#and by the time i was kind of okay with it he was already doing other stuff without my consent and now That whole experience has damaged me

[irndad]

i wish i knew you wanted me - s.r.

a/n: okay this ended up being so so long forgive me!!! i hope you like<3 summary: based loosely on 'bad habit'. spencer got asked out by reader 5 years ago, when he was recovering from his dilaudid addiction, and turned her down. now, he's in love with her, and pining for her. also, jealous!spencer. she fell first, he fell harder. wc: ~2k

She’s very pretty. It’s distracting. Right now, she’s staring intently at his hands, and he feels hot under her gaze. It’s been a while since he’s done this, the little rocket trick, but she’s visiting the office, and Garcia had mentioned he’s a magician. 

“That’s incredible!” She exclaims, a giggle in her laugh, and he feels the swoop of his stomach, the butterflies of it all, “You got them so high up!”

“It’s just physics,” he laughs, meeting her warm gaze. Her smile is one for the ages. 

She’s here dropping off a file. They’ve known eachother a really long time, actually. She was an expert witness for them, once, years ago. She spoke with ease, both on the stand and in person. Equal measure kind and measured, and Spencer had adored her on first glance. They’d met when he was just getting clean from Dilaudid, and Spencer’s been in love with her since not long after than first meeting. That’s pretty much the only thing about her he wishes he could take back. 

He still has a hard time thinking about it, the fact that he met her when he was barely himself. Still, she’d been kind, listened to him talk and let the others tell her that he was…going through something. It was on his two month sobriety date (which she’d had no way of knowing) that she’d asked him out. 

Sometimes, when he can’t sleep, he replays the memory in his head. How she works just south of their office, and how they’d meet at the café nearest, and chat for an hour before calling a cab home. 

On the other side of the veil, he can picture that night, years ago now. How she’d looked with the snow kissing her nose, dotting the edges of her faux-fur hood. She’d stuck out her tongue to catch a snowflake, and he’d almost combusted and the adorability of it. 

“You look nice,” she’d said, although at the time he’s pretty sure he looked gaunt. He’d only recently started to gain the weight back- but still, her praise felt like stardust. 

“You look nicer,” he’d said back, gently bumping her shoulder as a fond gesture. Her little grin is well-worth how awkward they both look on the street.

“Listen,” she had said, stuffing her hands into her pockets, the size of the coat causing her hands to disapear from sight entirely, “I asked JJ and Morgan, and they said you’re not seeing anyone.”

“Oh, yeah. They love reminding me of that. Not everyone can be like Morgan and have dated half the western hemsiphere.”

He felt embarrassed, her watching him. It’s nice, but sometimes feels like staring into the sun. 

Her chuckle was nervous, not fully reaching her eyes. 

“You okay? 

“Yeah,” she swallowed again, before speaking, “I was wondering, um, if you might want to grab a drink with me?”

“Sure,” he’d replied back, amenably. He couldn’t tell why she looked so nervous, “I can’t really do hard liquor, though. Maybe we can invite the team.”

“No, Spence, I was wondering if you and I could go on a um, a date.”

And he’s frozen. Because this might be the second time he’d ever been asked out, and second, this might be his dream girl. She’s gorgeous and kind and she’s in front of him, asking him out. 

“I um,” his mouth was dry. He’d be a bad boyfriend. He was a recovering drug addict who already was bad at talking to people, and she lit up a room whenever she walked in. She finds him easy to be with, easy to care for and he’s bound to fuck it up. He couldn’t imagine giving that up because he was too greedy to take what he got. “I don’t think that would be a good idea.”

He almost took it back with incredible speed, with that flash of disapointment on her lovely face, and the knowledge that it’s because she wanted him, before she quickly regained her speech.

“That’s totally alright! We’ll just be good friends, yeah?”

In the here and now, they are friends. Best of, really. And he made the right choice. He’d lashed out at Emily a month later in a withdrawl, and he knows that he’d have done the same to her, and now, she’s still in his life. 

The drawbacks of course, to being her friend, means she has dates. Boyfriends, as well, and he’s been a…friend, through it all. Good friend. She’s never suspeced him of anything more, of course, after he’d categorically rejected it. 

(Even though this rejection plays in his head all the fucking time, like a torturous groundhog day.)

She’s beautiful today, a blue blouse with a scarf lazily around her neck, and the way she’s leaning over his desk to see the  trick before she drops off her analysis. 

“Alright, Spence,” she says, her rose perfume wafting in the air prior to her hopping off the corner, “Did you need anything else? Today is my half-day, and Harry wanted to take me to Art Insititute.”

Harry, is the boy on rotation at the moment. Spencer has no impulse control and a super-computer expert best friend, so Spencer knows that Harry is 6’0 on his Driver’s License, and is a Financial Analyst. Spencer knows from her own mouth that this will be the third date, and that he’s a little boring but she’s attracted to the fact that he was direct and wanted to go out again. 

Low bar, but one Spencer couldn’t even clear. He doesn’t say any of that, though.

“That sounds fun,” he says, instead of saying that he’d love to walk her through the inscriptions on each art piece, love to kiss her in front of something thats’ beauty does not come close to her’s. “Are you thinking it might run long, or are we still doing the bookstore and TV at mine after?”

He’s been looking forward to this all week. He bought special marshmallows for her cocoa. He also htes to imagine her date running long. 

“Nah,” she smiles, “besides, he’s just some guy. You’re Spencer.”

Morgan doesn’t say anything when he looks down at his. paperwork, and scribbles instead of thinking, the best he can. 

________________________________

Don’t think about the fact she was on a date. Don’t think about how Harry might have got to kiss her. Just don’t bring it up. 

“How was the date?”

She shrugged, pulling at the spine of a hardcover novel. 

“It was fine. Like I said, he was kind of boring.”

“So why’d you go out with him again?”

“I dunno, Spence, I just… I want a boyfriend, you know? I want someone to want to be with me.”

She is so beautiful. She laughs with her whole chest, and she listens to his stories and chimes in with her own expertise. She has a voice that seems like it’s spun gold thread, and he’d give anything to kiss her. 

“I get that,” he says, instead of anything he’s thinking. She’s wearing brown lipstick, transfer proof. He’s in love with her. “There’s got to be guys lining up for a girl like you.”

“That’s a nice thought, Spence. Not the ones I’d like.”

___________________________

This thought haunts his evening, and when he parks and they start the walk-up to his apartment, a confession hammering at his throat, a physical urge. She’s giggling at some long physics joke he’d made, and he’s addicted to the soft bell of her laughter.

His apartment is small and lovely, and he enjoys having her in the small and dark of the night, the sun set over what he wishes were two lovers. 

“You are really pretty, you know,” he says, once she’s settled into his chest, a sick satisfaction of knowing Harry got a quick thank you text before she darted over to Spencer’s arms. 

“Thanks, Spencer. You’re a good friend.”

“Why do you always say that?”

“That you’re a good friend?”

“I’m not saying you’re pretty because I’m a good friend. I’m saying it because it’s true, and I enjoy saying true things.” 

“You don’t…I don’t know why you’re saying that, Spencer. We’re friends and I adore you and I’m here right now, but you don’t need to make it harder on me.”

She looks nervous, and a little disapointed. He wants her to know, that even if he’s missed his shot, she’s not going to be alone. He’s gonna spend the rest of his life hating whoever knew to take the best thing offered to him, but Spencer- he knows he is not going to be the last to love her. He grabs her hand without thinking, her doe eyes peering into his with some emotion he can’t pin down. 

“Hey, I’m not trying…to make anything hard for you. I don’t ever want to do that. I just… some day someone’s gonna see you and want to be with you and I’m going to watch it and know it was inevitable.” 

The words taste like barbed wire. 

Ask me again, he wants to beg, I’m ready now. I’ll do it right. 

Is that even true? Is it just that he wants her bad enough he’s willing to risk not doing it right?

“You’re so sweet,” she sobs, and oh, she’s crying. Just a little, but tears prick at the corners of her eyes. “You make it so hard to be your friend. And I know that’s my problem, that you’ve always been straight up with me. I asked you out and you said no, and I know that-“

“I know that I was too late, and freaked out about being with someone like you when I was still so fucked up.” they’re so close to eachother, he can smell her chapstick. His chest aches. “Sweetheart, that had nothing to do with you. It was all me. It’s a train I missed that I’m gonna spend the rest of my life wishing I’d caught.”

He feels uncomfortably bare, even in the oversized sweater that she’d gotten him last Christmas, and that he’d pretended had been from his lover all of that week. But it’s important that she knows.

“What do you mean, ‘too late’?”

Her voice is small, so quiet he barely hears it. She threads her nimble fingers into his slender ones, and his heart is hammering. 

“I-I was on Dilaudid, or just barely off, you know- you wouldn’t want to be with someone like me. You asked me out when you didn’t even know that.”

“I know you now. Years worth of knowing.”

“And you haven’t asked me since.” 

“Spencer,” her voice is warm, rich like silk and grainy old music, and he wants to drink this image in, her fingers stroking the side of his face like he’s holy. He wonders if he’s dreaming, with how good she feels to be so close to. 

