face. His posture is terrible. You can tell he’s looking off to the side of you so you won’t feel overwhelmed under his eyes. Perhaps he was made for you.

The air softens, and you do too. The facade of anger slips away as quickly as it reared its ugly head. You take a shuddering breath and let your head fall towards him.

He moves closer and a beam of moonlight illuminates him as he takes you in with warmth etched onto the comfort of his face.

Something up in your brain has just had enough and is now denying you of any feeling but solitary petrification. 

Fortunately, Spencer won’t let that happen. 

How grateful you are for this man who won’t let you get the aloneness that some tired part of you craves. He’ll stick beside you and sit in silence for hours upon hours if it meant you wouldn’t feel alone. He has done that before. He’d do it again in a heartbeat.

With him smiling softly at you even in your cocoon of darkness, that sweet quirk of his lips that is ever-present when he’s looking at you, you feel a little better. Now, he can touch you. Before that thought even registers, he reaches out for your knee and rests his hand there, rubbing his thumb up and down over your skin.

It doesn’t cross the line of overstimulation, and it doesn’t feel like not enough. It’s just enough. Spencer can read you as well as the surplus of books he reads daily. There’s no push to get up, to take your headphones off or turn the light on.

Spencer wants only for you to breathe, and to know that he is here. When he hears your breathing become easy again, and he feels just a bit more of the discord you’re swathed in slip off of you, he knows you know.

His hand on your knee won’t nurse you back to your functioning form. And it’s not what he’s striving to do. 

And as you look through the darkness into his moon-bathed eyes, you know you’ll have him here with you every step of the way, by some divine power that put him in your life. And that’s okay. You won’t be okay for a while, but you have him to lean on. You’ll always have him to lean on. You feel the love he has for you radiating off of him, pushing into your skin as he caresses it slowly.

Getting out of bed sometime later sounds a little easier, now.

[whumptober]

Anatomy of a Whumptober Prompt

We get a lot of questions about prompts, so I thought this might be a helpful post for how to break down a Whumptober prompt and get ideas.

Each day of Whumptober has 4 prompts: a theme trope, then three ideas. You can use any one, two, three, or all four in your work. Each day’s prompts loosely relate to each other but could also be taken individually. They can be interpreted as literally or figuratively as you want.

Let’s look at an example. I’m a writer, so I’m going to talk in terms of storywriting, but just remember that this challenge is open to all sorts of creative works, including art, gifsets, headcannons, crafts, or whatever else you can think of.

ICARUS

cage | “You'll say you'd never let me fall from hopes so high” | crash landing

(Fiona Apple, Never is a Promise)

So the theme is Icarus, with additional prompts of a place, a song lyric, and a situation. Taken together, you could write a story of Icarus, who was caged with his father Daedelus, flew too close to the sun on the hope of freedom, and crashed fatally to earth. But you could also look at each prompt in isolation for ideas.

Icarus:

themes of hubris

themes of freedom from captivity

winged characters

a child trying to prove themselves to a parent figure and failing

Cage:

being literally caged

feeling figuratively caged

breaking free of something (literal or figurative)

themes of imprisonment and freedom or false freedom

“You'll say you'd never let me fall from hopes so high”:

regret

promises made or broken

an accident and its aftermath

bitterness after betrayal

guilt after betrayal or accident

Crash landing:

literally falling from a height

being high (drugs, mania, medications, love, sugar) and crashing

plane/helicopter/airship/dragon/spaceship/winged creature crash

an angel falling to earth or hell

comet or meteor impact

This isn’t an exhaustive list, but just some brainstorming ideas I could come up with quickly. In a few of my fandoms, I could write about Bucky’s fall from the train and Steve’s guilt (MCU), Basch fon Ronsenburg’s fall from grace or languishing in a cage for treason (FFXII), Sephiroth summoning Meteor (FFVII), Chell being dragged back into Aperture after thinking she’s free (Portal), a dragonrider battle (ASOIAF/HoD), crashing into the Chionthar after victory (BG3), Geralt coming down after battle when the potions wear off (The Witcher). Any of these scenarios could be inspired by one or more of the four prompts for that day – my problem is always deciding which one I want to use!

“But Yenn,” you say, “what if I can’t think of anything for any parts of the prompt, or I don’t like the prompts, or they’re too much for me in some way?” No problem! We also have a list of 15 alternatives that can be substituted for any day (once per prompt). If you’re still stuck, you can always come on Discord and ask for brainstorming help. Everyone is super nice there, especially for a community of people that live to put blorbos in discomfort.

I hope this post helps give people ideas. We’re working hard to get everything together and should release the prompts in a couple of weeks! In the meantime, our 2024 playlist will be loading soon...

[fiamat12]

The ring, the ring, the ring, the ring…

I think she’s using that ring to show her relationship status: Taken. And I have a hard time believing that she is going to have a ring commissioned to symbolize S3 of Bton and then use it to broadcast her relationship with anyone but L. What kind of relationship are they in? Don’t know, but the kind that has her finger screaming “Not Available to Anyone Else!”

Can you imagine her getting in a relationship with someone else and then being like, “Hold on honey, I’m just going to flip around this ring that I literally had made to symbolize playing out Pen and Colin’s epic love story to let everyone know I’m taken now!!! (BTW babe did I tell you they’re soulmates and will die on the same day and our on screen wedding literally felt like the real thing, I won’t be as protective of MY OWN WEDDING DRESS as I was with Pen’s, and I made L wait to see me until the wedding filming day because I knew he’d be gagged. Also the thing about S3 I will miss most is LUKE LUKE LUKE, I cried my eyes out after our last sex scene where I slipped him the tongue, he’s the absolute best.)”

ALSO her face is bare, she’s wearing nothing but her bathrobe but that damn ring is still on her finger. Either it’s the last thing she takes off at night, the first thing she puts on in the morning, or it stays on all the time. That’s personal. That’s symbolic of something.

Is it a signal to him? A promise to herself? Couple it with the song lyrics and comments about waiting for someone, not compromising yourself, waiting for the right person (he couldn’t agree more, nothing to add), and it makes me think she’s waiting for him to disentangle, and the ring means she’s waiting until he does, and they have an understanding about it. I don’t know what the hell he is doing with A but maybe she does and there’s a reason for it.

I’m open to hearing alternative theories about what it might mean, but nothing else puts all of the pieces together in a way that makes sense.

Someone like N does not wear/have made custom symbolic jewelry like that and wear it in the manner that one would wear a wedding/engagement ring, never taking it off, showing it off sponsored posts, at events, in every pic, and not have it mean something. May I remind you that SHE designed Pen’s wedding ring to symbolize the merging of their families. She cares about symbolism and tokens. IT MEANS SOMETHING.

Valid points to consider ☝️

[kayewrite]

Swear it again

(bsn ending #6)

Bang chan x reader !! Christopher Bang x reader !! word count: 2.8k

bsn alternative ending #4 wherein; chan.. is what your heart wants

an: any team chan here? coz babe! i wasnt in any team but i can say that.. i love chan here!! (and seungmin */sobs)

part 1 and part 2 first

Bang Chan was the most mature person in your circle.

He was the one who would scold everyone for their wrongdoings, always making sure they understood the consequences of their actions..

He gave advice like a big brother, offering guidance that was both thoughtful and practical, always with your best interests at heart..

He provided help whenever he could, going out of his way to make sure no one felt left behind, even when it meant sacrificing his own time or energy..

And he protected your friendship in the best way he could, often stepping in to mediate conflicts, always striving to keep the group united and strong.

He wrote songs, pouring his heart and soul into every lyric and melody, creating music that resonated with everyone who listened..

He wanted to become a singer ever since he was a kid, because he loved making people happy..

He sang well..

He produced beats..

He got his driver's license at an early age..

He was gentle, his kindness evident in the way he treated everyone around him, always with a smile and a reassuring word..

He was a good cook..

He liked sunny days more than rainy ones..

His hobby was playing sports..

He thought his charming point was his dimples when he smiled, a feature that made everyone around him smile too, his happiness infectious..

He could rotate his hand 360 degrees, a quirky talent that never failed to amuse you, just another thing that made him unique..

He was handsome..

And cute at the same time.

—Wait. Were we still talking about how mature he is?

Well, no! You were talking about how much you knew him.

And why did you know him that much? Because, yes indeed, you liked him.

But—

"I swear to God! I would never fall in love with someone like Chan!" It was just a teasing moment as you lifted your right hand, as if pledging an oath.

You were playing truth or dare with your friends one time. And then you picked truth, and they teased you, asking if you liked Chan—where you immediately denied it by swearing.

And you thought you would never.

But then there was him, always taking care of you, asking How are you after your major exams.

Asking what your cravings were for the day so he could buy them for you.

Asking what you were eating in your apartment. If are you just eating cup noodles again.

Patting your back and giving you a hug when you cried after failing your physics subject, holding you close as you let the tears fall.

The first one to greet you on your birthday, warm and cheerful as he wished you all the happiness in the world.

You felt like… you didn’t understand.

Yes, others cared about you, but Chan… there was something about him you couldn’t quite pinpoint.

And when the way he slowly placed a pair of headphones on you and then played a song he had written and composed by himself, his eyes watching your reaction…

You finally admitted it to yourself—yes… you liked him.

"I swear to God…" Now, you couldn’t continue your words as the others looked at you, waiting for your answer.

"I'm tired of playing. Let's sleep." Then you stood up, leaving them with confused faces.

Well, don’t overthink it. They were just wondering if you really knew how to play truth or dare.

When he wrote that blue sticky note song… you thought he was the one who sneakily slipped it into your binder.

"We helped in making that song," he said as you faced him, "but Changbin wrote the title and most of the lyrics."

That answered your question—it was Changbin who really did put it there.

Not gonna lie, you really hoped it was him. But knowing that another friend did it, you felt anxious. If you were to tell everyone you liked this man standing in front of you… what would their reaction be?

After that night at the party, when you got home and cried, you knew now that Bang Chan liked you. But you didn’t know what to do.

It was because of your stupid swear to yourself!

Why did you pledge something when you couldn’t even handle the consequences?

You continued your life after that, but things felt different. You started putting up barriers between yourself and your friends, especially Seungmin and Changbin, who you always saw in class.

Thankfully, they seemed to understand, giving you the space you thought you needed.

But deep down, you hoped that everything would go back to normal. In just a few days, you already missed the closeness, the easy laughter, the sense of belonging that came with your friendship. And so, you made a promise to yourself that you would fix this—no matter how difficult it might be.

You were about to take a different path home when you spotted Seungmin walking in your direction. He caught your eye, and for a moment, you considered slipping away before he could reach you. But before you could decide, he stopped you.

"Wait. Let's talk."

Even though you weren't ready to face him, there was a pull, a longing to reconnect. You missed Seungmin—your best friend, the one who always understood you without needing many words.

As you both sat down, sipping on your favorite coffee, an awkward silence hung between you, thick with unsaid words.

"I know this is hard for you," Seungmin began, his voice gentle and steady, as if he had rehearsed what to say a hundred times before. "But I hope you won't go through with your plan of distancing yourself from us. We don’t want to lose you."

You bit your lip, feeling the weight of his words sink in. That wasn’t what you wanted either. They were all precious to you. You were just trying to give yourself some space, to sort out your feelings before they got even more complicated. "It’s not that I want to leave…" you mumbled, struggling to find the right words. "I just… I don’t know how to handle all of this right now."

Seungmin nodded, his eyes never leaving yours. "But we’ll give you the time you need," he said softly, taking a small step closer, as if he wanted to bridge the gap that had formed between you. "Just know that we're here for you. We're friends, and we should be with each other, especially when things get tough."

It was as if he could read your mind—he knew exactly what you were thinking, even though you hadn’t said a word. The unspoken understanding between you was comforting, but it also made you feel guilty for even considering pulling away.

"I’m sorry," you finally spoke, your voice trembling with emotion. You weren’t entirely sure why you were apologizing, but you felt it deep in your heart. Maybe it was because you were about to break his heart, to put a crack in the foundation of your friendship. "I… I just…"

You wanted to tell him everything, but the words were stuck, lodged in your throat, as if admitting them out loud would make everything too real to bear.

Seungmin looked at you, his expression softening with concern. "Hey," he said gently, reaching out to place a reassuring hand on your shoulder. "It’s okay. You don’t have to say it all at once."