Ask me again, he wants to beg. I’m ready, now. 

“Spencer Walter Reid,” she says, properly holding his hand, bringing her soft lips to his hand, kissing his knuckle. He feels anointed, blessed by a higher power. “Could I take you out on a date?”

“Yes,” he says, finally. Five years of waiting melts away as he kisses her, warmth and light seeping into existence, a dream brought to tangible life, to touch and reality, “Actually, wait,” he says, and finishes before her face can fall, “Would you be my girlfriend?”

It’s maybe playing his cards too much, but her wide, ear to ear splitting grin is everything he needs to see, everything he might need to see for the rest of his life. 

“Took you long enough, boy-genius.”

“All you had to do was ask again!”

If she has a complaint about that, it certainly couldn’t be heard by the many, many kisses that would follow. 

[whisperofwonder]

Comfortable

Uncomfortable domestic moments when you realize just how comfortable you are together, and how much he really cares about you

I just really love domesticity, okay? Even when it isn't pretty.

Featuring: Kuroo Tetsurou, Ushijima Wakatoshi, Miya Atsumu x reader

(a few potential triggers here, sorry!) TW: vomit / vomiting in Kuroo's ; blood/period in Ushijima's, then you'll have Atsumu's which is really just light and kind of goofy oops

KUROO TETSUROU

"Ugh," You moan as you reach to flush the toilet. You get to your feet and turn to find Tetsurou still hovering behind you. You grimace thinking about how he'd held your hair back just moments ago, as you released the entire contents of your stomach into the toilet bowl.

He hands you a cup of water. "How are you feeling?" He asks as you rinse out your mouth - it's a silly question, all things considered, but you don't exactly have a snarky answer at hand.

"I'm sorry," You blurt instead, not quite sure how he can be looking at you with that almost tender expression on his face after witnessing that.

"Why are you apologizing?" He asks softly, reaching to unstick a sweaty strand of hair from your face.

"Because, it's so gross. You didn't have to come in here," You insist. "I'm an adult, and - you really shouldn't have to see that." You purposefully avoid glancing in the mirror. You don't even want to know what you must look like right now.

"But I don't want you to feel gross alone," He says as if it's simple. You open your mouth, searching for some kind of retort, but nothing comes. "I know you can take care of yourself, but you shouldn't have to," He continues. "Not when I'm right here."

It's so surprisingly sweet that you feel your face start to crumple. "Tetsu," You squeak out.

"Shh," He shushes you, "Just tell me what I can do. Do you need anything?"

"I just want to go back to bed," You admit, reaching out to grab the edge of the sink as you feel yourself begin to waver.

"Okay then," He says, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead before he scoops you up in his arms, slowly carrying you back to the bedroom and setting you gently on top of your pillows. "Try to get some rest," He murmurs, pulling the blankets up over you. "I love you," He adds, brushing the hair away from your face.

"I love you too," You murmur back, leaning into his touch and the comfort of the knowledge that he'll always be right here.

USHIJIMA WAKATOSHI

Your alarm feels even earlier than usual, and after confirming that it is indeed time to get up, you turn it off with a groan. You're feeling particularly at odds with the world already today, and part of you just wants to pull the covers over your head and go back to sleep. Instead, you slither out of bed, standing next to it as you check the e-mail notification that had popped up overnight.

"Oh," At the sound of his voice, you turn to look at Wakatoshi. He's sitting on the edge of the bed, and he's looking at you with a slight frown on his face. "My love..." He gestures down at your side of the bed, and to your horror, you see a streak of red on the otherwise pristine sheets.

Suddenly, the way you're feeling is making a lot more sense. "Oh no," You drop your face in your hands, muffling your words. "That's absolutely disgusting. I'm so sorry." You don't even want to look at him, but at the sound of rustling sheets, you finally drop your hands. Your boyfriend is methodically stripping the bed.

"Why don't you get in the shower? I'll start washing these." He says matter-of-factly. There must be something in your expression, because you see his face soften. "It's alright. It's natural," He assures you.

"But-" You can't put into words how mortified you are. Natural or not, he shouldn't have to see it, much less clean it up. "At least let me do that," You insist finally, reaching for the pile of bedding.

"No," He twists away so that it's out of your reach, "I've got it. Just get in the shower, okay?"

"You shouldn't have to, though," You say more softly.

"I don't have to," He agrees. "I want to help you. Can I do that?"

You bite your lower lip, trying not to let your hormonally-charged emotions win this battle. "Okay," You say finally.

"Okay," He echoes you, dropping the sheets into the laundry basket before crossing the room back to you, gently taking your face in his hands and pressing a kiss to your lips. "I'll make you some tea to have with breakfast," He adds after he pulls away. "Will that help?"

"Yes," You whisper, the I-love-you hidden in his words practically echoing in your head. You can't resist pulling him back in for one more kiss, hoping he feels the I-love-you-too that you press into it.

MIYA ATSUMU

"Atsumu!" You knock on the bathroom door, "Are you soon done?" It's moments like these when you really regret that this apartment has only one bathroom.

"Just got in!" He shouts back above the sound of the running shower. You bite back a sigh. He's famous for his long, hot showers.

"I really have to go!" You call back. "Can't you make it quick?" You're on the verge of pacing back down the hallway, just to help you hold it in.

"The door isn't locked! Can't ya just come in and go?" You freeze. It might be silly, but it's an unspoken milestone that you haven't crossed yet - peeing in front of each other.

"But!" You groan.

"But what? Ya've seen me naked before," You can practically hear his smirk.

"Tsumu," You whine, but in a matter of moments, you open the door anyway. It's gotten to the point where you don't have much choice. With only a moment's hesitation, you put up the toilet lid.

"How was yer day?" Atsumu begins conversationally.

"We're not doing this," You say quickly. "I'm going, and then I'm leaving the bathroom."

You hear him sigh. "Want me to get out and pee too, so we're even?" He asks, completely serious.

"No!" You say quickly. "I'm leaving now." Before he can say anything else, you're closing the door behind you.

About 10 minutes later, Atsumu finds you in the kitchen, towel wrapped around his waist as drips of water slip from his hair. "Guess we're a real couple now," He grins, leaning in and pressing a damp kiss to your lips.

"We weren't before?" You ask, quirking an eyebrow.

"'Parently not. Didn't know it was such a big deal," He says with a smug grin. "How will I ever look at you the same again?"

"Hey!" You swat his bare shoulder indignantly. "It was your idea." You remind him.

"Guess so," He hums. "Know what? I think I still love ya just as much." His smile is softer somehow, despite the teasing glint in his eyes.

"Oh?" You ask, struggling to maintain your haughty expression.

"Yeah," He nods. "Looks like you're stuck with me." He leans in for a longer kiss, almost making you forget about the small puddle that's begun to form on the floor.

[pickingupmymercedes]

A bit mushy - Lewis Hamilton

Let's see how Lewis and his wife do in a Couple's Interview.

pairing: Lewis Hamilton x Reader!

warnings: none

wordcount: +3k

a/n: Fun and light Lewis for the win, again thanks a million times to @greedyjudge2 for the idea and for some of the questions, I know I don't usually write carefree Lewis but it's my favorite ❤️❤️

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

_______________________________________

The room was buzzing—cameras being adjusted, light stands tweaked and a handful of crew members chatting as they waited for everything to come together.

Lewis sat comfortably on the low-slung, cushy armchair beside his wife, his hand resting casually on the back of her seat tracing lazy circles on her back. They looked impossibly relaxed, as if the cameras were invisible, and this was just another day at home.

The director, a laid-back guy with a coffee stain on his jeans and a clipboard that looked way too serious for the vibe of the shoot, strolled over.

He was juggling his phone and an energy drink, clearly a man trying to keep his cool while wrangling two of the most charismatic people in motorsports.

“Okay, so this should be easy” he started, his voice overly casual like he almost didn’t want to disturb the couple’s chemistry “No serious stuff. No PR-approved answers. We’re here for the real deal. Just answering a few questions about each other, nothing too scandalous. Think... fun, but, y’know, juicy enough to make people smile.”

Lewis’s wife, legs crossed and leaning slightly into her husband’s space, raised an eyebrow. “Define juicy” a sly smile tugging at her lips.

The director chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “You know, like... light-hearted scandal. Stuff people don’t already know. Maybe embarrass him a little—" he motioned to Lewis—"but in a cute way.”

Lewis shot the director a mock glare “Right, you don’t really need to ask her that” he said, his voice dripping with good-humored sarcasm.

His wife snorted, turning to face him with a grin. “Promise not to dig too deep. Unless we’re talking about those sneakers you wore to the beach...”

Lewis groaned, tilting his head back dramatically. “Not the beach sneakers again! One time and I’m branded for life.”

The crew around them snickered, and even the sound guy adjusted his headphones to cover a grin.

There was something about the way they bickered that had the whole room leaning in, as if everyone was witnessing the most intimate, casual conversation between two people who just fit.

The director, fully entertained, motioned to the cameraman to get ready. “Alright, alright. Let’s save the good stuff for the shoot. Remember, it’s just you two being yourselves. No need to put on a show.”

His wife reached over and squeezed Lewis’s hand. “No promises.”

As they shared a quiet laugh, the subtle touches and glances between them were enough to make anyone nearby smile. There was no need for grand gestures—the way they leaned into each other, how their conversations flowed effortlessly, said more than any scripted moment ever could.

They had that kind of love that made everyone else feel like they were in on something out of ordinary, just by watching.

The cameras zoomed in slowly as the couple got comfortable in their seats. Lewis leaned back, his arm still slung casually around his wife’s chair, his body slight angled so he could face her better, and she tucked one leg underneath her, turning toward him like she always did when they were in the middle of one of their many quiet conversations.

Except this wasn’t quite so quiet. The cameras were rolling now, and the world was about to get a glimpse into how they were with each other.

The director's voice came through, just loud enough to hear but never intrusive.

“Alright, let’s get this rolling. What embarrassing fashion trend did you take part in?”

Lewis immediately leaned forward, rubbing his hands together as if he was preparing for battle. “I’ll own this one. Bandanas. Wore them with everything back in the day. Thought I was some kind of rockstar or something.”

She tilted her head, eyebrows shooting up. “Bandanas?” she asked, feigning surprise. Her eyes glimmered with mischief, and she leaned closer, as if letting the audience in on a secret. “You sure it wasn’t the Timberlands?”

Lewis threw his head back with a groan, already knowing where this was headed. “Not the Timbs,” he mumbled, shaking his head like he was in actual pain.

“Yeah, the Timbs” she said, fully grinning now. “Let me remind you, you used to wear them with everything. Jeans, tracksuits, shorts, suits—”

Lewis raised a hand, stopping her, though there was a smile pulling at the corner of his mouth. “I still stand by those, alright? I don’t care what anyone says. Timbs are timeless.”

She rolled her eyes playfully, patting his leg. “Sure, babe. Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

The banter between them came so naturally, it was easy to forget there were cameras pointed right at them. The crew standing around had mostly stopped what they were doing, some watching the couple with amused smirks, others clearly touched by how playful yet undeniably affectionate they were towards each other.

“Okay, next question: What first attracted you to each other?”

Lewis’s wife leaned back, narrowing her eyes like she was trying to come up with something profound. “His sense of style,” she deadpanned, lips twitching as she fought back a grin.

Lewis blinked, his head cocked to the side. “Seriously? You were just attacking my Timbs? That guy’s sense of style?”

For a moment, she held her ground, lips pursed in mock-seriousness. But after a few seconds of staring at him—his bewildered look, the way he was just waiting for her to crack—she broke. Her laugh wasn’t exactly loud but it filled the room.

“Okay, fine!” She reached out, her hand landing on his thigh, fingers curling into the fabric of his pants. “It was your eyes.”

Lewis’s eyebrows shot up as he gave her a soft smile. He just stared at her, thrown off by her sudden honesty.

She smiled, her gaze softening too as she looked at him. “They’re intense, you know? Like you see things really deeply. The way you look at the world... it’s impossible not to notice.”

Lewis was quiet for a beat, his usual witty retorts momentarily forgotten. His hand moved instinctively to cover hers on his leg, squeezing it gently. “Well, damn” he finally said, his voice quieter than before, almost reverent.

The room around them seemed to still. There was something about the way they looked at each other that made it feel like they were the only ones there, like everyone else had faded away.

“Next one—‘On what occasion have you lied to me?’”

Lewis’s eyes went wide, a mischievous grin spreading across his face as he glanced at his wife. “Uh… Remember when I blamed Roscoe for loosing up your house shoes?”

Her mouth dropped open as she stared at him in disbelief. “No. You’re telling me you wore my house shoes, Lewis?!”

He winced, trying to play it cool. “I mean… It was just that one time! They looked comfy, and my feet were cold. I didn’t think you’d notice.”

“Oh, I noticed,” she said, crossing her arms. “I just thought Roscoe had lied on them, not that your big feet had wrecked them!”

The crew chuckled, sensing the playful tension building between them.

“Roscoe was the perfect scapegoat…” Lewis defended himself.

“My poor baby” she sighed dramatically, shaking her head. “You threw him under the bus!”

“He didn’t seem to mind,” Lewis replied with a smirk, leaning closer to her, his tone turning softer. “But hey, I bought you new ones”

She raised a brow, clearly amused but still pretending to be serious.

“Have I ever made you jealous?”

Lewis leaned back, arms crossed over his chest, a playful smirk creeping across his face as he quipped in before she could. “She has, yes.”

His wife’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Oh? When exactly?”

He didn’t answer immediately, taking his time like he always did when he wanted to build up the suspense. She leaned in; her curiosity evident in the way her lips quirked. “Come on, give me the details.”

Lewis shook his head, clearly amused. “The silver dress” he said, voice low.

For a second, she didn’t react, clearly trying to place the memory. Then, like a lightbulb flicking on, her eyes widened in recognition. “Ohhh, that night!”

Her laughter exploded from her, loud and sudden, catching even the crew off guard. She leaned back in her chair, clutching her stomach slightly as she laughed, while Lewis sat there, arms still crossed, trying his best to look annoyed but clearly failing.

“That night was something” she said between laughs, her eyes shimmering with tears of amusement.

Lewis sighed, shaking his head. “I’m glad you think it was so funny.”

“Oh, babe, you were so grumpy” she teased, nudging him with her foot.

Lewis didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he just looked at her with that mix of exasperation and fondness that made it clear that, no matter what she did, she was always going to get away with it.

“What’s a song that reminds you of each other?”

This time, she didn’t even hesitate. “A Life Like This by Nao.”

Lewis’s face softened immediately. “Why that one?”

She smiled, but it wasn’t her usual teasing grin. This one was softer, more intimate. “Because... before you, I was just going through life, you know? Things were just happening, and I wasn’t really... present. Then you came along, and it was like everything shifted. It was like my Saturn return was finally over, and I could just... breathe.”

For a moment, Lewis said nothing. His face betrayed him—no amount of his typical coolness could hide the way her words hit him.

He leaned forward slightly, his hand brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “You’re really gonna get me emotional, huh?” he murmured, his voice so low only she and the mic could pick up on his voice.

She just smiled; her eyes full of love. “That’s the plan.”

The crew exchanged looks and quiet smiles. It was impossible not to feel the connection between them, like they were watching something precious unfold right in front of them.

“What’s something you wish you did more often?”

Lewis leaned back, thinking for a moment. “Lazy mornings.”

She smiled, nodding. “Yeah?”

“Yeah” he said softly, his eyes on her. “No alarms, no schedules, no meetings. Just us. Laying in bed, talking, laughing... not worrying about what we have to do next.”

She nodded again, her smile turning wistful. “Yeah.”

Their eyes met, and once again, the room seemed to shrink around them, leaving just the two of them in their little bubble.

“Okay love birds, next up ‘What is the most treasured possession that the other has given you?’”

She paused, tapping her chin as if she really had to think about it, though the answer was clearly already on her mind. “The necklace you gave me on our third date.”

The director blinked, looking between them. “Third date?”

“Oh yeah” she nodded, leaning back in her chair, eyes sparkling as she shot Lewis a teasing look. “He was whipped by then.”

Lewis rolled his eyes, though a smile tugged at his lips. “You make it sound like I was proposing marriage.”

“You weren’t far off, though” she teased, reaching for the necklace hanging delicately around her neck. “He gave me this beautiful pendant, that he designed himself, by the way, and I remember thinking, ‘Okay, this guy is serious.’”

Lewis chuckled, scratching the back of his neck. “I knew what I wanted.”

“That you did” she teased, nudging him with her elbow.

“Yeah” he grinned. “No point in playing games.”

She looked down at the necklace again, her voice softening. “It’s not just the necklace though. It’s what it represented. He was showing me he wasn’t just there for fun—he was there for real.”

Lewis met her gaze, his smile quieter now, filled with affection. “I meant it then, and I mean it now.”

“When did you first know that you were in love?”

This time, she was the one to hesitate, a mischievous glint in her eye. “In love with whom?” she asked, biting her lip to keep from laughing.

Lewis groaned, leaning forward and pinching the bridge of his nose. “Oh, don’t start.”

She giggled, clearly enjoying every second of his exasperation. “I knew I loved you when we went through about a dozen paint stores in Milan looking for the perfect shade of gold for that painting.”

Lewis raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Oh, didn’t remember that.”

“Yeah,” she said softly. “I could’ve just mixed the colors myself and gotten something close. But you were so invested in finding the exact match that I just... I kept going. And I knew it then. I knew I loved you because you cared about the little things, the details that most people would overlook.”

Lewis stared at her; his face unreadable. Then, slowly, he smiled—a soft, genuine smile that seemed to melt the room around them.

“What’s your favorite memory of the two of you?”

Lewis leaned back, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. “That time we missed the flight in Paris.”