You swallowed hard, trying to steady your breathing. "I just don’t want to hurt anyone," you whispered, your voice barely audible.

"You like someone, but you're afraid to choose because you don’t want to hurt the others, right?" Seungmin’s words hit the mark, once again proving how well he knew you.

You didn’t nod, but you didn’t deny it either. Instead, you lowered your head, unable to meet his gaze. How did he always know what you were thinking? How did he always manage to say exactly what you needed to hear?

"Don’t be sorry, you silly," Seungmin chuckled, trying to lighten the mood. His laughter was warm, like a blanket on a cold day, wrapping around you and making you feel safe. It was as if he wasn’t hurt at all, like this was just another one of your usual conversations. "Why would you be sorry? It’s not like this is all your fault."

"But it is," you insisted, your voice cracking as you finally met his eyes. "It feels like it is. I never meant for this to happen, but now… now everything’s so messed up."

"Well it was your fault to be pretty.." He mumbled something under his breath, something you couldn’t quite catch—But then before you could ask what, he spoke up again, louder this time, "Don’t be sorry!"

You were thankful for his words, but the anxiety gnawing at you only grew worse. What if Seungmin was just saying this to comfort you while he was hurting inside? What if he was pretending everything was fine just for your sake?

"Who is it, by the way?" he asked casually, as if he were asking about the answer to a quiz question. His tone was light, but there was a hint of curiosity in his eyes,

"It’s--" your heart starting to race,

"It’s Chan, right?" He slapped the table, a triumphant smile on his face as if he’d just solved a puzzle. "I knew it! Ever since we played that game years ago, I had a feeling. You swore you’d never fall for him, and you think I’m a fool to believe that?"

You blinked at him, startled. "How… how did you--"

Seungmin grinned, leaning back in his chair with an air of confidence. "Come on, it’s not that hard to figure out. You’re not as good at hiding your feelings as you think." He paused, his smile softening. "And honestly? I’m glad it’s Chan. He’s a good guy. Just… I didn’t expect it to happen so soon."

Seungmin’s laughter was infectious, and despite the situation, you found yourself smiling. "I mean… I didn’t want this to happen, but--"

"But you—"

"Wait, let me finish talking," you interrupted 'cause he was always cutting you off, laughing at his eagerness Seungmin joined in, the tension between you easing with every shared laugh.

As you continued to talk, the comfort and ease you always felt with Seungmin returned. He had a way of making everything feel right, even when it wasn’t.

"What I want to say is… go for it! Go get that Chan!" He grinned, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "But if he ever hurts you, I swear to God, he won’t be able to walk again."

You laughed at Seungmin’s playful threat, feeling a warmth in your chest that only a friend like him could bring. In the end, you sent him a grateful smile, and Seungmin returned it, understanding exactly what you meant without needing to say it out loud.

You hesitated for a moment before knocking on Chan's studio door. The silence that followed felt like an eternity. You knocked again, the sound echoing in the quiet hallway. Still, there was no response. With a deep breath, you knocked a third time, your heart pounding in your chest.

"Chan, are you mad at me? Please… let's talk." Your voice wavered as you spoke to the door in front of you, desperation seeping into your words.

But there was still no answer. The lump in your throat grew as you fought back the tears that threatened to spill over. Just as you were about to give up, a voice behind you made you freeze.

"Why are you here?" Chan's voice was laced with surprise, as if he couldn’t believe you were standing there. He must have come back from somewhere, holding a cup of coffee in his hand. "I mean… I’m glad you’re here!" He quickly added, realizing how he might have sounded. "I’m sorry, I just went to get some coffee. Come on, let’s go inside."

You blinked away the tears that had gathered in your eyes and followed him as he unlocked the door and pushed it open for you. The familiar warmth of his studio washed over you as you stepped inside, the soft hum of equipment and the faint scent of coffee mingling in the air.

You took a seat in the extra chair beside his workstation, and Chan set his coffee down on the table. "Wait here for a second," he said, heading toward the small kitchenette. "I’ll get another cup so we can share this."

You nodded silently, watching him as he moved around. When he returned, he poured more than half of his coffee into your cup, leaving himself with only a small portion.

"Here," he said, handing the cup to you before sitting down beside you. "How are you?" he asked, his eyes searching your face for any sign of how you were really feeling.

You tried to maintain eye contact, but the weight of everything that had happened over the past week made it impossible. You looked down, your hands trembling slightly as you held the cup. "I’m… fine," you mumbled, knowing full well that Chan could see through the lie.

He didn’t push you, though. He knew you well enough to understand that you weren’t ready to talk about what was really going on. "I really wanted to come to your apartment," Chan said softly, his voice filled with concern. "But then I realized you might need some time alone."

His understanding, much like Seungmin’s, was both comforting and heartbreaking. You appreciated how well he knew you, but it also made you feel even guiltier for pulling away from him.

Chan hesitated for a moment before speaking again. "Uhm, since you’re here… Can you listen to the song I’m working on?" His voice was tentative, almost as if he was afraid you’d say no.

A small smile tugged at your lips, and you nodded. "Yes, I’d love to."

Chan’s face lit up at your response, and he quickly grabbed a pair of headphones. Even though you were perfectly capable of putting them on yourself, he carefully placed them over your ears, making sure they were adjusted just right. His touch was gentle, almost reverent, and it made your heart ache in ways you couldn’t describe.

He pressed play, and the music flowed into your ears. The first few notes were soft, an acoustic intro that was both unexpected and captivating. Then the piano joined in, followed by the steady beat of drums. It was unlike anything you had heard from Chan before—new, refreshing, and undeniably beautiful.

"Are you the one singing?" you asked, your voice full of awe as the song continued to play.

"Yeah," Chan replied, his voice barely audible over the music. He smiled at your reaction, a mix of pride and nervousness in his eyes.

You focused on the lyrics, trying to piece together the story they told. The words were tender, vulnerable, and they struck a chord deep within you. As the song came to an end, you slowly removed the headphones, letting the silence settle around you.

"What’s the title?" you asked, as you always did after listening to one of Chan’s songs.

Chan chuckled, shaking his head. "I’ll tell you later," he said with a playful grin.

"It was amazing, Chan," you said sincerely, your voice thick with emotion. You could tell he felt the depth of your words, his smile softening into something more genuine.

For a moment, you simply looked at him, taking in every detail of his expression. The way his eyes crinkled at the corners when he smiled, the warmth in his gaze, the slight flush on his cheeks—it all made your heart race. Before you knew what you were doing, you leaned in, closing the distance between you, and kissed him.

Chan froze for a split second, caught off guard, but then he responded, his lips moving against yours in a way that felt both hesitant and eager. The taste of coffee lingered between you, warm and comforting, but it was the intensity of the emotions that overwhelmed you. Your tears, which you had been holding back for so long, finally spilled over.

You realized what the lyrics were really about. They were about you. Every word, every note—he had written them for you.

I swear I would never fall in love with you that was what I always told myself too, but every time I saw you, I couldn’t help but fall harder

Swear that you will like me too, just like how I liked you. I hoped you know it… Please swear again

and that was the title.

---

an: help

[viccharine]

dance dance! we’re falling apart to halftime!

(reblogs greatly appreciated!!!!)

EDIT: this is now available as a print in my ko-fi shop! link here [x]

alternate versions and commentary under the cut!

about the piece: this is my first time ever attempting to draw a back—and LET ME TELL YOU. I STRUGGLED. took me a solid 2 hours to figure it out—even then I had to go physically put down the iPad and go on a walk three separate times because I was so frustrated. the things I do to make fob fanart. if you’re confused by the pose, I originally meant for the figure to be laying down, but now it’s more intended to be as though the figure is leaning on something (most likely the headboard of a bed????)—although, the pose was kind of an afterthought as I really just needed to make a lot of space to add in the text (which, as always, is hand lettered except for the “dance dance, fall out boy”)

about the song: dance dance is one of my favorite fall out boy songs, if not my favorite fob song, but I think it’s important to acknowledge the slightly misogynistic undertones of the song. im not saying that the song is misogynistic, nor that fall out boy is misogynistic, but rather that the song was released in 2005 and as a society, we’ve grown in terms of how we speak about women in pop culture. a lot of media, specifically songs from the 2000s (ESPECIALLY emo songs, im looking at you “I write sins”) had this kind of borderline misogynistic tone that is not in any way okay (Im not trying to justify it!!) but was unfortunately normalized.

as an afab person, I love this song, I love this LINE specifically (“why don’t you show me the little bit of spine you’ve been saving for his mattress, love?” goes SO HARD for me), and I think my immense enjoyment of the song doesn’t prevent me from talking about how it fits into misogynistic culture (esp of the 2000s) and it does not mean i accept it

(but also, I don’t really listen to the lyrics of the song anyway—everyone say thank you to Patrick Stump’s enunciation)

anyway that’s it k byeeeeeee (and go stream fall out boy!)

p.s. I forgot to add my watermark so for the sake of me not wanting to go back and edit it in pls don’t repost with credit please and thank yew ?????

[9w1ft]

i declare

thinking about the tortured poets department the song, and the charlie puth line, and how maybe like, the act of declaring he should be a bigger artist helps place the song into the greater timeline.

because it’s a sort of weird thing to say in 2024 of an artist that’s no longer up and coming.

charlie puth got his start in youtube in the late 2000’s and released his debut single in february 2015. and leading up to that he had several EP’s and promotional singles. it made me curious, at what point might the people en masse start to pay him attention? i checked google trends and as you can see here he gets a huge jump between the 2014 and 2015 data.

(he then gets a further jump toward 2016 when he did a promo single featuring megan trainor, and then doing “see you again” with wiz khalifa. (coincidentally this song becomes one of the guest duets featured in the 1989 tour movie))

and i was looking around at articles from this time period, when i ran into this tasty morsel:

so i clicked on through

take a little ride with me

so to summarize, charlie puth had his breakout star peak over the course of roughly 2014-2016, during which he was up for an award at the 2015 MTV VMAs. he doesn’t win, and in fact, he loses out to taylor herself! later on in the article it talks about him going to an after party and hanging out with taylor selena and others. so it had me thinking, i could almost imagine taylor talking with her friends that year or that night, or even declaring to charlie himself in the wake of his loss and her win, in a giddy manner, at the party they are reported as having talked at, that he deserves more success than he gets. in this way i came to the conclusion that the timeframe of 2015-ish (rather than 2023) really fits the spirit of the lyric “we declared charlie puth should be a bigger artist”

and

yes.

yes fam.

the 2015 vmas was that vma’s.

that vmas.

let me pull quote an excerpt from the billboard article as i included above, just to emphasize:

4:40 PM: Charlie has the good fortune to walk the carpet in the wake of Taylor Swift’s gaggle of supermodel friends, including “Bad Blood” star Karlie Kloss, leading photographers to alternately yell “Charlie! Karlie! Charlie! Karlie!” as if it were a hectic version of Name Game. While on the carpet, Puth chats with multiple news outlets, and later he says of the dealing with the paparazzi, “It’s amazing that we view people in unnatural states and just love it. I don’t really understand it — it just makes me very uncomfortable. But, whatever. I’m so appreciative to be here.”

such a fun convergence of events, don’t ya think?

and just a few extra points i thought i’d add:

first, i don’t know how many of you remember how taylor was behaving that evening, but don’t you think she was giving major golden retriever energy??

both in how she was chasing after karlie that night,

and also… call me crazy but, her hairstyle??