She let out a groan, breaking the feeling in the room, she already knew where this story was headed. “Nooo, not that!”

“Yep,” Lewis said with a smile. “So we were in Paris, right? And someone—” he pointed at her playfully, “—was absolutely convinced that the subway would get us to the airport faster than any car could.”

“It would’ve!” she protested, already laughing. “The traffic was insane!”

“Yeah sure” he replied, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “So there we were, dragging our bumps through the subway stations, hopping from one line to the next. Every station was like a maze, and we were so lost. I kept telling you, ‘Let’s just get a cab,’ but nooo, you were determined.”

She shook her head, smiling. “It was an adventure!”

“It was chaos and we missed the flight by hours” Lewis corrected, his voice teasing but fond.

“But honestly? It’s one of my favorite memories. You were so carefree, so determined, so in the present. We were lost in Paris but we weren’t lost within ourselves.”

Her smile softened, her eyes holding his for a long moment. “You never told me that was your favorite memory.”

“Yeah” he said quietly, his voice more sincere now. “I felt like we could just... slow down. Be present. No pressure, no expectations. Just you and me.”

For a moment, they were silent, the weight of his words settling between them. The room around them was so still that the soft hum of the cameras was the only sound. The crew watched them closely, as if holding their collective breath.

She leaned over, resting her head on his shoulder, and whispered just loud enough for the microphones to catch “I think that’s my favorite memory now, too.”

Lewis smiled, pressing a soft kiss to the top of her head, and for a few seconds, it was like the cameras weren’t even there. It was just them, lost in a shared memory, a world of their own.

The director, sensing the intimacy of the moment, cleared his throat gently.

“Alright, now to wrap this up ‘When can we expect little Hamiltons running around?”

Both Lewis and his wife exchanged quick glances, and almost in unison, they burst out laughing—only this time, their laughter had a bit of an edge, like they knew something the room didn’t.

Lewis leaned back in his chair, rubbing his hands together. “Ooooh, good one.”

“You had to go there, didn’t you?” she added, her eyes wide with exaggerated innocence. “Real smooth.”

The crew, sensing the couple was playing coy, leaned in just a bit, waiting for a juicy response. But instead, Lewis leaned forward, lowering his voice as if sharing a secret. “Well, you never know, right?”

His wife smirked, glancing at him sideways, playing along. “When you least expect it”

The director, not quite satisfied, pressed on. “Any plans in the near future?”

“Oh, besides, like, tomorrow’s plans?” she quipped, keeping the teasing energy alive.

Lewis chimed in again, grinning like a Cheshire cat. “We’ve got a lot of plans. Travel, Roscoe’s bath time…”

The director chuckled, shaking his head. “Dodging the question, I see.”

Lewis gave a knowing look to the camera, adding one final, cryptic comment. “We’ll let you know when it happens... maybe.”

And with that, they both smiled at the cameras, their laughter filling the air as the director called “cut” for the final time.

The room gradually came back to life, the hum of equipment being packed up and crew members chatting quietly filling the air. The couple stayed seated, though, still caught in the gentle pull of their shared moment, almost unaware of the bustling scene around them.

Lewis exhaled slowly, his shoulders relaxing as he glanced at his wife, his arm instinctively pulling her a little closer. She smiled, still leaning into him, her head resting against his shoulder, fingers absentmindedly playing with his fingers.

“That was a bit mushy, wasn’t it?” she murmured, a teasing lilt to her voice, though there was warmth in her eyes as she gazed up at him.

Lewis smirked, brushing his thumb gently against her arm. “Just a little. But you started it.”

She chuckled softly, nuzzling into his shoulder. “Tou’re not usually one for getting all sentimental on camera.”

He shrugged lightly, but there was no real defensiveness in his posture.

She smiled, her heart swelling at the softness in his gestures. “Good. I like you better that way.”

She sighed softly, sitting up a little and stretching her arms out with a satisfied groan. “People are going to think we’re a pair of softies.”

Lewis chuckled, the sound low and rumbling in his chest. “Let them.”

She smiled, sitting back in her chair and looking at him with a tenderness that only deepened as she reached out, her hand cupping his cheek for a brief moment. “I guess it’s not the worst thing to be.”

He leaned into her touch, his eyes closing briefly before he opened them and looked straight at her. “Nah, it’s not.”

Unbeknownst to them, the cameras were still rolling—just a little, a behind-the-scenes shot meant to capture those moments of candidness. The crew tried to keep their distance, giving the couple their space, but every now and then, someone would glance over, a quiet smile tugging at their lips. There was something undeniably magnetic about Lewis and his wife, the way they moved around each other, the way they fit together.

Without thinking, he stood up and extended a hand to her, pulling her up from her seat. As she stood, she let out a small laugh, one that was soft and filled with affection. But before she could fully straighten up, Lewis slipped his arms around her waist, pulling her into his chest in a gentle, protective embrace.

For a second, she stiffened—more out of surprise than anything—but then she melted into him, wrapping her arms around his neck. It was a simple gesture, nothing extravagant, but in that moment, it was everything.

“Alright, lover boy” she murmured, her voice laced with contentment. “What’s all this about?”

“Just holding you” he replied simply, his voice low and soothing, the kind of tone he used when it was just the two of them, no audience, no pressure. “Feels like we haven’t had a minute to ourselves in forever.”

She smiled as she found her place on the crock of his neck, her fingers absently tracing circles on the back of his neck “You’ll get them,” she promised quietly. “We’ll make time.”

Eventually, Lewis pulled back slightly, just enough to look down at her, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “You know,” he started, his tone teasing “about those Timbs.”

She groaned, playfully swatting at his chest. “I thought we agreed to leave the Timbs in the past.”

“I never agreed to that” he grinned, tightening his arms around her playfully. “I’m still rocking them, remember?”

She rolled her eyes, but the smile on her face betrayed her. “Well, at least one of us has evolved.”

He laughed, pressing a soft kiss to her head. “Maybe. But you love me anyway.”

“I do,” she said softly, the sincerity of the words wrapping around them both like a warm blanket. “I really do.”

______________________________________________________________

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[pathologicalreid]

for the fear of falling apart | epilogue

good things come to those who wait, and you're finally getting your happy ending

part one | part two | part three | part four | part five | epilogue

series masterlist

who? spencer reid x jareau!reader category: fluff (there's a first time for everything) content warnings: spoilers for criminal minds evolution but nothing super detailed, dad!spencer, babies, breastfeeding, takes place during s16, cancer, spencer's "special assignment" is just him being a dad word count: 1.74k a/n: the spencer reid dilf agenda is at the center of the universe. i cant believe ffofa is over. this is just a short and sweet look into what r and spencer are doing during cme - aka being parents. (the gif has nothing to do with the chapter he just looks so sexy)

“Where is she?” Spencer asked, minding the hour as he hung his token leather satchel in the entryway. He peeked around the living room before making his way to where you were in the kitchen, closing up your book of crosswords before he saw the clues and gave you all of the answers – a habit of his that you had been begging him to break.

Affixing your pen to the cover of the puzzle book, you hummed in response to his question, “It’s nine p.m., she’s asleep, in her crib.” You turned to face him, “And you may not go up there and get her,” you caught at his hand as you noticed him moving toward the stairs, “You will not wake that baby up, Spencer Reid.”

He accepted his defeat, coming back and gently wrapping his arms around you, “Did she go down okay?”

“No,” you answered bluntly, reciprocating his hug by reaching your arms up and slinging them over his shoulders. “She never does when you’re not home,” you added, providing a fact that he was already well aware of.

Spencer chuckled softly into the crook of your neck, “I thought I would’ve been able to get away earlier.”

You were unbothered, leaning into his touch, “Bedtime is at 7:30, you never would’ve made it in time.” His faculty event at school started at seven. It had been scheduled to run until midnight, but Spencer always made the effort to be home with you at the end of every day. The two of you hadn’t missed a tea date since before your daughter was born.

“But now it’s too late for us to do anything of substance,” he said, separating himself from you to switch on the electric kettle, looking over his shoulder at you, silently asking if you wanted tea.

Nodding at him, you watched as he pulled two mugs from the cabinet and dropped tea bags in each of them, “We can watch that documentary you were talking about last night.”

“You’ll fall asleep,” he countered. It was a symptom of motherhood that you hadn’t seen coming, falling asleep while watching anything.

You shrugged, “She’ll wake up to eat, I’ll wake up to feed her.” While your otherwise perfect daughter had mastered sleeping through the night within her first few months earthside, teething had ruined any semblance of a sleep schedule she had, so, she started crying to eat in the middle of the night.

Your husband didn’t seem convinced, but he grabbed the kettle off of its base and poured the hot water into your mugs, sliding a bureau-branded one toward you and keeping the octopus mug for himself. “Last time you fell asleep on the couch and I tried to get you to bed you threw things at me,” he reminded you, stirring honey into his tea before handing the sweetener to you.

“I threw a pillow at you,” you disputed, drizzling the honey into your mug before asking him to put the dish back up in the cabinet.