(also she’s in a houndstooth print, har har)

and i can kind of envision this taylor, who brought the whole bad blood music video crew as her entourage, having more than several bars of chocolate at hand for everyone that night, but ending up eating them all herself 😆

and another thing that helps tie the song to this time period (maybe some of you have guessed?) the line “who else decodes you?” is extra apt because… *da da-da daaaaa*

🤗 karlie had just embarked on her coding journey!

on a more solemn note? i don’t think it requires too much of a stretch of the imagination to see “but you awaken with dread” “i chose this cyclone with you” among other lines pointing to the new layer of stress taylor probably was harboring around being with karlie in public. because this is all taking place in the year directly following kissgate 🥺

so there you have it folks! this is why the tortured poets department is a kaylor song to me 😌

[babydollmarauders]

TIMELESS — JACK HUGHES

jack hughes x fem!reader

surprise song! part (and final part) of the Speak Now Fic List

summary: in which y/n writes she and Jack’s first dance song and it’s Jack’s first time hearing it

notes: Taylor doesn’t exist in this alternative universe, and you’ll understand why! (2.5k words)

“i want you to write our first dance song.”

when Jack had told me that just five months ago, i was at a loss for words.

i’m no pop star, by any means, and i’ve never desired to be one. i dabble in song writing as a way to release my anxiety and that’s it.

i’ve bounced lyrics off of Jack for as long as i can remember. we went from facetimes in high school, after practice, singing him verses i was unsure of, to sitting beside him in bed, my guitar in my hands as i tried to work out lyrics and having him put his two cents in.

he knew i never planned for anyone else to hear them. they were for he and i’s ears only. yet he still complimented my voice, my lyricism, the instrumentals i played out in the dead of night.

he told me i wrote like a poet. he called me the greatest storyteller who’s ever lived.

but the greatest compliment, and also the greatest challenge, he’s ever given me, was to write the song to which we’ll have our first dance as husband and wife. to write our love into the purest form of art.

it took me four months to write what our love felt like, into words. constant lyric changes, and multiple instances of scrapping a song altogether and starting anew. it took another month for me to get it all made in a rented studio. recorded and produced into the song it is now.

but as i took so long to perfect it to my liking, i took the greatest risk of my songwriting journey. i never once bounced lyrics off of Jack. i wrote only when he was on roadies, hiding my journal inside of an old blanket that sits on the high shelf in our closet when he was home.

i wanted this song to be a complete surprise once it was finished. i wanted him to only hear it once it was in its perfected form. and that would be today.

my leg bounces on the couch, my fingers playing with the fringed side of the decorative pillow that lies within my lap, as i wait for Jack to get home from practice.

my nerves are quickly rising, my anxiety getting the best of me. if he dislikes this song, then i only have one month to create an entirely new one.

i feel sick. like i could both pass out and lose my breakfast at any moment.

my head perks up as i hear the apartment door open, the un-hushed whispers of Jack and Luke reaching my ears, and when they step into the living room, the signature smile on Jack’s face brightens.

“hi, baby.” he grins, bounding forward to press a kiss to my forehead. “i didn’t think you would be awake already.”

“i got it.” i rush out, the monotonous small talk of the moment not appealing to me in the slightest.

“got what, doll?” Jack’s brows thread together in confusion, and i can hear Luke’s pots and pans clattering in the kitchen.

“the final demo of our first dance song.” my teeth sink into my bottom lip, watching realization settle over Jack’s face. “the producer sent it to me this morning.”

“that’s great, baby! why do you look like your gonna throw up?” he laughs, taking a seat beside me on the sofa.

“because i’m scared you’re gonna hate it.” i confess. “i spent so long on this one song, making it into something i’m proud of, but it all means nothing if you don’t think it’s good enough.”

“hey.” he coos softly, a gentle hand raising to cup my cheek. “i love everything you write. and i know that this song is gonna be no exception.”

his forehead rests against mine, my eyes fluttering shut as i take a deep breath.

“are you ready to hear it?” my words come out in a whisper and i can feel him nod against me.

“i’ve been ready since the day i asked you to write it.” i pull back to smile at my fiancé, heaving out a deep sigh.

“hey Luke?” he calls out, getting a distracted ‘yeah?’ in return. “you mind giving us a few minutes alone?”

“uhh-” Luke peeks through kitchen entryway. “‘in my room’ alone? or ‘leave the apartment’ alone?”

“in your room is fine.” i assure him gently and he nods.

i watch as he turns the stove off before walking to his room. as soon as his door shuts, Jack is turning to me with an excited smile.

“okay, let’s listen!” my hand shakes as i lean forward, clicking on my laptop that rests on the coffee table, pressing play on the file.

the first notes echo throughout the living room, the gentle guitar strums causing Jack’s eyes to crinkle as he smiles softly, bobbing his head, his eyes glued to the laptop screen.

“Down the block, there's an antique shop

And something in my head said, ‘Stop,’ so i walked in

On the counter was a cardboard box

And the sign said, ‘Photos: twenty-five cents each’

Black and white, saw a '30s bride

And two lovers laughin' on the porch of their first house

The kinda love that you only find once in a lifetime

The kind you don't put down”

he looks over at me, confusion written across his face, but his eyes still shining with joy.

“And that's when i called you and it's so hard to explain

But in those photos, i saw us instead

And, somehow, i know that you and i would've found each other

In another life, you still would've turned my head even if we'd met”

his eyes grow softer, my cheeks heating up.

sure, i’ve written love songs about Jack in the past, but this one was special. this one speaks a truer and deeper meaning than any of my past songs.

“On a crowded street in 1944

And you were headed off to fight in the war

You still would've been mine

We would have been timeless

I would've read your love letters every single night

And prayed to God you'd be comin' home all right”

his smile is gentler now, his eyes glistening with unshed tears as he snakes his hand over to hold mine, and i know he’s thinking about the same thing as me.

remembering the time early on in his NHL career, when i confessed to him that every time he went on a roadie, i had so much worry that he would get hurt and i wouldn’t be there for him. when i admitted that, regardless of me not being a highly religious individual, i prayed before every game that he would come out okay. that he would come home in the same condition as he left.

“And you would've been fine

We would have been timeless

'Cause i believe that we were supposed to find this

So, even in a different life, you still would've been mine

We would've been timeless”

salty tears roll down my cheeks at the sight of his, gathering on my chin and dripping down onto our conjoined hands, gripped tightly together in my lap.

“I had to smile when it caught my eye

There was one of a teenage couple in the driveway

Holdin' hands on the way to a dance

And the date on the back said 1958

Which brought me back to the first time I saw you

Time stood still like somethin' in this old shop”

he pulls me closer, until i’m practically sitting on his lap, pressing his lips to my cheek, and i wonder if he’s thinking back on when we first met too. but what he doesn’t know is that i saw him first. i’d never told him that bit.

how i silently pined after him for months until we really met. it’s written in my vows though.

junior year, when i first saw him in the school hallway and it felt like everything around me had frozen.

he had been standing at his locker, laughing about something that Trevor had said. i heard the laugh first, and my entire body felt warm. but then i turned and caught sight of him, and it felt like time had stopped. my heartbeat had sped up, everything around me drowning out until all i could focus on was him.

“I thought about it as i started lookin' 'round

At these precious things that time forgot

That's when i came upon a book covered in cobwebs

Story of a romance torn apart by fate

Hundreds of years ago, they fell in love, like we did

And i'd die for you in the same way, if i first saw your face”

our foreheads press against each other, my thumb wiping away his tears.

“In the 1500s off in a foreign land

And i was forced to marry another man

You still would've been mine

We would have been timeless

I would've read your love letters every single night

And run away and left it all behind

You still would've been mine

We would've been timeless

'Cause i believe that we were supposed to find this

So, even in a different life, you still would've been mine

We would've been timeless”

his lips slot against mine, perfectly placed in harmonious synchrony, our fallen tears mingling together upon the meeting.

“Time breaks down your mind and body

Don't you let it touch your soul

It was like an age-old classic

The first time that you saw me

The story started when you said, ‘Hello’

In a crowded room a few short years ago

And sometimes there's no proof, you just know

You're always gonna be mine

We're gonna be-

I'm gonna love you when our hair is turnin' gray

We'll have a cardboard box of photos of the life we've made

And you'll say, ‘Oh my, we really were timeless’”

my thoughts drift back to the first time we really met.

it was on new year’s eve in our junior year. Cole was having a joint new years and birthday party.

*** DECEMBER 31ST, 2019 ***

Cole’s house is crowded. insanely so.

i didn’t originally plan to come. but Cole’s become a good friend of mine through our shared history class, and he’s been blowing up my phone all day, begging me all day to attend.

so now here i stand.

alone in the crowded living room of Cole Caufield’s billet residence, a red solo cup in my hand as i people watch.

i’m unsure of what to do. Cole currently sits on the couch with a few of his hockey friends from the US National Development Program, and i feel awkward going over there. but i don’t actually know anyone else here.

i tend to keep to myself more often than not, which results in the rest of my friends being fellow introverts that would never be at a party like this.

“y/n!” my eyes grow wide, my head snapping to find where the call of my name had originated from, and i’m slightly surprised to find Cole grinning over at me, his hand waving in the air and motioning me over.

my eyes flicker beside him to see Jack sat next to Alex, both paying no attention to anything going on around them.

with none of Jack’s attention on me, i figure it’s safe to go over and wish Cole a happy early birthday.

i push my shoulders back, standing up straighter, attempting to push my way through a horde of fellow high schoolers.

but my walk is a lot less confident once i witness Jack’s gaze drifts towards me. i stumble a little, crinkling my nose as a guy i share pre-calculus with bumps me in the back.

“hi Cole.” i force a smile on my surely red face, fidgeting under the gaze of all the boys, but especially anxious now that Jack’s attention is on me.

“hey! you came!” Cole rises from his seat, pulling me into a hug, recklessly causing my drink to slosh in its cup.

“well you were texting me all day. you wouldn’t take no for an answer.” i chuckle as he plops back down to the couch with a sigh.

“i couldn’t throw my birthday party and not have my favorite girl show up!” he shouts, my face heating up. “oh! guys, this is y/n! she’s my friend from history!”

the guys all mumble out distracted ‘hey’s, no longer paying any attention to me, more interested in their new conversations or, in Trevor’s case, trying to charm a girl.

except for Jack. his baby blues are still locked on me, the corners of his mouth pulled up in a small smile.

“hello.” it’s only one word, but my heart races in my chest. i’ve been pining after this exact boy from afar for months, and now he knows who i am. “i’m Jack.”

“hi Jack.” i shake his hand, his touch sending shivers down my body.

*** PRESENT ***

Jack’s hand rubs my thigh, pulling me out of my thoughts.

“We're gonna be timeless, timeless

You still would've been mine

We would've been

Even if we'd met on a crowded street in 1944

You still would've been mine

We would've been

Down the block, there's an antique shop

And somethin' in my head said, ‘Stop,’ so i walked in”

*** ONE MONTH LATER ***

my arms wrap around my now-husband’s neck, my hands toying with the hair at the nape of his neck.

our family and friends watch on from their seats, Ellen’s eyes catching mine, tears already threatening to pour over.

the first guitar chords stream out from the speakers as Jacks hand wrap around my waist, and we begin swaying around the dance floor.

Jack’s eyes gaze into mine, smiling as he whispers the lyrics back to me, relieving some of my anxiety from our guests hearing my song.

i grin back at him, craning my neck to press a kiss against his lips as the song nears its end.

i purposefully avoid looking anywhere near the crowd, laying my head on his chest as the song ends, the final chords strumming.

his heartbeat echoes in my ears, quickening as he presses a kiss against the top of my head.

his words are mumbled into my hair, his lips pressed to my scalp- “our love is timeless.”

[belovedmusings]

It’s just nerves.

Choso Kamo x You x Suguru Geto

Part one of the ‘Two + One’ story. Click for story masterlist.

Explicit Smut 18+ 🚫Minors DNI🚫

Guitarist! Choso Kamo is your boyfriend, and you’ve been together for a year. His previous band broke up and he’s been looking to join a new one ever since, so when he has an audition with a local up and coming one, you accompany him to give him support. That’s where you meet the band’s Bassist, Suguru Geto. The mutual attraction is immediate—but you love your boyfriend, and you resolve to keep your desires for Suguru suppressed, even as Choso is accepted into the band. The question is, can Suguru stay away from you?

Relevant tags: love triangle, sexual tension, slow burn, thoughts of infidelity, guilt, car sex, semi-public sex, accidental voyeurism, unprotected sex, creampie, PWP/Porn With Plot, shy and nervous Choso, Choso is a sweetheart as always, Suguru is a quiet yet confident flirt, Suguru has piercings and tattoos, you are addressed without the usage of “y/n”, AFAB reader with minimal usage of gendered language, reader has no defining characteristics for realism & inclusivity

Recommended songs to listen to while reading: You Right (Doja Cat, The Weeknd), nasty (Ariana Grande), West Coast (Lana Del Rey)

A/N: okay, hear me out. these two are an alt boy duo that i would not mind being tag-teamed by so…here tf we go. This was gonna be a one shot but I live for drama so there’ll be multiple parts.

Read below the cut:

Choso’s leg won’t stop bouncing up and down in the passenger seat as you drive towards the location of his audition.

He’s been looking for his place in a new band ever since his previous one broke up a few months ago, and he’d seen that the city’s most popular up-and-coming band Curse Manipulation posted an ad in need of a guitarist on their Instagram. The two of you like some of their music though you aren’t overly familiar with the band, so he figured it would be a no-brainer to audition.

You know he’s going to be accepted. Choso is an amazing guitarist, and he writes beautiful lyrics, too. Not to mention the haunting voice he can sing with.

You have complete faith in your boyfriend, and he is very aware of your support, and yet he’s still an endearing ball of nerves beside you.

“Hey,” you say softly, placing a hand on his thigh as you reach a red stoplight, easing onto the brake. You give him a reassuring smile. “You’re gonna do great, babe. I know it.”

He smiles half-convincingly at you, which in him is really just a twitch of the corner of his lips, and you can’t help but reach up and lovingly cup his chin between your thumb and index.

“I’ll be right there with you. So you don’t need to worry.”

He sighs, taking your hand in his and giving it a squeeze as the light turns green, allowing you to continue on your drive.

“Thanks,” his voice is quiet. “I just…really do like their sound. The more I think of it, the more I can see myself playing with them. I just hope they agree.”

“They will,” you say surely. “After it’s over, wanna get some McDonald’s? I think there’s a McFlurry with your name on it.”

He chuckles softly and nods. “Sure. That sounds good.”

You flash a grin as you turn onto the next street, entering a residential area with houses nicer than you were expecting. They aren’t mansions, but as you drive through, they’re definitely nicer than yours and Choso’s humble apartment.

“Huh. Didn’t know they made this much money already,” You think aloud, and he shifts beside you, also looking out of the window.

“I read about them a little,” Choso tells you, “Their bassist is a songwriter that’s pretty well-known in alternative music, apparently.”

“Yeah?” You ask, impressed. “So this guy’s a big shot?”

“Kinda,” Choso laughs breathily. “Honestly, I think that’s why I’m nervous.”

“You’re nervous that he’s a professional? A little intimidated?” You ask, and he shrugs.

“Could be,” he admits. “I mean, I know that I’m a good player, so that’s not it entirely. It’s just that if I do get put in the band, things’ll change. They’re gaining popularity, and with the experience he has, the band’s definitely going to get somewhere.”

You hum. “That sounds great. You’ve always wanted to do this as a career—and your stuff deserves to be heard, baby. Maybe you’re more excited than nervous.”

“Could be,” he shrugs, “It’s just a lot.”

“That’s understandable,” you reply, “It’s okay to be nervous. Auditions are scary as hell. But I’m telling you, it’s gonna be fine. We’re gonna get in there, you’re gonna play and blow them away, then we’ll get ourselves some delicious fast food and relax at home.”

He smiles softly at you, and you return it before looking back out of the windshield, seeing your destination approaching. You slow to a stop on the curb at the side of the house, shifting the car into park.

“All right,” You say. “We’re here. Ready?”

He takes a breath and nods. “Yeah. Let’s go.”

—-

A tall, pale man in a white muscle tank-top and baggy sweats greets the two of you at the door with a smile.

“Hi, you must be Choso,” He shakes hands with your boyfriend, “Suguru said you’d be coming. I’m Larue, the band’s drummer.”

“Hey,” greets Choso with his trademark small-smile, “I am. It’s nice to meet you.”

“Who’s this beauty you brought with you?” Larue asks, directing his attention to you.

You shake hands with Larue as you introduce yourself as Choso's significant other.

“Hi,” you greet, giving him your name. “I hope it’s okay I’m here.”

“Oh, of course,” Larue insists. “Come on in. The studio’s down the hall. Just leave your shoes by the door.”

He lets you two into the house, allowing you a chance to look around while you remove your shoes. It looks rather modern and minimal as a structure but the furniture has an eclectic, almost gothic feel to it, green plants livening up the space. It smells pleasant as well—like fresh juniper.

“This way,” Larue gestures to follow him, so you and your boyfriend do, your hand slipping into Choso’s to offer him comfort. He gives your hand a little pulse and you do one in reply as Larue leads you down the hallway, stopping at the door at the end. “Here we are.”

He pushes it open and enters, calling out to the occupants in the room. “Choso’s here for his audition!”

Choso enters first and you follow, entering the cozy studio, lit warmly with lamps, the floor covered in patchwork rugs, a sofa on one end across from a mixing board, and behind that, glass panes that lead to the sound booth, a room that houses the band’s instruments and equipment. Honestly, you’re impressed—you had no clue this band was so serious about their music. It makes your chest swirl with pride. This is the perfect chance for Choso’s talent to finally be recognized.

“Hey there, it’s nice to meet you in person,” a voice pulls you out of your appraisal and back towards the mixing board, where a man sits in a chair, smiling at your boyfriend. As soon as you look at him, his eyes meet yours, and you swear a little shock of electricity runs through you at that exact moment. His eyes flash with something indistinguishable. “I’m Suguru Geto. Bassist and frontman.”

Oh. He’s the singer, too? The bassist? That’s a little unusual, but it’s cool. He’s cool. He has gauges that are framed by long, dark hair, placid and gentle dark eyes, a pretty nose, smooth-looking lips with strong cheekbones and a sharp jawline to match. You can’t ignore the piercings he has on his face, one over his left eyebrow, thin silver hoops adorning his bottom lip in snake bites. Tattoos peak up from his collarbone under his black crew neck, and you trace your gaze down to his hands, fingers free of tattoos but the back of his hands themselves inked up, chunky silver rings making up for the empty room on his dexterous digits instead.

Your mouth goes dry. He’s gorgeous.

His eyes don’t leave you as he says, “who is this angel you brought with you?”

Choso’s hand on yours tightens, bringing you back to yourself. You manage a smile, trying to ignore your racing heart. You stutter as you answer him, cementing yourself as Choso's.

When you tell Suguru your name, and he repeats it, a smile stretches across his lips. “It’s very nice to meet you. Please, make yourself comfortable. Ah, and this is Miguel, our keyboards.”

He gestures to the man leaning against the wall in sunglasses, gold hoops handing from his ears. He smiles and waves. “Hey.”

“Hi,” replies Choso, “Nice to meet you.”

“Likewise.”

“Choso, you wanna set up with the amp over there?” Suguru points to the wall near the couch, and your boyfriend nods.

“Yeah, sure.”

You smile at him again, rubbing his arm gently before moving over to the sofa to sit beside Larue on the opposite end. Miguel takes a seat in the chair beside him as Choso sets about getting his guitar from its case, your eyes gravitating back towards the black hole in the room sitting at the mixing board.

You find his calculating eyes already on you, and instead of looking away at being caught, the corner of his mouth turns up. It makes you feel warm all over.

“So,” Larue speaks, cutting through the silence. “How long have you been playing, Choso?”

“I taught myself when I was thirteen,” He answers, taking the chord plugged into the amp and pushing the other end into his guitar. “I joined my band when I was fifteen, but it split because the others wanted to do their own things.”

“Ah,” Miguel chimes in, “That sucks. Everybody’s gotta be on the same page.”

“Yeah, but I really liked being in a band, so hopefully this goes well,” Choso smiles softly, standing up to sling the guitar strap over his shoulder. He checks to make sure the volume on the amp is down before switching it on, experimentally strumming at a few strings until the volume is at a good level.

“All set?” Asks Suguru, and Choso nods.

“Yeah. I really like ‘Love to the Strong’ so I’ll do that one.”

That was one of your favorites of Curse Manipulator. You and Choso listen to it a lot, and you’ve heard him play it before. He was able to figure it out just by listening, once again putting you in awe of him. You know he has this in the bag.

His black-painted nails form the first chord and he starts strumming, effortlessly switching to the next one and the next, starting to sing along like it’s second nature. You watch him with shimmering eyes. Whenever he plays, you can’t help but see him for the star he truly is. Everything about him is just so unique, so special. What had drawn you to him was his appearance, how unapologetically he expresses himself in what he wears, the spiky style he wears his hair up in, the tattoo across the bridge of his nose, the heavy eyeliner around his eyes…you even think about the tattoo of your name he’d gotten over his heart for your birthday in beautiful black lettering, one of many presents to you that day, and your heart flutters.

Wanting to read the room to see how the others are reacting, you look at Miguel first. He’s nodding his head along, brow furrowed with a smile on his lips. Good. He’s enjoying it. You look at Larue next, who is tapping along to the beat with his hand on his thigh quietly, dividing it even further with his foot.

Last, your eyes move to Suguru, who is moving in time with Choso’s playing, nodding with his chin in his hand. He seems to feel your eyes on his, because he meets your gaze in the next moment. That smirk finds its way on his face again, playful, and you feel your heart hammer hard against your rib cage involuntarily. Without looking away from you, he lets his index finger rest between his lips, tongue pushing against it just so you see the black ball of jewelry at the center of it.

Fuck. A tongue piercing.

A deluge of very lewd, very intrusive thoughts slam into you without your permission. What would his snake bites and tongue piercing feel like if you kissed him? Or if he tried sucking a hickey into your neck? How would his mouth feel around one of your nipples? Or, shit, how would it feel eating you out? Does he know how to use that little bead to his advantage? Would he use it to make you fall apart?

The song finishes and Larue’s enthusiastic cheers yank you from your wanton musings, dragging your eyes from Suguru’s poetic face back to your boyfriend.

Choso smiles at you, eyes searching for approval, for assurance that he did well, and you nod without thinking, a smile spreading over your face as you push the thoughts of Suguru down. You can compartmentalize them later—right now, you need to be a supportive partner. Relief washes over his face.

“That was great,” Suguru says, all business again, “I didn’t know you could sing. Would you be interested in doing toplines and backing vocals also?"

Choso nods. “Yeah, that sounds great. I uh, I write too. If you ever wanted to collaborate.”

“He’s really good,” you add, hoping the blush you feel when Suguru’s gaze finds yours again isn’t noticeable. He smiles at you and it makes you so warm, so nervous.

“That’s great,” He says, glancing back at your boyfriend. “Choso, I know it was a short audition, but I think we can all agree that you’re exactly what we’re looking for.”

You see Choso’s face light up, nuanced to most but so obvious to you, and you grin brightly. You knew it.

“Really?”

“Yep,” Miguel voices his agreement. “Welcome to the band.”

“Welcome!” is Larue’s input.

Suguru flits his eyes to you again. “Just what I’ve been looking for.”

Choso doesn’t see where he’s looking though, because he’s smiling at you, but you do see it, and you feel all sorts of emotions.

Suguru wants you. He’s made it obvious enough already, and that fact plays with your sanity levels a disturbing amount. You have Choso. You love Choso. You see yourself staying with him forever, because he makes you happy, and he makes you feel safe and taken care of. You trust him with your life and he’s never done anything to even waver that trust. You have never looked at another man like this the entire time you’ve been with Choso, either.

So why now all of a sudden is a simple glance from Suguru threatening to put you on your knees? What is going on with you?

“Thank you guys,” Choso speaks, oblivious to the turmoil inside of your head, “I’ll do my best.”

Suguru stands up and pats his shoulder. Oh fuck. He’s tall, shoulders wide—he’s intimidating. He looks like he could toss you around like a pillow. Choso’s build is nothing to sneeze at, but Suguru is just…huge. You silently beg for any god listening to take pity on you and force you to calm down.

“Come on, let’s all relax in the living room with some tea and get to know everyone better,” Suguru suggests, looking at you, “How does that sound?”

You have half a mind to run out of the house right now to prevent yourself from doing something stupid like jumping Suguru’s bones on the spot. Instead, you force a smile on your face.

“Sounds good.”

It’s an hour of soft torture on Suguru’s couch. You’re sandwiched between Choso and the arm of the blue velvet sofa, Larue on his other side. Miguel sits in a matching chair off to the right, and in the other one, directly to your left sits Suguru.

It’s obscene the way his legs are spread out, open like he has a third one in the middle and he needs room for it, and that thought keeps repeating in your head, contributing to the worst hurricane that’s ever ravished the shores of your mind.

His arms are no better, elbows perched on either of the chair’s arms, pelvis forward as he slinks lazily. He’d made tea for everyone when you went into the living room and when he handed you your mug, his fingertips brushed yours and it made you feel like a shy teenager with a crush.