He rolled his eyes, leaning over the counter and smiling at you, a sweet, dopey, Harlequin romance smile. “I probably deserved it,” he acquiesced, bringing his mug to his lips and taking a sip of the lavender tea.

Spinning your mug on the counter in front of you, you raised your eyebrows and considered changing the subject, but you were lacking any kind of segue material, “So, JJ called me today,” you said.

Spencer set his octopus mug on the counter and frowned, “Are they still having problems?” He asked, resting his chin in his hands and keeping his attention on you.

Nodding, you shared a knowing look with him. Havoc had been wreaked on the BAU since Penelope left. You were lucky enough to be on maternity leave while administrators tore your unit apart and Spencer was on a special assignment – playing the long game on a case that the bureau felt needed to be closed. “I still can’t believe they dragged Penelope back, she was so content with SOAR,” you griped, knowing how much the techie’s life had improved since leaving the FBI.

“I can,” Spencer admitted, “There’s no BAU without Penelope Garcia. There were four people in that tech room trying to do the work she did,” he said, picking his mug back up before making his way around the kitchen island and sitting in the bar stool next to yours.

You leaned back in your stool, with Matt out on an assignment of his own, the BAU’s numbers had gone down drastically. “In better news, Dave went home,” you told Spencer, pointing your sock-covered foot out to nudge him gently.

His expression softened, “Good, the hotel was getting…”

“Yeah,” you agreed, sipping at your tea. Krystall had been the picture of health until she wasn’t, and losing her had nearly sent Rossi to a place you feared he’d never come back from. “Anyway, JJ asked if we were still alright with hosting Christmas this year,” you recalled from the phone call, “I said yes.”

Spencer nodded in agreement, “Have they heard anything from the oncologist?”

You frowned helplessly, “Not yet, depending on the results they might have to do more tests. I offered to take the boys next weekend if they need the time, J’s afraid mom will blab to Henry.”

“You miss it,” Spencer observed, eyes flitting over to the baby monitor on the counter.  

Rolling your eyes, “You do a job for nine years, you’re going to miss it when you take time off. Don’t act like you don’t,” you chided gently, smiling into your mug. When the bureau took everything you had been through into account, they willingly offered you an extended maternity leave, which you took without a second thought. However, you hadn’t anticipated feeling so disconnected from the team.

Spencer pursed his lips, “I do, but I like being home with you and Mila more.”

Leaning forward, you reached out and took his hand in yours, “Baby, if you want to go back to the BAU full-time, you know I’d never, ever get in the way of that.”

He shook his head dismissively, “No, not yet at least, but someday.”

The BAU was home, you knew that well enough, but now he had a home with you and Amelia. That wasn’t something he’d give up easily. You watched Spencer at he looked at the baby monitor again, “Stop praying on my downfall, she’ll wake up soon.”

Taking your empty mug in his hands, he set both yours and his in the kitchen sink, “I love you,” he told you.

Your face warmed at the expression, one of those times where there just wasn’t anything else he wanted to say – he just needed to tell you that he loved you. “I love you too,” you said, happily basking in what you assumed was your lingering new parent glow – the two of you were stronger than ever.

Quietly, Spencer loaded the rinsed mugs into the dishwasher before closing it, coming back around the counter and stopping in his tracks when a phone started to ring.

Dropping your head to the counter, you waited for the inevitable wailing to come from the nursery, when the cries started, you looked up at Spencer, “You get her, I’ll get the phone,” you negotiated.

Fishing the ringing phone – Spencer’s – off of the coffee table, you frowned at the caller ID before bringing the screen to your ear. “I need to talk to your wife,” a frantic voice said on the other end.

“Hi, Penny,” you greeted, eyes drifting to the top of the stairs where Spencer was emerging with a squawking baby in his arms.

Penelope gasped on the other end of the call, “I so very desperately need your advice. Do you remember me telling you about Tyler?” She sounded almost out of breath.

You hummed in response, “The guy from the serial killer website?” You wondered where she was going with this – technically the team wasn’t supposed to share case information with you, but that had never stopped any of them.

“Yes, that one,” she confirmed, “I kissed him.”

Surprised, you dropped down onto the couch, looking up at Spencer as you searched for an appropriate response to Penelope’s confession, “Emily is going to kill you.”

The other end of the call was silent except for Penelope trying to articulate a retort. Spencer frowned at you, swaying gently with Amelia in his arms, “What happened?”

Moving the mouthpiece away, you looked up at him, “She kissed a material witness,” you told him, watching as he clamped his lips together in a failed attempt to hide his amusement.

“This is serious,” she scolds over the phone. “I need a debrief. Coffee tomorrow?”

You nodded as the baby grew increasingly impatient in Spencer’s arms – his chest was just no good to her. “Hold on,” You said over the phone, waving for Spencer to hand the baby off to you so you could feed her.

He settled her in your arms, helping you as best he could before he was in the way, “You’ve got her?”

Spencer pressed a soft kiss to your hairline when you told him you were fine, bringing the phone back up once Mila latched, “Hey, so tomorrow, nine?” You offered, peering down as the baby nursed for comfort. “I can meet you at the kiosk in front of Quantico if that’s easier.”

Penelope sighed dramatically, “As long as you bring your pretty face and your pretty baby, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Lobbing the phone across the couch cushions, you leaned back slightly, adjusting the baby when she was done so that she could hopefully drift back to sleep. Your husband came back downstairs, having swapped his work clothes and contacts for pajamas and glasses, he deftly sat down next to you and took the baby.

Carefully, he settled her on his chest, letting her tiny limbs curl in neatly as she let out sweet coos, brown eyes fluttering shut as Spencer gently swiped his thumb across her back. That little girl had him wrapped around his finger from the moment he knew about her existence.

You shifted to rest your head on his shoulder, watching Mila drift off into her dreams, “Are you going to fall asleep like this?” Spencer asked you, keeping his voice at a whisper.

Humming, you shut your eyes briefly, “Yeah, this is my favorite show.”

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[mioons]

‎ YOU DREW STARS AROUND MY SCARS ✦ 星星

ᐢ..ᐢ enha when you relapse ㅤ✿ 𝖾𝗇𝗁𝖺 𝗁𝗒𝗎𝗇𝗀 𝓁𝗂𝗇𝖾 𝗑 𝒻𝖾𝗆. 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋 ⟢ ( 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝖿𝗈𝗋𝗍, 𝗂𝗆𝗉𝗅𝗂𝖾𝖽 𝗌𝗁, 𝖾𝗌𝗍. 𝗋𝖾𝗅𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝗌𝗁𝗂𝗉 ) . . 630 ⟡

EN— | 𝗋𝖾𝖻𝗅𝗈�� 𝗂𝖿 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖾𝗇𝗃𝗈𝗒𝖾𝖽 ♥︎ CLiCK

heeseung thinks you’re the most beautiful girl in the world. so why on earth would he ever allow you to damage or tarnish your body? it truly breaks his heart every time. he feels his heart being torn into two every time he sees a new scar on your body.

“baby, it’s gonna be okay,” he’d whisper into your hair as he cradled your trembling body.

each tear that rolled down your cheek was like a stab to his heart. he wanted to whisper into your ear and tell you he’ll take care of you forever, that he’ll love you for a lifetime.

he wishes he could take all the pain inside of your heart and give it to himself. an angel like you doesn’t deserve to suffer.

“shh.. i love you. don’t hurt yourself please? talk to me okay? i’ll do everything i can to help yeah? my pretty baby.”

jay can’t bear to see you hurt yourself, be it over something trivial or something serious, it pains him to see you in pain. seeing any sort of scar or wound inflicted upon your skin causes him to immediately rush to your side, wrapping his strong arms around your scared frame.

and god did it hurt to see you so scared, so in pain. the worse part of all this was him not being able to do anything.

he could only whisper sweet nothings into your ear, mumbling quiet, ‘i love you’s and ‘you’re gonna be okay sweetheart’s

he wanted to confront whoever or whatever that caused you so much hurt and destroy every fibre of it.

“‘s okay sweetheart, i’m here. i’m here right now with you,” he’d press a few kisses to the side of your face in hopes it would calm your nerves a little.

“i love you no matter what.”

jake doesn’t blame you for any of the hurt and pain you’re going through. in fact, he thinks he hasn’t done enough to protect you, to keep you safe from harm. how could he let such a beautiful soul like you go through anything bad in life? he wants to transfer all the scars on your body to his, to make you feel loved and so protected by him.

once he found you lying on the floor of your shared bedroom, he frantically rushed to your side and held you against his chest.

“oh my precious girl.. i’m so sorry my love,” he’d whisper into your hair, pressing kisses to the side of your head and your face.

if kissing you could take your pain away, jake would do it in a heartbeat.

“you’re so enough for me baby, don’t ever tell yourself anything otherwise.”

jake would comfort you over and over again, not feeling any ounce of discomfort or annoyance.

for you were his precious girlfriend he had to protect for eternity.

sunghoon may seem like the kind of guy to not be sentimental but in reality the moment he sees you hurting yourself or beating yourself up over something trivial, he’s already at your side.

holding your hands in his, he gently entwines both your fingers together. he’s holding your hand not only to comfort you but to stop you from hurting yourself even more. to stop you from thinking you should hurt yourself because an angel such as you should never have to have these negative thoughts in her head.