You try really hard not to stare at him but your eyes keep gravitating. He’s leading the conversation, and a fair amount of questions have to do with you. You have no choice but to look at him. And fuck, you don’t mind, he’s sentient art. It should be punishable by law how sinfully his pierced lips wrap around the mug to sip at the tea. At one point while you’re talking about what you do for a living, Choso’s watching you as you talk. Since his eyes aren’t on Suguru, it gives the man a free-pass to test your patience. A drop of tea accidentally slides down the side of his mouth and he flicks his tongue out to lick it, stud glinting at you, and you fucking feel yourself start to get wet.

You tear your eyes away from him after stuttering, finishing your sentence and lifting the cup to your lips to give yourself something else to focus on.

Whenever he looks at you, you can just feel it. You feel it like when you stand too close to fire, heat just threatening to burn your skin, and you suddenly have the overwhelming urge to get fucked.

Wow, you think, real nice. You’re disappointed in yourself. You just met this man and he has this much control over your body? He hasn’t even really touched you.

Choso didn’t even have this effect on you. It was a pair assignment in a class you two had together that started it. He was quiet and frankly looked bored most of the time. He never spoke unless he was spoken to, or to ask you something about your assignments. When you were told you had to work with each other for the final, you two grew closer over meetings at cafes while you worked. You remember the first time you made him laugh. It was music to your ears, and it made your heart flutter. That’s when you started having feelings for him.

Everything he did after that was endearing. You started noticing that he would ask you more questions than necessary just to talk with you, you noticed he’d find reasons to prolong your meetings when you worked together, and he’d even pay for the food or drinks you’d order while working. He liked you, and you liked him back, and he was just so pure in his intentions, you fell even harder.

The night before the final was due, you were over at his place to practice. You’d been there a few times, as he’d been at yours too, and after polishing the project, you decided you two needed a break. You saw his guitar sitting against the wall and asked him to play something. He was hesitant, but ultimately couldn’t deny you, so he sat across from you and started strumming and singing a song you’d never heard before.

It was beautiful. The lyrics would put Hozier to shame. You suspected it was an original, too. You were probably biased, but hell, at that moment you knew he was someone you couldn’t let go of.

When he finished, he confirmed that he’d written it himself. You told him whoever he wrote it about was really lucky, and that if it was you, you’d fall in love with him immediately.

That was you opening the door, and he walked through it with earnest eyes and a hopeful smile.

He’s been your boyfriend since, and he’s made you so happy.

Remembering how you met Choso helps a lot to mitigate the damage Suguru is doing to your psyche, and to keep yourself strong, you don’t look at Suguru again. You fix your eyes on the mug, and a little after the tea is finished, you and Choso decide to go home.

Suguru sees you out after Larue takes care of your mugs, Miguel bidding you a farewell before he makes his way back to the studio. You get your shoes back on, hearing Choso express his gratitude again and agree to return tomorrow so that they can start rehearsing for their next gig.

“It was really nice to meet you.”

Suguru’s eyes are suddenly on yours again and it’s as if that flame that had been reduced to a steady, barely noticeable simmer roars back to life on high. He really is so fucking, damningly pretty.

“You too,” you manage with what you hope is a convincingly easy smile. He holds his palm out to shake hands, and your heart jumps in your ribcage. You fear touching him might rouse a beast within you that you previously had no knowledge of.

Out of courtesy and the obligation to uphold social cues, you lay your hand in his. His palm is warm. His fingers feel rough and firm, no doubt hardened due to his years playing bass. His skin looks nice against yours, you think intelligently, and before he lets go, he gives your hand a strong squeeze. Had you been any less of a person you would have buckled with your newly weakened knees. He has a strong grip.

What on you would he grab like that? Your thigh? Your ass? Your hips? Fuck, your neck?

Your smile tapers at the sheer indecency of your thoughts as he lets go, and you absentmindedly smile at him to try and save face, turning to follow your boyfriend out of the house and down the driveway.

“Get home safely!” Suguru calls behind you, and you hear Choso reply in kind. You can’t muster a response. Your whole body is buzzing. It feels like there are two wolves literally fighting for dominance inside of you. One of them is urging you to go home, to calm the hell down and maybe take out all of your newfound frustration on Choso.

The other one, however, is clawing at your back, trying to drag you back towards Suguru so that you can jump him and fuck him right in the front room of his house.

Obscene. Filthy. You need to get out of here. Who are you?

You make it to the car, but after Choso puts his guitar in the backseat, you hesitate before the driver’s seat.

“Babe?” You ask, and he looks over at you.

“Yeah?”

“Can you drive?”

“Of course,” he answers easily, moving around to meet you at the driver’s side of the car. You hand him the keys, but refuse to move. He tilts his head to the side. “Are you all right?”

“Yeah, yeah,” you nod, unsure of who you’re trying to convince. You’re so torn right now. You feel so guilty for looking at another man the way you did tonight, but you’re also still so fucking horny and your angel of a boyfriend is standing right in front of you.

You decide to make a very lust-induced decision.

“Choso?”

“Yeah?” He puts his hand on your shoulder in concern. “What is it?”

He’s so fucking sweet. It warms your heart but you need something more, something crazy.

“I want you to fuck me.”

His eyes widen, and you can practically hear his heart stutter. He blinks, face reddening. “Well…when we get home, we can—”

“Right here, Choso.”

Another blink. He has no idea where this is coming from—you’ve never acted like this. Sex stays at home, in private.

“…right here? Right now?” He asks, looking around. It’s dark out now, the neighborhood lit up dimly by streetlights staggered up and down the sidewalks. “Outside?”

“In the car,” you say. That’s private enough, right? It should be. He swallows thickly.

“Are…are you sure? What if we get caught?”

You just want it so badly right now. You stretch the truth to get what you desire.

“I’m just so proud of you,” you say, heart feeling heavy. “You did so well today—you deserve it, baby.”

He smiles bashfully at the praise, scratching behind his neck. “I only did because you were here…I can wait until we get back. Don’t worry.”

It’s not working. God damn it.

You make a last-ditch effort.

“I know you can,” you say, getting in his space and touching his chest. Lowly, you add, “But I don’t think I can.”

His dark eyes widen again, an unsure smile twitching at his lips. “You want me that bad?”

It’s starting to work. “Yeah. Please, babe? Unless it makes you uncomfortable…”

“No,” he quickly shakes his head, “Let’s do it. Where do we…?”

You spring into action.

Your hand goes for the lever on the side of the driver’s seat, pulling it and reclining it all the way back.

“Sit, baby. I’ll ride you.”

He sucks in a breath and does as told, getting in the car and watching as you follow, shutting and locking the door behind yourself.

You straddle his legs and kiss him without a moment to waste, threading your hands in his hair. He reciprocates easily, sighing when he feels you pull the hair ties out to let his dark brown locks fall free. His hands find your waist as you start grinding on him to get him hard, relishing in the soft noises it starts to pull from him within minutes.

You think for a moment that this is crazy. You’re actually going to fuck Choso in a car. It is a little dangerous, but that excites you. You’re just so fucking turned on because of that infuriatingly gorgeous bassist…

Choso moans when you grind harder, his hand slipping up the leg of the denim shorts you’re wearing and past your underwear, finding you to be drenched.

“You really did want this,” he laughs breathily, and you feel another pang of guilt. He’s feeling the result of miniscule attention from Suguru. Sick. It’s sick.

You can’t do this to Choso. You need to focus on him. This is happening between the two of you and no one else.

“I did,” you choose to smile back. “Let me have it now, baby?”

He sucks in a slow breath and nods, pupils blown, reaching down to unzip his jeans. You help, popping the button and reaching down to free him from his boxers.

He’s hot and firm in your grasp and you can’t help but stroke him a few times, enjoying the groans it pulls from his throat.

Painfully aware of your own arousal, you decide not to tease him anymore and shift, lining him up with your entrance. Just like that, with all of your clothes still on, you slip him inside, moaning at the relief the pressure of his girth provides your needy walls.

His hands stay on your hips as you start bouncing on him, his brows furrowing, eyes fixed on your face.

“Fuck,” he breathes, breathing ragged and erratic. You hear the wet noises obscenely in the small space, covering his shaft with your essence, and you roll your hips, teasing his tip against the sensitive spot inside of you.

“Choso,” you hiss, aiming there. Recognizing you found it, he starts thrusting up to meet your movements, heightening your pleasure. You throw your head back, mouth falling open. “Oh god baby, yes…”

His eyes flutter shut and you start riding him faster, his jaw clenching as he bites down. A strained grunt escapes with his voice, neck veins protruding, and you move your hands before thinking, wrapping them around his neck.

He groans louder as you apply a tiny amount of pressure, voice switching and going higher. You’re thoroughly wrecking your boyfriend now and it’s making your mound practically weep over his cock, uncaring that the car is rocking with your movements.

Your eyes flit to the side out of the window, and what you see punches heat into your gut so hard you gasp.

Suguru is standing on the balcony of what must be his bedroom, looking right into the window of your car at you, and only you.

He’s holding something between his fingers that looks like a cigarette, smirking down at you as he leans his cheek against his palm. Keep going, his eyes say.

You don’t dare disobey him. The thought doesn’t even cross your mind. You ride Choso even harder, getting the head of his throbbing cock to hammer against the most sensitive part of your insides.

You chance a glance down at Choso, who is still lost in a world of his own, eyes squeezed shut, and you look back up at Suguru, who is taking a drag.

He blows out smoke and it makes you clench hard around Choso.

“Fuck,” moans your boyfriend, “M’close, so close…”

You are too. The cock inside of you is so good, the friction of your shorts on your pearl is starting to overwhelm you, and Suguru watching you with absolutely zero shame is twisting your instincts into knots.

He corrupts you with dirty thoughts just by looking at you.

If it were him, the moment you’d asked to fuck, he probably would have pushed you into the backseat. You’d have been on your hands and knees, or maybe laid out on your back as he railed you so disrespectfully you’d feel him trying to invade your ribs. He’d call you all sorts of names, degrade you for being a slut, for not being able to wait.

You moan louder, feeling so close you’re about to lose your mind. Choso mewls beneath you, voice becoming lost to the whimpers he gets only when he cums.

“Baby, baby,” his voice rings out, “Fuck, I’m cumming…”

You feel it spill inside of you and as soon as Suguru’s smirk deepens, his head tilting as if to say ‘go on’, you orgasm hard.

“Oh fuck!”

Choso grunts as you clamp down on his sensitive member, slowing his thrusts to a stop as you pant heavily. You see Suguru grin and straighten up, lingering his gaze for a moment longer before turning and leaving you alone with Choso once more.

Now without the object of your forbidden desires, you slump forward, laying over Choso’s chest. You kiss his sweaty neck lovingly, embracing him tightly as the post-coital clarity starts seeping back into your head.

“Thank you,” you breathe, “I love you, Choso.”

You do. You love him. Suguru is just a fantasy and he’s going to stay that way. You’re happy with Choso and that’s the end of the story. You’ll just have to avoid Suguru and everything will be fine.

“I love you too,” He replies softly, kissing the top of your head. “Always.”

You close your eyes, biting back a heavy sigh.

I’m so sorry, you want to say, but resolve to make it up to him by just being a better partner to him than you have been, though he’s never complained. You’re not going to let this new infatuation take root.

What you don’t know is that this is only the beginning.

---

Please don't repost or translate! Feel free to reblog/share it you liked it.

A/N: I'm not even gonna lie I'm so excited for this, I have so much hot drama planned you're gonna love it. Comment to be added to my taglist for when the next parts come out!

[nanawritesit]

Trent Lane Boyfriend Headcanons! (SFW + NSFW under the cut)

(i just finished daria and have major Trent brain rot… but there’s like no content for him so i guess i have to write it myself :p)

SFW:

He writes songs about you all the time (they don’t always make sense but you still appreciate them)

Probably shows his love through physical touch or acts of service because he’s too broke to buy you gifts or take you anywhere nice 💀

He always has an arm around your shoulder, a hand on your waist, or is at least linking pinkies with you. If you’re next to him, he’s touching you in some way

And if you ever need help with chores or a project, he offers to do it for you or help you finish it (which is saying a lot because he’s usually lazy af)

Always gives you his jacket when it’s cold without you even having to ask him :)

Loves to lay his head on your chest and fall asleep after late night gigs… you struggle to roll him off of you in the morning because he sleeps like a log 😭

Calls you his “muse” occasionally

But he mostly calls you a cuter version of your name (like how he calls Jane “Janey,”) or just a simple “Babe” or “Hon”

Most of your dates are at the bars Mystik Spiral is playing at

You’ll hang out there for a while and get pizza afterwards, then probably smoke 🍃 in the tank

He asks your opinion on song lyrics, and you’ll help him brainstorm rhymes

The man is nocturnal so you have a ton of late night phone calls

You’re basically his sugar mama because again, he’s broke and unemployed

You have to reassure him that it doesn’t bother you all the time, in fact he’s *almost* considered getting a job just for you because he loves you that much 💞

(you can call him a deadbeat all you want. i would have no problem supporting my sweet baby girl 😤)

He also gets insecure sometimes that you’ll leave him for someone more educated or successful… you’ll have to explain to him that you don’t care about that stuff and that you love him regardless of it

His idea of a perfect day is just laying in bed with you all day long… he’s big on cuddles, either laying his head on your chest or nuzzling up into your neck :)

Although he also enjoys spooning you, or having you lay on his chest while he runs his fingers through your hair (He’s the best cuddler ever, try to change my mind)

Also loves going to the music store with you, and any other shops you enjoy going to

If you like piercings, you’ll go on piercing dates together :)

If you’re nervous, he’ll hold your hand and talk you through it 💞

Keeping him company while he gets his tattoos

He likes to see what you buy for yourself so he can save up his money to buy you something nice for your birthday or anniversary 🥺

LOVES when you sleep in his t shirts ❤��� He thinks you look so hot

He doesn’t strike me as someone who has a specific type, he just likes whoever he gives with. You could be alternative like him or have the total opposite aesthetic, he just likes you for who you are 🥰

Desperately trying to get him to take care of himself by getting a better sleep schedule and maybe eating a piece of fruit every now and again 💀

Watching Sick Sad World with Jane and Daria

The two of them look up to you because you’re one of the few people they think are cool, they mostly ask you for advice on relationships, school, and resolving their disputes

Jane asking you to help her dye her hair after Daria ruined it 😀

You always encourage her and compliment her paintings, she sees you as a really cool older sister (except not actually because all of her relatives besides Trent are insane)

You try to help them out around the house with cooking and cleaning and buying groceries since their parents are never home

The other guys in the band tease him so hard because he talks about you constantly and always gets so happy when you call :)

Jesse was actually the one who set you guys up, and it makes him so happy to see you together

He keeps a picture of you on the dashboard of the tank just to make him smile whenever he sees it 💞

NSFW: (18+/ MDNI)

Lazy morning sex (even though it’s at like 4 pm) because it’s the best way to wake him up ;)

Having sex in the tank right before a show because he’s convinced he plays better after he fucks you

He’s a switch for sure, mostly because he doesn’t always have the energy to be on top

Really likes long make out sessions where you’re straddling his lap and he can run his hands all along your body

Looooves watching you ride him

But he also enjoys pinning you down and dominating you 👀

The cold metal of his rings against your skin drives you wild, especially when he’s fingering you

Will give you hickeys in the most obvious places because he thinks they look hot

Conversely, he loves it when you leave scratches down his back like you’re marking him as your territory

Listen, this man knows how to EAT 😤 (you’re probably the most nutritious thing he eats tbh)

He loves overstimulating you by making you cum on his tongue and then fucking you immediately after

But he also loves it when you return the favor… he can’t think of any better sight than you on your knees going down on him 😭

He knows that his voice turns you on and uses it against you to turn you on in public (which leads to the two of you running out to the tank for a quickie)

He’s really good at talking you through it 😫

Not super loud during sex, but he does grunt and swear a lot

And when he gets close to finishing he starts letting out some airy moans, mostly saying your name over and over

He’s not *super* freaky but he certainly knows how to show you a good time ;)

[xcherryerim]

Si tú me quisieras

(If you loved me)

Mike schmidt x Gn!reader | wc: 2.2k

“Si tú me quisieras, el amor que quisieras lo tendrías conmigo. No soy cursilera, pero si me quisieras, sería todo distinto” — Si tú me quisieras by Nia Vanie & Adrian Bello

Warning: Friends to lovers | Sappy | angst and fluff (?) | mentions of sex | fighting | a bit of aggressive Mike

notes: it seems like I love writing sappy stuff for Mike at 1-4 am. I didn’t really revise this so sorry if there is many mistakes or repeated words ✨ Also the lyrics in this story is the same as the one from the intro (and yes. Mike knows spanish here)

Summary: As time goes by, it becomes increasingly difficult for Mike not to hide the secrets that are troubling him. He has had enough and decides to reveal his feelings to you, his best friend.

You caught sight of Mike wearing the same shade of sage green shirt you were wearing. With a deep breath, you called out to him, "No, no! Change, please. That's too much of a coincidence!”

Mike sighed heavily, slamming the car door shut behind him. His eyes narrowed, frustration etched onto his face. "Can you give me a break? This is the only clean shirt I have left!"

Reluctantly, you let out a frustrated groan. It wasn't about the shirt or the coincidences; it was about how deeply it affected you every time he wore that particular color. But you knew pushing him further wouldn't solve anything. So instead, you relented, "Fine, fine."

Why does it matter anyway?" he asked, increasing the volume of the radio in an attempt to cover up his unease.

Your fingers tightened around the steering wheel as you tried to explain your concern. "Because people are going to think we're a couple,"

Mike couldn't help but feel a pang of disappointment. He had been hoping that today would be the day when you finally noticed him in the way he wanted you to. But here he was.

“But like, we aren’t so it doesn't matter, does it?”

“I guess.” You shrugged.

You started to suggest what movie to watch at the end of the day. A little tradition you guys did after running errands together, but Mike was staring at the street, drowning in his thoughts. Did you hate the idea of dating him that much?

“No hay nada que pueda hacer que me veas, y eso me duele tanto. Y aunque tú no me quieras como yo te quiero yo te seguiré amando.” / “There's nothing I can do to make you look at me, and that breaks me. Even if you don’t love me like I love you, I'll still adore you.”

"Isn't this the song that you like, Mike?" you asked, a small smile forming on your lips.

Mike's response was quiet and subdued. "Uh, yeah."

He didn't like the song, not really. He related to it, to every verse, word, and beat. It was a reflection of his feelings, a mirror to his unspoken thoughts and emotions. The lyrics echoed through the car, resonating with both of you in different ways.

“Dicen que de amor nadie se muere, pero si este dolor es la alternativa, prefiero la muerte” / “They say no one dies out of love, but if this pain is the alternative, I rather die.”

Mike sat silently next to you, the strum of guitar strings and the singer's melodic voice echoing throughout the car. A wave of disappointment washed over him, making the atmosphere in the vehicle almost suffocating. You could sense his discomfort, but you pressed on, trying to stay focused on the road ahead.

“Te estoy amando aunque no te diga nada. Estoy guardando este secreto para mí en el fondo de mi alma. Si tú me quisieras, no perdería ni un minuto más. Me entregaría con sinceridad, si te quedas conmigo.” / “I'm loving you even if I keep quiet. I’m keeping this secret in the depths of my soul. If you loved me, I wouldn't lose another minute more. I’ll sincerely give myself to you, if you stay with me.”

…

Feeling the need to intervene, Mike quickly stepped in to assist an elderly woman who was struggling to reach for a specific medicine. "Oh, let me help with that," he said, his voice filled with genuine kindness. As he handed her the item she needed, a warm smile spread across his lips, and you couldn't help but feel proud of his compassionate nature.

The woman thanked him graciously, her eyes twinkling with gratitude. "Thank you, sweetheart," she said, her gaze shifting between you both. "You two look like a nice couple. It reminds me of when my late husband and I used to go shopping together."

A sudden flush crept up your cheeks as the weight of her words settled upon the both of you. You knew it wasn't intentional, but the implication made your heart race faster than it should. Swallowing hard, you felt the need to clarify things.

"We're not a couple," you quickly replied, your voice tinged with slight awkwardness. The heat from your blush radiated outward, an audible confession of your true feelings.

Mike smiled gently at you, his eyes dancing with a mix of mirth and sadness. "Definitely not a couple," he affirmed, a hint of longing lurking beneath the surface.

As he turned to face you, he couldn't help but notice the defensive posture you took, your arms firmly crossed over your chest. Was there pain in your eyes? No, it couldn't be. He pushed the thought aside, choosing to focus on the present moment.

"Well, you seem pretty insulted by that," he remarked casually, attempting to shift the topic away from the elephant in the room.

You raised an eyebrow, feigning offense. “What? I’m not good enough for you?” Your words were laced with humor, but the underlying emotion was undeniable. There was a yearning, a desire for something more.

Mike sighed, rubbing the back of his neck as he shook his head. "We are not having this conversation again," he stated firmly. Today, he simply couldn't muster the energy for the friendly flirtation that had become a routine between the two of you.

The innocent, fun activity of grocery shopping quickly transformed into something far more uncomfortable between the two of you. The mood had shifted dramatically, leaving behind a heavy silence that seemed to grow more oppressive with every passing second.

Mike could no longer mask his emotions – his face bore the unmistakable signs of anger, complete with furrowed eyebrows and heavy breathing. His movements became more forceful as he tossed items into the cart, each action an expression of the tumultuous emotions churning within him.

Unable to bear the tension any longer, you hesitantly asked, "Are you alright?" The question hung in the air, seemingly adding fuel to the fire. The guilt you felt for asking it gnawed at your insides, knowing that you might have only exacerbated the situation.

Mike glared at you, his dark eyes flashing with hurt and resentment. At that moment, he couldn't bring himself to answer your question.

As you tried to find a way to bridge the gap, you couldn't help but wonder if this was truly the last straw in maintaining the delicate balance of your friendship. For years, the two of you had shared laughter, tears, and dreams, but now you stood on the precipice of something unfamiliar and uncertain.

…

To lighten the mood, you attempted a weak joke, "Where else, boss?" but it fell flat in the wake of the tension between the two of you.

Mike provided a terse response, focusing on giving directions to Walmart without acknowledging your attempt at humor. "I need to get a few things for Abby, she's doing a project for school," he said, buckling his seatbelt.

Attempting to ignore the growing discord, you asked, "Oh, are there any close by?" and started the car, navigating the streets according to the directions Mike had given you. However, your nerves got the better of you, and you found yourself missing turns and getting lost.

Each error only served to fuel the fire. Mike's frustration grew with every misstep, a slow burn that threatened to consume the both of you. And then, finally, it boiled over. "Left, I said fucking left!" he shouted, his voice cracking with the strain of holding back his emotions.

"My fucking god. Can you drive?"

Stung by his harsh words, you couldn't help but retaliate. "What the hell is your problem? Why are you suddenly acting like a bitch?" Angry tears pricked at your eyes, the frustration of the day taking its toll on your composure.

His eyes locked onto yours, the transit stretching on as he struggled to find the right words. Finally, he snapped, "Because you're terrible at driving!" It was a feeble excuse, an attempt to deflect from the real issue that loomed between you.

Your heart sank as you demanded answers, pleading with him to reveal the truth. "I'm not stupid, Mike. Tell me what is it!"

Mike's jaw clenched tightly, his mind racing as he tried to find the words to articulate his thoughts. But the harder he tried, the more elusive the truth seemed to become. The weight of the question pressed down upon him, threatening to crush the fragile foundation of their friendship.

Finally, he posed the question that hung between him like a cloud. "Do you hate the idea of being with me?" His heart pounded in your chest, waiting for your response, fear and hope to battle within him.

"What? Am I disgusting to you? Is it because I don't have a set job? Why?"

The weight of those words hung heavily between you, the car falling silent except for the hum of the engine. In that moment, everything felt on the line – your friendship, your future, and the truth that had been bubbling under the surface for so long.

"I never said that," you responded, your voice shaking with hurt and confusion. You grasped for some semblance of control amidst the chaos of your emotions.

"Well, you don't have to!" Mike declared, his voice wavering. Years of unspoken feelings finally burst forth, spilling out in a torrent of raw honesty. "We've avoided this for years. We're not friends!" The accusation hung in the air.

Mike recounted memories that flooded your minds, moments shared between the two of you that transcended the boundaries of friendship. "Holding hands at IKEA? Almost kissing? Showering together and almost having shower sex?"

With a bitter laugh, Mike snarled, "Friends, my balls. We're more than that, and we've been avoiding the truth for too long. It's time to face it."