“if you can’t love yourself, let me love you for you,” he’d whisper ever so softly in your ear. sunghoon will press feather like kisses all over your tear stricken face, a silent way of telling you that even at your lowest, he’d still love you the same forevermore.

“let me be the one you share your joy and your pain with.”

taglist ╱ @flwrstqr @wonsdoll @won4kiss @dioll @tzyunaes @suneng @jakesangel @wonsprincess

[heart-eyed-love]

Jocks give Eddie a hard time. Fem!Reader. Friends-to-Lovers. Contains - Cursing, Slight Bulling, Shirtless Eddie

That Friday night after a successful night of a Dungeons and Dragons with the rest of Hellfire, you all had decided on hitting up the diner before you all reluctantly returned home.

Unfortunately, for your small group of weirdo, the basketball team had the same idea as you guys. All the jocks flowing around the small diner with their cheerleader girlfriends at their side was not making this fun, relaxing night.

And they had decided to test your patience.

You and Eddie had headed up to the counter in hopes of just getting your friends and yourselves some drinks, and you went to help him carry the drinks back.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen any of those dipshits drink water.” Eddie tease with a grin as you both collect the drinks and began to head back to your table.

“They’re teenage boys, what do you expect?” You giggle teasingly, but rather quickly your giggling is cut off by a jock trying to pass by, purposefully knocking the bottom of the drinks in Eddie's hand. Sending the soda all of the front of his shirt and dripping from his chin.

Eddie kind of just freezes, not entirely sure what happened or who did it. He just knows he fucking soaked now.

And as the jock asshole is opening his mouth, he attempts to let out a condescending “oops” but you throw your own drink in his face, muffling his attempt of speaking. He coughs on the drink that went down his throat, and tosses the other drink onto his shirt.

You walk past Eddie, who’s now even more frozen and jock who’s now drenched in an assortment of drinks, and still coughing on the drink, and head back to the table.

The boys are silently staring at you and then back to the boys who are both soaked, you set the empty cups down on the table and grab your hoodie, muttering a, “C’mon,” to the boys as you leave the table again. Walking back towards Eddie you're able to see the rest of the basketball team and their girlfriends are also silently watching the scene that unfolded in front of them.

You roll your eyes, and grab Eddie’s wrist, dragging him outside with the rest of your friends, hoping to knock him from his frozen state.

You all linger around his van, and Grant walks up to Eddie handing him some napkins he grabbed from the table, and Eddie wipes the soda that’s fortunately drying on his face.

Then Jeff speaks up, “Hey, why don’t I take the other guys home…” He offers pointing over his shoulder towards his own car, “You guys can just head home and get cleaned up….” He smiles sweetly, and it’s now you look down at your own shirt and see the dark spatters where the drink had slightly got you too.

“Yeah, okay. Thanks, man…” Eddie says sort of out of it, makes you feel even better about throwing those drinks back in that asshole's face.

You both watch as the three boys trail off to Jeff’s car and you linger by Eddie’s side.

“You okay?” You ask softly as you look back over to him, surprised to see him already looking at you.

Yeah. Yeah, I'm good…” He smiles slightly.

“Here, let’s get in…” You say knocking your knuckle against the back door of his van, and Eddie’s nodding as he goes to unlock it. He opens the door for you and you hop inside and wait for him to do the same. You crawl your way to your backpack that’s in the front seat, the seat that you always get, even if it means the boys are always stuffed in the back. You grab your water bottle from your bag and retrieve the napkins that Grant gave to Eddie.

“Take your shirt off.” You say, and it has Eddie’s eyes widening at how nonchalantly you said it.

“What…?” He asks, slightly confused.

“Take your shirt off, it’s drenched, Eddie. And your chest is probably sticky as hell…” You say as you pour some of the water on the napkins. You don’t have to ask him twice, and he’s tugging the gross shirt off.

You move closer with your wet napkin in hand as you bring it up to his chest and attempt to wipe the soda residue from his chest.

“Jeez, take a guy out to dinner first…” He’s smirking.

“Oh, I mean… I totally would, but last time I recall trying to get dinner with you some asshole poured a bunch of soda all over you. Remember that?” You tease and it only has him smiling more.

“Yeah… I think I recall something like that happening, but the part that sticks with me the most was the really hot girl that poured soda back on that asshole in my defense…”

“Oh yeah…?” You ask as continue wiping his chest off with a smirk, but not looking in his eyes.

“Yeah…” And he grabs your wrist to stop your movements, “You know, I could do this on my own…” He says as he attempts to grab the napkin from you, but you pull your hand back immediately.

“Well, where’s the fun in that?” You give him one more wipe for precaution, and then grab your hoodie and throw it to him. “For your modesty.” You smirk, crawling back to the front seat and plopping down in the passenger seat and looking back at him, “You coming?”

And he hastily pulls your hoodie on and tries to make his way back to the front, and you’re giggling as you watch him, “Would you actually take me out to dinner?” He asks with a grin, and it had you playfully rolling your eyes.

You smirk as you pat his cheek, “Yeah, I think we can work something out…”

[d1xonss]

Practice Makes Perfect

✧ Pairing : Daryl Dixon x Reader

✧ Era : Season 11

✧ Pronouns : she/her

✧ Genre : ⚠️ Smut (18+)

✧ Word Count : 8.9k

AN ~ Okay, so this was originally a request sent in by annon, but when I first uploaded it, I wasn't completely happy with the turnout. It felt a bit rushed and there were some things I wanted to change so I figured I would reupload and try again. So in other words, if you've already seen me post this once, no you didn't:) Hope you enjoy! xoxo

ps- Daryl's a sub in this so if you're into that, this is definitely for you;)

Daryl stood slumped over at the kitchen counter in the shitty apartment he now called home, the space oddly silent as the kids were off with Carol for the day. But the quiet was nice, it gave him time to think, time to let his mind wander as he slowly woke for the day. The smell of coffee hit his nose as it brewed softly from behind him, the light streaming in through the opened windows to let in the fresh breeze. 

Though his gaze remained downcast at the piece of paper that sat in front of him, his eyes rereading the words over and over again to the point where he had it memorized. The neat cursive of your handwriting, the small errors in your spelling, and especially the little heart you placed at the bottom where your name was signed. You had left it the first time you came over, and even though you didn’t have a clue in the world, he had kept it ever since. Mostly because he didn’t have the heart to throw it away. Though there might’ve been another small part of him that held onto it because it was something you wrote out for him, and him only.

He reminisced about how stressed he was that day, having just moved into the Commonwealth with two of his kids, trying to figure out the new community and routine they would have to grow accustomed to. It was all very surreal having to go back to a “normal” kind of life, Judith already asking for allowance before he even had his first day of work made his head spin. But then with just a soft knock on the door, came a sight that he never expected to see.

You stood there on the other side, all pretty and perfect, wearing a smile on your face and holding out a container of cookies as some kind of welcome. You explained that you lived just down the hall and heard about the new arrivals, wanting to do something special as you expressed your understanding for how weird it must’ve felt for him. And after offering your baked goods and assistance to whatever they might need, all Daryl could do was nod his head as he stared at you dumbly. He wasn’t trying to be rude, in fact he appreciated your words more than anything in that moment. However, he couldn’t help but ogle you as if you walked straight out of a Disney movie or something.

And it was safe to say those feelings never exactly went away. In fact every time he saw you they only seemed to worsen.

The kids however were even more hooked with you than he was, your cookies really winning them over in the beginning as they finished them within a day and a half. “Marry her.” was the first thing Judith told him after tasting the delicious treat, and he couldn’t deny he was amused. Though he obviously wasn’t looking to date or marry anyone ever, the idea of eating whatever you baked for the years to come...it tempted him a bit.

But the reality of it all was that he didn’t want to ruin his blossoming friendship with you, it was far too precious for him to ever risk. That, and he had absolutely no experience with relationships whatsoever. He had kissed a girl once when he was about fifteen, but other than that, he hadn't been with anyone in his entire life. Never even showed interest in any woman that attempted to flirt or touch him as he simply didn’t ever feel the need to want that. He always preferred to be on his own, that’s just the way that it was. 

But now as he stood there, reading over your note you left on top of the container of cookies all those months ago, he knew he was in way over his head with someone like you.

Just then the front door suddenly opened up, the sound causing him to jump a bit as your familiar voice called out, “It’s me!”

It had become a common occurrence for you to just walk into each other's homes without knocking, and though Daryl didn’t mind, now was clearly not the time. He scrambled to open up a random drawer, tossing the note inside before slamming it shut again, “Kitchen.” he called back with a huff.

He saw your head peek around the corner a few seconds later, smiling as you adjusted the strap of your purse, “Hey, you busy?”

“Nah,” he said as he awkwardly scratched the back of his neck, “Just…makin some coffee.” he gestured, offering you a thin lipped smile.