"I just didn't know you liked me..." you reply, your voice barely above a whisper. The weight of the truth bore down on you, and you couldn't help but feel a sense of relief mixed with the overwhelming emotions that threatened to consume you.

Mike's eyes softened, and for a moment, the tension between you seemed to dissipate. "I've liked you for a long time," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "But I was scared to say anything, scared of losing you as a friend."

The car fell silent once more, the hum of the engine the only sound that broke the heavy silence. At that moment, the two of you sat there, grappling with the new reality that had been laid bare between you. The path forward was uncertain, but one thing was clear – the friendship you had cherished for so long has now changed.

Mike sighed deeply, attempting to gather his thoughts and steady his escalating emotions. "I understand if you don't want to ever see me again," he murmured, his tone filled with a combination of regret and resignation. Despite the turmoil, he reached out and gripped your hand tightly, a silent plea for understanding.

"But, if that is the case," he continued, his voice catching in his throat, "at least let me kiss you... for the first and last time." The request hung in the air, heavy with the implication of finality.

You felt your body tremble at his words, a mix of excitement and fear coursing through you. The prospect of sharing this intimate moment with Mike, the one person you'd always cared for, both thrilled and terrified you.

"I don't want to die without knowing what it feels like to kiss you," he said, his voice filled with a mix of longing and desperation. The weight of the moment bore down on both of you, the unspoken emotions finally giving voice.

"And you won't have to," you whispered, desperation mingling with determination in your voice. Without another word, you leaned in, closing the distance between you until your lips met his in a searing kiss that echoed the years of longing that had built up between you.

Mike hesitated for only a moment before responding, his arms wrapping around you as the passion of the moment took hold. The weight of the past years melted away, replaced by the intensity of the present. For once, the uncertainty that had plagued your friendship was gone, replaced instead by the electric connection that had always been there, hiding just beneath the surface.

As the kiss lingered, you began to realize that this was not the end, but the beginning of a new chapter for you both. The path forward may be fraught with uncertainty, but you were ready to face it together, finally embracing the love that had grown between you.

Fin, Hope you enjoyed! I just wanted to write more than smut 😪

[jinnieboosworld]

L.J.- Glitter and Rhinestones 18+

!MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

Warnings- Smut, Fem Reader

Reading Time- 11 Min

Word Count- 2,617

Series Masterlist

Synopsis- Lee Juyeon a bassist in a band sees a very sparkly girl in the audience of his band’s concert. At the end of the show he invites her and her friends backstage. Little does he know y/n hates him and his band.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ ✦ .

OH MY GOSH! THIS IS NOT REAL! IT CANT BE! IM GONNA……..OH MY GOSH!

Ji, your friend is a huge fan of the band Crimson Heartbreak. For her birthday you gifted her pit tickets to their concerts

“Oh my gosh how did you get these.” She said screeching.“I preordered them, I was planning on getting you some anyway but it happened that one of the dates was on your birthday.”

You said smiling.“And you got two. So that means you’re coming right?” Ji said still calming down from her excitement.

“Uh No.” See even though you’re best friends with Ji who’s probably the bands biggest fan, you don’t really like them in fact you hate them.

Why?

Because they have a reputation for being fboys and womanizers. It even shows in their song lyrics. And to you men with that kind of personality is just disgusting. You’ve told Ji about your dislike towards the group and about their behavior, but she always says “It’s okay because they’re Crimson Heartbreak.”

“Come on y/n it would actually be criminal for me to go to my favorite band’s concert without my favorite person.” She said shaking me.“No I don’t want to, you know I can’t stand them.” You said whining.

“Please y/n. Please.” You simply rolled your eyes and shook your head.

Suddenly Ji gasped. “What?” You asked frightened from the sudden sound.“You remember that dress, the glitter one you bought last year?” She said excitedly

“Yes,and…..” You responded confused.“You can finally wear it!” “Huh?” You said still not catching on to what she was saying.Ji groaned.

“ You said that you would never wear the dress unless you went to some crazy concert or something.” She said smirking as if she just knew you would agree. You sat for a moment thinking.

“I did really want to wear that outfit.” You thought to yourself. “Fine” you said reluctantly.Ji squealed. “But I won’t enjoy it.” You said standing firm in your stance of the group.

“Yeah right, you’ll be their biggest fan by the end of the night.” She said scoffing.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ ✦ .

“OH. MY. GOSH.” Ji said dramatically as she stood in front of the cheval mirror in your apartments living corridor.

Ji’s sense of style was completely different than yours. Contrast her bright and bubbly personality her clothing was almost always dark color shades if not black.

For the concert she decided to wear a dark green distressed mini dress, with chunky black pumps. Her makeup was a messy but uniformed Smokey eye with a dark red lip. Her dyed red hair cut into a shaggy wolf cut.She looked gorgeous and perfect for an alternative band concert.

You start to question if your outfit fits the vibe or not. You’re wearing a mesh dress with silver glitter in the pattern of stars. Your high heels covered in silver glitter. Your makeup pink and glittery, your lips glossy. Polar opposite from Ji’s matte and mature look

“Ji are you sure this is fine to wear?” You say looking at yourself in the mirror. “Of course, you look amazing!” She says exaggerating her facial expressions.“You sure it fits the genre?” You respond furrowing your eyebrows.

“Girl what genre? It’s a concert not the met gala.” She said chuckling.You smile. “You’re right.”“Oh, Ji, check and see how far away our Uber is.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“You ready Juyeon.” Said Eric has he was getting his makeup retouched.

“Yup.” Juyeon responded taking a sip from his water bottle.

“Alright, let’s go then!” Said Eric clapping his hands together as he walked away from his stylist.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The group stood in front of the crowd greeting them and hyping them up.

Juyeon strummed the cords of his bass to the chords of their opening song.He looks up and scans the crowd with his eyes, nodding his head along to the music, and smirking.As he looks around his eyes land on a girl in the crowd.

At first her outfit caught his attention, but as he squinted and focused his eyes on her features he became entranced. Through out the entire concert he tried to drag his eyes away from her seemingly enormous presence but no matter what they always fell back on to her.

He noticed how her face just seemed so utterly uninterested. Like she just didn’t want to be there.

It had gotten to the point of the concert where they were interacting with the crowd. They’d always done a segment where they would invite people on stage to sing along to their songs. The members all got to choose a person to come up, so Juyeon chose you.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Through out the entire concert you were completely miserable. Although you are a hater of the group you aren’t a lier. So you had to admit that the music was pretty good, But you still couldn’t get over the groups bad reputation.

You noticed that the group’s bassist kept looking at you. It weirded you out. You crossed your arms and pouted because the concert just seemed to go on and on. You saw the group start to pull screeching fans out of the crowd and onto the stage.

The bassist walks up to you and reaches out his hand. “Come on.” He said smiling. You point to yourself and mouth “me”. Ji screams and says “Of course you. Go.” She said pushing you towards him and smiling. Reluctantly you climb onto stage.

You put on a fake smile and shyly dance along to the song. While other real fans jump and shout like it’s the best day of their lives. Once the song ends the members ask the fans to introduce themselves and take pictures.

The bassist walks up to you and puts his arm around your shoulder. “What’s your name.” He speaks smirking charmingly while looking directly in your eyes. “Y/n” you reply blankly. “Cool, and are you from here.” He says. “Yes.” You say with still no emotion. “Ok. Well let’s take a picture then.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Juyeon was confused by her. She was at their concert but didn’t know any lyrics. She wasn’t even fazed by the fact that she was talking to him.Maybe she was just shy. But she didn’t seem scared of being in front of a crowd. Just uninterested.

“Ok. Well let’s take a picture then.” He said hoping that she’d perk up then.“Actually can you just take a picture with my friend Ji instead.” She said smiling at him. “Oh…ok yeah sure.” He responded awkwardly as he grabbed her phone in confusion.

She walked to the end of the stage and helped her extremely excited friend up the stage, and then got down herself.He took a few pictures with Ji who had an entirely different energy than her friend. Before she left the stage he whispered something in her ear.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“Eeeeeeeeh” Ji screeched as we were walking out the auditorium.

“What?” You said looking at her.

"He said they’re having an after-party and he wants us to come!" Ji squealed, practically jumping with excitement.You rolled your eyes, a mix of disbelief and annoyance washing over you.

"Great, just what I need. More time with Crimson Heartbreak."

"Come on, y/n, it could be fun! Besides, when’s the next time we’ll get invited to a party like this?" Ji said, practically begging.Sighing, you rubbed your temples.

"Fine, but only for a little while."Ji grabbed your arm, her excitement contagious despite your reluctance. "This is going to be amazing, I promise!"

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The after-party was being held at an exclusive club not far from the concert venue. As you and Ji arrived, the energy was electric. The bass from the music pulsed through the floor, and the room was filled with a mix of celebrities, fans, and the band members themselves.

Juyeon spotted you both as soon as you walked in, his eyes lighting up when he saw you. He made his way through the crowd, a confident smirk on his face. "Glad you could make it," he said, his voice smooth and enticing.Ji immediately jumped into conversation with him, leaving you standing awkwardly to the side.

You scanned the room, feeling out of place amidst the glamour and chaos."Not a fan of parties?" a voice said from behind you.

You turned to see Eric, one of the band's guitarists, leaning casually against a table. He had a playful grin on his face. "Let me guess, Ji dragged you here?"

"How’d you know?" you replied dryly."Just a hunch," he said with a chuckle. "She seems like the type to pull a friend along for the ride."

You smiled despite yourself. "Yeah, that’s Ji."As the night went on, you found yourself surprisingly enjoying Eric's company. He was charming and funny, and he seemed genuinely interested in getting to know you. Juyeon, however, kept glancing your way, his eyes dark with an emotion you couldn't quite place.

"Want to dance?" Eric asked, holding out his hand.You hesitated for a moment before shaking your head. "No, thanks. I'm not really in the mood."Eric nodded understandingly. "Fair enough. If you change your mind, let me know.

"You spent the rest of the evening nursing a drink and watching Ji have the time of her life. Juyeon’s gaze seemed to find you frequently, a mix of curiosity and frustration in his eyes. He was used to getting attention, and your disinterest was clearly throwing him off.

As the party began to wind down, Juyeon approached you again. "Hey, can we talk?" he asked, his tone more serious than before.You sighed, glancing at Ji, who was still engrossed in conversation with other fans. "Sure, I guess."He led you to a quieter corner of the club. "I noticed you didn’t really enjoy the concert," he said, looking genuinely concerned.You crossed your arms. "Yeah, I’m not a fan of your band. I only came because Ji begged me to."Juyeon raised an eyebrow.

"Any particular reason why?"You hesitated, unsure if you should be honest. "Your reputation," you finally said. "I don't like how you treat women in your lyrics and your behavior offstage."Juyeon seemed taken aback. "We’re not all like that, you know. Some of it is just for show.“Maybe," you replied, unconvinced. "But it’s hard to see past it."He nodded slowly.

"I get that. But maybe you could give us a chance? Not all of us are as bad as you think."You looked at him, his sincerity surprising you. "Maybe. But it’s going to take a lot more than a few conversations to change my mind."Juyeon smiled, a hint of challenge in his eyes. "I’m up for it."

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The following weeks were filled with small, unexpected encounters. Juyeon made a point to talk to you whenever he saw you with Ji. He'd text Ji, suggesting hangouts that included you, making it hard to avoid him.

He showed you glimpses of a different side: his genuine passion for music, his dedication to the band, and his loyalty to his friends. Slowly, your initial annoyance began to soften, though you still held onto your reservations.

One evening, after a particularly fun outing where Juyeon had been surprisingly considerate and kind, Ji nudged you. "You’re starting to warm up to him, aren’t you?"You rolled your eyes, though your smile betrayed you. "Maybe a little. But don’t tell him that."Ji laughed. "Your secret’s safe with me. But honestly, y/n, he seems really into you."You glanced at Juyeon, who was laughing with Eric across the room. "Yeah, I’m starting to see that. But I’m not making it easy for him.""And that’s exactly why he’s so intrigued," Ji said, grinning. "Just give it time.

"As weeks turned into months, Juyeon goal of making you like him didn’t waver. He was persistent, showing you that there was more to him and the band than you initially thought. And slowly, against your stubborn resolve, you began to see him for who he really was.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

One evening, Juyeon invited you to his apartment for a small get-together. Ji was busy, so it ended up being just the two of you. You hesitated but decided to go, curious to see where this would lead.Juyeon greeted you at the door with a warm smile."Glad you could make it," he said, ushering you inside.His apartment was surprisingly cozy, a mix of modern and personal touches.

"You have a nice home," you commented, looking around."Thanks," he said, leading you to the living room. "I thought we could just relax, maybe watch a movie."You nodded, feeling a bit nervous. The atmosphere was intimate, and you couldn't ignore the growing tension between you.

As the evening progressed, you found yourself getting more comfortable. Juyeon was a gracious host, and his charm was undeniable. After a couple of drinks, you both settled on the couch, a movie playing in the background.

"So, do you still hate my band?" Juyeon asked with a teasing smile.

You laughed softly. "I don't hate you guys as much anymore. You've been working hard to change my mind

."He moved a bit closer, his eyes locking onto yours."And have I succeeded?"You bit your lip, feeling the heat between you intensify.

"Maybe a little."Juyeon leaned in, his hand gently cupping your cheek.

“I'll take that as a win."His lips met yours in a slow, passionate kiss. You felt a rush of emotions, your initial resistance melting away. The kiss deepened, and before you knew it, you were straddling his lap, your hands tangled in his hair.Juyeon's hands roamed over your body, his touch igniting a fire within you.

"Are you sure about this?" he whispered against your lips.You nodded, breathless."Yes."He lifted you effortlessly, carrying you to his bedroom.The room was dimly lit, casting a soft glow on everything.

He laid you gently on the bed, his eyes filled with desire and affection.As he undressed you slowly, you felt a mix of anticipation and excitement. His hands and lips explored your body, every touch sending shivers down your spine. You reciprocated, eager to feel him, to know him in a way you hadn't before.Juyeon's movements were deliberate and gentle, yet filled with a raw passion that took your breath away.

He made you feel cherished, every kiss and caress telling you how much he wanted you.When he finally entered you, it was slow and tender, his eyes never leaving yours.The connection between you was intense, a culmination of all the tension and chemistry that had been building for months.Your bodies moved in sync, the rhythm building steadily.Juyeon's whispered words of praise and affection heightened your pleasure, making you feel desired and appreciated in ways you hadn't expected.As you both reached the peak of your pleasure, you clung to each other, the intensity of the moment overwhelming.

When it was over, you lay in each other's arms, the silence filled with a sense of fulfillment and connection.Juyeon brushed a strand of hair from your face, his eyes soft. "Thank you for giving me a chance," he said quietly.You smiled, your heart full.

"Thank you for proving me wrong."

- Fin

A.N.- Thanks for reading my fic, I can’t tell if I like it or not but if you enjoyed it please let me know and if you have any criticisms let me know as well. If you especially loved it and want a part two comment “✨”. Again thanks for reading.

Taglist- @deoboyznet @a-dream-bookmark @blue-rainydays

[katanablue]

Y’all will never guess the song I was listening to when this idea popped into my head lmfao

Dancing with Mikey is one of those things that’s just a normal part of your routine with him and one that you’ll never ever get tired of, no matter how many times he takes you by the hand and pulls you to him.

It could be any song playing from either of your phones; jazz, country, rock, 80’s, alternative, pop, Mikey won’t hesitate to start dancing and take you along with him.

His favorite specifically is when you’re cooking together, needing something to occupy the time while you wait for something to boil or bake. Music already plays from your phone and it doesn’t take long for him to turn up the volume a bit more and latch onto your hands.

Your laughter gives him energy, fuels his soul and drives him to be a better mutant because God does he love the way your face lights up each and every time he starts making you dance with him. It’s even better when you initiate first, finding the perfect song to match the mood and tug him away from the kitchen counter as soon as he’s done with whatever he’s doing.

You’re not afraid to get silly with it and it’s something you absolutely adore about the other. Making up dance moves and screaming the lyrics, not caring if your neighbors or his brothers shout complaints because in the moment it doesn’t matter, too engrossed in making a memory with the love of your life.

You like that you don’t have a specific way of jiving to whatever song it is, sometimes he’ll have you slow dancing to an upbeat song and then the next you’ll be doing the robot to a powerful ballad. His favorites are the ones he can act out literally, overdramatizing them so he can make you do that full belly laugh while other times he’ll do the choreo he saw in a movie like ‘Grease’.

And in the end he’ll always thank you the exact same way: a kiss to the back of your hand, ‘thank you for the dance, (insert whatever nickname he’s feeling)’, and then another kiss directly to your lips.

Then you use the down time to calm down, going back to tending to your cooking and checking to see if anything needs to be turned or whipped.

And if the recipe calls for another wait time, he’s already queuing up the next couple of songs, counting down the seconds until he can have you in his arms once again.

[fannyspammy]

We’re Okay

Adam Warlock x Reader

Summary: y/n & Adam disagree for the first time

Warnings: none ! just fluff :)

A/N: fifth part to the Firsts series! Sorry it took me so long to get the next part up! Had a super busy week :/ If you haven’t read the previous parts yet, my masterlist is here! (Can be read as a oneshot tho!)

taglist: @spderm4nnnn @nocturnest @joeysjaskier

[not my gif]

Adam loved everything y/n loved. Half because she was the one who introduced him to most things, and half because y/n just had good taste.

He loved all the different food she introduced him to, the books, the movies, the music. You listened to just about anything — classic crooners, r&b, pop throwbacks, show tunes.. you name it! Naturally, Adam listened to just about anything as well, but his favourites always featured a strong guitar.

Y/n nodded her head to the beat as The Black Keys filled her ears. They were one of her favourite groups, and one of the few she’d seen perform live on Terra before finding herself in space.

She was stretched over the couch, feet up on the arm rest on the side farthest from her, singing softly along to Everlasting Light.

“In me you can confide.. When no ones by your side.. Let me be your everlasting light.”

Adam walked in, cold drink in hand. “What’ya listenin’ to?” Y/n removed one of her earbuds and held it out for him to take. She retracted her legs to allow him to sit, and he pulled them back over his lap once he was settled in his spot. Taking the earbud, Adam immediately recognized the song and nodded his head in approval. Placing his drink on the coffee table, he leaned back into the pillows behind him, and they sat in contentment, singing along and creating actions to lyrics.

As the song ended, the rhythmic intro to Howlin’ For You began. “Oh, I love this one!” Adam stated. “Dan Auerbach.. what a legend.”

Y/n agreed, retelling the time she saw him live in concert. “His guitar solos were insane. Definitely my favourite guitarist.”

“Second favourite, you mean,” Adam said, shrugging lightly. Y/n raised an eyebrow and tilted her head in question. “After Adrian Belew, right?”

“Oh, I mean, he’s great, but Auerbach is still my favourite.”

Adam stared at her like he couldn’t believe the words that just came out of her mouth.

“You’re joking right? Adrian Belew is the greatest of all time!”

Y/n shrugged. “I dunno, I love his stuff too, but I think I just prefer the blues-y rock vibes over a lot of Adrian’s experimental stuff.”

Adam’s mouth was slightly agape now. “Oh c’mon. Oh Daddy? Pretty Pink Rose? I mean, the man played with David Bowie!” He was sitting up now, sharp eyebrows furrowed in frustration and hands out with his palms up in a ‘what-the-hell-are-you-talking-about’ manner.

Y/n sat up too, sensing more tension than she thought was necessary for such a trivial topic. “Babe, chill. So I don’t think Adrian Belew is the greatest of all time, so what? Why is it such a big deal to you?”

The golden man stood up now, throwing his hands down to his sides as he did. Her legs slid off his lap as he walked away from the couch, pacing a few steps away before turning around to face her again.

“Why isn’t it a bigger deal to you? How can you not think he’s the greatest guitarist of all time? He’s so clearly unmatched!”

Y/n rolled her eyes, crossing her arms over her chest. “Why is it so hard to accept that I prefer Auerbach’s style? I’m not saying Adrian isn’t great, it’s just personal preference! When it comes to the experimental stuff I can only listen in small doses. I prefer alternative. Why is that such a problem for you?”

“Because we always like the same things!” He shouted. Y/n was taken by surprise, eyebrows raised in shock before her expression softened into a more curious one. Adam sighed, rubbing his temple with his palm as he sat back down on the edge of the couch. “We… I always like everything you’ve shown me. Everything. I mean, I don’t think I’ve disagreed with you once since we met. What if it starts with this — I like Belew and you like Auerbach — and then it becomes other things? And then next thing you know we don’t agree on anything?”

Y/n stared at him intently as he explained himself. He looked like a sad puppy, eyes round and lips in a pout. She stifled a chuckle as she realized what he was saying. Leaning forward, knees bent up to her chest, she placed her hands on his thigh. He looked at where she touched him before looking into her eyes. “Adam, it’s okay for us to disagree!”

He looked at her sheepishly. “It is?”

“Yes, silly,” y/n smiled at him, amused. “It’s sweet that you’re concerned about us growing apart, but every couple disagrees on some things. And usually over more important things than who the best guitarist is.”

Adam relaxed and scooted closer, bringing his hands to rest on the back of her calves. His thumbs rubbed her shins gently. “So.. we’re okay then?”

Y/n smiled. “Yes, you idiot, we’re okay.”

Adam sighed in relief. He adjusted his position so he was resting his head on her knees, an arm hooked around her leg to hug it close to him. Y/n melted at the sight him — a powerful man who could single-handedly bring down an army, so soft and delicate with her.

She brought a hand to his head and stroked through his hair before placing a kiss on his forehead. He snuggled closer at her show of affection and y/n smiled once again.

“We’re okay.”

[munson-blurbs]

@corrodedcoffinfest Day 17: This One's For You

Word Count: 541/Rating: T/Pairing: None/CW: I cried writing this, canon-compliant, breaking the fourth wall/Tags: Eddie Munson, love letter, fanfic writers

Divider credit to @silkholland

Hey. It’s me.

C’mon…don’t be coy. You know who I am. You’ve been with me for days, weeks, months, years. I’m your rockstar, your mechanic, your dad’s best friend, your best friend’s dad. I’m a vampire, a werewolf, an ordinary guy from small-town Indiana. I’m a virgin, a sex god, a daydream, a nightmare.

I’m Eddie Munson.

Ironically, I started on a page, just some dialogue and vague gestures. A drug dealing freak with his wild curls, a love of heavy metal, and a penchant for creating sadistic D&D campaigns who somehow got dragged into a government-sponsored alternate dimension–as if one Hawkins wasn’t bad enough. But when my story was supposed to end, a chapter quietly closed amongst a sea of loss, you had just begun to pick up the pen.

Suddenly, I found myself thrust from death back into life. So many lives, as a matter of fact. Lives I never even imagined living during my long, lonely nights in the trailer park. 

From the safe haven of your hearts, I watch as you weave tales where I fall in love and achieve my wildest dreams. I cocoon myself in a light that you’ve turned on as you let me succeed, fail, and learn from my mistakes. Where I’m untethered from the judgment I’ve faced my whole life, finally free to be myself.

Some parts change: my profession, my age, my location, my sexuality, even my middle name. Other parts remain constant: my gratitude for my uncle Wayne, my love of pretzels (you eat a snack one time…), my kickass guitar playing skills. I never have to choose, because every opportunity is finally within my grasp. 

I thought it was all over on that fateful March evening. As I laid on the ground and took my final breaths, all I could think about was how I wouldn’t be able to look after my little sheep. Jeff, Grant, and Gareth would be without their lead guitarist. Dustin, Mike, and Lucas would be without their Dungeon Master. How could I leave them like this?

But then I saw it. I saw you all, a herd of lost little sheep that became shepherds. You tended to your flocks by unspooling stories. Stories that began as a whisper in your ear but found immortality because of the life and love you breathed into them. Just as I pored over song lyrics and meticulously planned campaigns, you write your stories. You write my story. My existence was never futile because it brought you all to each other.

And I’ve come to realize this: there is life after death. That cheesy saying about not truly dying until the last time someone says your name? I never understood it until I saw my name written millions of times, across one thousand universes. 

Now, my uncle may have raised a drug dealing, Satan-worshiping freak, but he also raised a gentleman. I know how to say thank you. And since I have a lot of time on my hands in the afterlife, I figured I’d learn your favorite song. All you have to do is close your gorgeous eyes and imagine my voice, just as you do when you write me. 

You ready, Sweetheart? This one’s for you. 

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