You nodded, “Where are the kids?” you asked, sitting yourself down at one of the stools across from him, “I found some things I think they’ll like, I figured I’d stop by and drop them off.”

“They’re out with Carol, she offered to take ‘em for a couple hours.”

“Oh.” you nodded again as you watched him turn around to pour himself a cup of coffee, “Well, that’s nice…you deserve some peace in the mornings every once and a while. I can just leave them here.” you suggested as you took the two little boxes out of your bag, placing them down on the counter.

He hummed a response before retrieving some milk and sugar to pour a decent amount into the mug, making you question everything as he was always adamant on having his coffee black. The way God intended or something. But then your expression softened a bit seeing him setting it down in front of you instead, making it the way he knew you loved.

“Oh, I don’t need any-” you tried to protest.

“It’s just coffee,” he said as if it were no big deal, “No roofies or anything, I swear.”

You snorted at his shitty joke, like you always did, raising the cup to your lips as you muttered, “Smartass.” just loud enough for him to hear.

He smirked a little at your response, pouring himself a cup of the steaming hot beverage as the two of you enjoyed it in the nice comfortable silence. His eyes never strayed away from you for very long however, almost as if he was casually taking in your appearance without you noticing too much. You always dressed up pretty, your hair styled to perfection, wearing some kind of boot or high heel, and paired with some fancy outfit that was far too much for the apocalypse. But Daryl never minded. In fact, he found it endearing.

Though he couldn’t help but let his mind wander a bit, noticing that it had been quite a long time since he had seen you. Usually the two of you would get together a few times a week simply because you had grown to love each other’s company. But recently you had been busy with other things, with other people. Perhaps that’s why he found himself staring at your note this morning, subconsciously missing you without even realizing it.

“You avoiding me or somethin?” he then broke the silence, his question lighthearted but a part of him was a little serious. His insecurities tending to get in the way of things.

Your brows furrowed a little, “What?”

He shrugged a bit, “Just noticed you’ve been busy lately…haven’t seen ya in a while. Miss ya.”

You gave him a sad smile, “Believe me, I’m not doing it on purpose, work has just been insane. We recruited a few new people who don’t know what the hell they’re doing, training them has been a disaster, and…” you trailed off as you looked at him, noticing the small smile he wore when watching you ramble on and on. “...I miss you too.”

“Then stay for a while.” he said, his voice soft, seeing if he could keep you a few extra minutes before you would ultimately have to go to work.

You sat up a bit straighter at the invitation, “Yeah? You want me to?”

“Course.” he reassured, though his statement made him feel a bit uneasy, roughly clearing his throat to slightly divert the topic, “Just…don’t get too comfortable cause you ain’t movin in.”

He heard you laugh softly, the sound being almost too perfect to be real, “Don’t worry, I know you like your little bachelor pad going on here.” you gestured.

He scoffed, “Yeah, when the kids ain’t hoggin it.”

You hummed before a slow knowing smile was brought to your face, gently setting down your mug, “You know, speaking of…I talked to Carol recently. She told me some pretty interesting things.”

He raised an eyebrow, whether it was one of concern or curiosity, you couldn’t tell, “Oh yeah? Bout what?”

“You. And…Connie.” you hinted.

A look of surprise crossed his face, “What bout Connie?”

You shrugged innocently, “She seems to think you have a little thing for her.” you said, taking another sip of your coffee as you looked around, “Maybe this won’t be a bachelor pad for long.��� you winked.

Daryl was left baffled. Why Carol would think he had a thing for Connie, he had no idea. But she had gotten it completely wrong, and now the girl he had been pinning over was under the same impression from the misinformation. But he couldn’t necessarily correct you, not without you questioning why. This conversation couldn’t have been going any worse, and all because he just wanted you to stay for a damn cup of coffee.

He couldn’t help but chuckle nervously, running a hand through his slightly messy hair, “You and yer wishful thinkin, girl.” he tried to brush off.

You tilted your head a bit at his dismissive tone, “I just want you to be happy.”

The sincerity in your voice made his heart flutter in an unimaginable way, finding he couldn’t stop the smile that spread onto his face. This is exactly why he liked you, your heart was far too big for your own good. “Yer pretty sweet, ya know that?”

“I’m just being honest,” you spoke softly, “If anyone deserves happiness, it’s you.”

He scoffed lightly in response, “Well, I appreciate that…but I don't think that's somethin I want...it ain’t really that simple for me. I can’t just…do that with Connie. Or any woman really. I ain’t good at that kinda stuff, I dunno what the hell m’ doin. I never even-”

A lump formed in his throat as he suddenly cut off the last part of his sentence, feeling his face get hot with embarrassment at what almost dared to slip out. He hadn’t meant to say that much, he never wanted to admit this kind of stuff to anyone let alone the woman he was enamored by. But now he had gone too far, he became far too open and honest about his inexperience, and now all he wanted to do was crawl into a hole and die. 

Apparently, the conversation could get worse.

Though whether it was because of your innocence or the fact that it was early in the morning, you weren’t picking up what he was putting down as your face morphed into confusion instead. “Never even…what?”

Oh for the love of God.

Daryl cleared his throat awkwardly as he ran a hand over his face, the redness spreading down his neck as he debated on whether or not to tell you. It was mortifying, the fact that he had gone fifty whole years without touching a woman was absolutely the last thing he wanted you to know. Yet at the same time, he trusted you. He trusted you wouldn’t laugh or make fun of him for the matter. And anyway, he felt it was a little too late to back out now given the intrigued look on your face.

“Never had…y’know…” he trailed off with a gesture of his hand, hoping he wouldn’t have to actually say it out loud.

A beat of silence passed before your eyes widened a little as you connected the dots. Though you couldn’t bring yourself to believe it. No way this man was a virgin.

“Shut up.”

Daryl felt his cheeks burn brighter at your disbelief, “M’ serious…I ain’t ever…done that before.”

“You’ve never had sex?” you asked as if to make sure you were truly on the same page.

He blinked, “No.”

You slumped back in your seat with a breath, “Wow…” you muttered, watching as he grew more uncomfortable by the second. Though you weren’t trying to make him uneasy by admitting such a thing, it just genuinely surprised you that he had gone this far in his life without sleeping with someone. I mean…he was attractive, kind, somewhat of a smartass. It was hard to believe no one had fallen for that sort of thing, causing you to wonder just how much he had missed out on.

You nodded to yourself, “We gotta get you laid or something.”

His eyes widened in absolute horror, clearly not expecting that response from you, “No, no that’s- what?” he exclaimed in disgust, “You ain’t gettin me laid.”

“Why not?” you asked in mild disappointment.

He set his mug down on the counter with a soft slam as he grunted in slight frustration, “Christ (Y/N), cause it ain’t that easy. I don’t just wanna screw around with someone, that ain’t me. I would have to have…feelings for that person to get that far, y’know?” he asked, silently pleading with you to understand.

His outlook made you slowly realize that Daryl wasn’t like any other guy you’d ever met. Well, you always knew that, but hearing his genuine words seemed to make you falter for a moment as you just simply stared at him. Any other guy would absolutely dive head first for the opportunity to have a random and meaningless hookup, something to make them feel good before forgetting about the other person as a whole. Using them to just get what they wanted. 

But Daryl…was the complete opposite; probably the biggest sweetheart the world had ever seen. You knew he would want to love and cherish that person he would share such an intimate moment with, treating them with the most respect and consideration. He would probably take it as slow as possible, not only to prolong the intimacy, but to make sure they were truly comfortable. You imagined him to be gentle and kind, even after the deed was done, he would continue to take care of them, offering to get them anything their heart desired. 

Thinking about all of this caused an unexpected flutter in your stomach, one that you didn’t expect. But you couldn’t deny it was there.

You blinked a few times to snap yourself out of it, clearing your throat awkwardly, “I know that…I honestly wouldn’t expect anything less from you.” you smiled softly.

His shoulders relaxed a bit upon hearing your response, nodding in appreciation as he assumed the topic of conversation would end here, hoping to get out of this humiliating misery. But before he could speak, your gentle voice cut off his words.

“Is there someone you have feelings for?"

His eyes widened a little at the unexpected question, "...Huh?"

"Is there someone you’d want to, you know…experience that with?” you clarified.

He paused again, swallowing nervously as there was a certain heaviness to that question he couldn’t place. Of course there was. The way he felt about you was unlike anything else he had ever experienced before. In the beginning he denied it relentlessly, because he simply couldn’t accept the fact that he had managed to open up his heart to someone so special. But there was no denying it anymore, at least to himself. Though you on the other hand, could never know the truth.

“Nah.” he said simply.

You nodded slowly in understanding, quietly tapping your fingers on the counter as if you were trying to figure out what to say. “Well…if there comes a time where there is someone, and you need some advice…I’m always around.” you assured.

He nodded slowly, “Alright...” he said in appreciation, trying to mask how he was really feeling, his heart feeling like it was about to burst out of his chest at the thought of you seeing through him.

“Dropping the topic now.” you said as you raised your hands in surrender.

He chuckled gruffly, “Thanks.”

You smiled up at him, before catching a glimpse of the time blinking on the oven, “Oh shoot, I should go. I have to head into the infirmary in like fifteen minutes.” you said as you quickly drank one last mouthful of coffee.

Daryl tried his best not to let his disappointment show, nodding once more as his eyes followed you when you moved around to place your empty mug in the sink. Though the disappointment seemed to diminish when you turned around to give him a hug, your arms going around his shoulders as you gave him a soft squeeze. He found himself smiling at your familiar gesture, patting your back before he pulled away first, his hand lingering on your arm.

“Stay outta trouble, alright?” he mumbled.

“Always.” you promised in return.

An entire week had passed since that little talk the two of you had in his home, and it was safe to say that it had been plaguing Daryl’s mind ever since. He couldn’t recall the last time he was so open with someone, not being able to tell for certain if he regretted it or not. Though he couldn’t deny that your support and understanding wasn’t something to take for granted. But the longer he thought about the interaction, the more he wished he’d told you the truth.

Maybe he should’ve laid it all out there, but then again he had a lot to lose. Having no idea how you would react to his confession, he could potentially scare you off, and that was something he didn’t know if he should risk. He became a mess of emotions as he pondered endlessly over the things that clouded his thoughts. Although he couldn’t deny that he was slowly starting to find the idea of sex more and more appealing the longer he thought about it. Maybe having a little experience wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world. But that also meant having to ask you for that experience, and he knew he would rather die than put himself out there like that.

Though as the days dragged on and he grew more restless, he physically couldn’t stop himself from thinking about it. This was way out of his comfort zone, he knew that, but he felt like he was going crazy at this point. At least if you said no then he could just move on and not absolutely spiral about the constant “what ifs.” So, with that in mind, he smoked an entire joint by himself in order to calm his nerves before gathering what little confidence he had left, and headed down to the infirmary where he knew you’d be at this hour. He couldn’t let himself think about the decision too much otherwise he knew he would surely chicken out. 

The door opened with a soft creak as he stepped inside, scanning the area for you. He disregarded the people sitting in the waiting area, clearly anticipating when their name would be called, opting out to peer around the corner to try and see if he could spot you. And sure enough he managed to catch a glimpse of your frame in the back, stocking up a nearby medicine cabinet as you organized a few pill bottles. You were wearing that little white doctors coat that he knew you hated, thinking it ruined your outfits. But he always found it quite attractive.

He awkwardly stood there for a moment as if debating whether or not to go back there, knowing he didn’t exactly have permission. His hands clenched and unclenched at his sides, letting out a small whistle in hopes to get you to look at him. It was a quiet, soft sound, but it caught your attention nonetheless, glancing over your shoulder to see him standing there lingering in the waiting room. He smiled a bit, gesturing with a hand as if asking if he could walk over to talk to you, to which you nodded almost immediately, waving him back.

Daryl let out a breath once you beckoned him to come over, silently slipping past everyone else to join you in your more secluded spot, “Hey.” he breathed.

You smiled, “Hey, what’re you doing here?”

Once you said that, it hit him. What was he doing here? He showed up to where you worked of all places to have this private discussion, not even considering the option to invite you over sometime to talk like adults. Maybe he underestimated how high he really was.

“Just uh…just wanted to see ya.” he said quietly, shoving his hands in his pockets as he figured there was no backing out now, “Can we talk for a minute?”

“Oh, um…” you trailed off as you looked around, making sure no one needed your assistance, “You might have to make it quick.”

He nodded in understanding, “Right, course…I promise it won’t take long.”

Your brows furrowed a little in concern, “What’s going on?”

He cleared his throat nervously, gripping the material of his jeans as he felt his palms begin to sweat, “You know, uh…you remember that morning you came over a few days ago? When we was talkin in the kitchen?”

“Mhm.” you nodded.

He swallowed thickly as his heart was beating concerningly fast, trying to force himself to just say it, “Well, I been thinkin…bout what you said and…all that,” he gestured with his hand, “Bout gettin some real experience.”

Your eyebrows raised a little, “Really? You changed your mind?”

“Yeah, I did,” he grunted, “I think it could help, y’know…get outta my comfort zone and whatnot. See what all the fuss is bout.” he joked dryly, purposefully dancing around the subject.

You smiled a bit in surprise that he was willing to take that step, knowing normally he wasn’t one for change or trying new things. But maybe this time he was really ready to put himself out there, and you couldn’t lie, you were happy for him. Though the more you thought about it, the more you became a bit discouraged at the thought of him with another woman. You didn’t know where it came from, this pang of jealousy, but you knew you couldn’t say anything. After all, you were his friend, and he clearly came here in search of the support you always provided.

So, you managed to push your lingering thoughts aside, smiling genuinely as you gave his arm a small nudge, “Well, I think that’s great.”

He hummed as he nodded his head, trying to force himself to just stop being a coward and ask, “But I also had…somethin to ask ya.”

You raised an eyebrow, “Oh? About advice?”

“Nah…not exactly,” he mumbled as he let out a heavy sigh, “I was just wonderin…if you’d…” he trailed off again as he took another moment to look at you. He knew there was no going back after he said this, questioning last minute if it was really worth it. But seeing that gleam in your eyes and the sweetness of your smile, the words just seemed to stumble out without his permission.

“If you’d be the one to give me some experience.” he said quietly, his tall frame leaning down a bit to mutter it quietly for your ears only.

Your stomach plummeted when you heard his quiet request, feeling as if the wind was knocked out of you as that was the last thing you expected to come out of his mouth. The way his tone dropped when he asked, the fact that he took a small step closer to tower over you more than he normally was. It was all doing something to do. The tension between you was there, thick enough to cut with a knife as you stared at him practically gaping like a fish, not knowing what to say.

On one hand, you were flattered, and a little turned on by the fact that he wanted you specifically to give him the experience he craved. But another part of you felt hesitant, as if you weren’t one hundred percent sure he knew what he was asking of you. You wanted him to get out there, escape his comfort zone, but you didn’t want him to do it just because you simply suggested it.

Though just as he was growing a bit worried at your silence, you finally spoke, “...Me? You…you want it to be me?” you whispered.

He let out a soft breath, “Well…yeah. I...I really like ya, and...I trust ya.” he admitted, gazing down at you with a certain gentleness in his eyes, “But you know…you don’t gotta if you dont want to. I ain't gonna pressure you or anythin, I just thought I'd...” he trailed off, realizing he was talking far too much.

But you didn’t feel pressured, quite the opposite really. You honestly just couldn’t believe this was actually happening, it was a lot to process, and you hardly knew what to say. Time seemed to be moving incredibly fast and slow at the same time as you stood there, staring at each other with a newfound feeling.

Though just as you were about to open your mouth to speak again, someone popped around the corner and called your name, clearly needing some help. Daryl silently cursed at the interruption, though it was to be expected. He was coming to the conclusion that this was probably the worst time to be having this discussion.

“Sounds like they need ya...” he said softly.

You tilted your head as you didn’t want to go, your expression turning sympathetic, “I’m sorry.” you whispered.

Daryl shrugged it off, “It’s alright.” he said, hesitating for a moment, before reaching out to tuck a loose strand of hair back behind your ear. Your eyes widened a little at the gesture, the comfort of his touch, feeling yourself almost leaning into his hand before he took it away too quickly.

“I’ll um…I’ll see ya around, okay?” he said with a nod before turning to head out, not even giving you a chance to respond. 

You were a little shocked at his sudden rush to get away, but at the same time you understood. He must’ve been incredibly embarrassed and ashamed, especially since you hadn’t given him an answer. A part of you wanted to call him back, but you knew better than to do that, knowing he was already too far gone to hear you anyways.

Daryl couldn’t even begin to describe his regret as he walked back home, the distance between his apartment and the infirmary giving him way too much time to think. You didn’t seem completely disgusted, but clearly you weren’t a huge fan of the idea given the look on your face. He knew this was a bad plan from the get go, but he still somehow convinced himself to do it, now wishing he had never opened up his mouth at all. He felt a certain grief wash over him as he could imagine he had ruined whatever relationship he had with you, needing to learn to let it go. 

The remainder of the day passed by in a flash, ending with him taking a long, hot shower in an attempt to ease the tension in his muscles and the thoughts circling his mind. The water sprayed down on him like an element of lava given the harsh temperature, his fingers running through his wettened hair as he rinsed out the soap and bubbles. Perhaps the longer he spent under the running faucet, the more it would make him forget about the embarrassing events of the day. It caused him to wonder what you were thinking at this moment in time, but then again a part of him didn’t want to know.

“Daryl?”

His eyes widened in surprise when he heard the sound of your voice, momentarily considering it to be just his imagination, but the sound of the front door closing with a familiar slam convinced him otherwise. What the hell were you doing here? And with the worst timing in the world.

“Y-Yeah? I’m in the shower.” he called out without thinking, the door being opened a crack and just enough to where he hoped you could hear him.

You fidgeted nervously near the front entrance, hearing his slightly muffled words made you rethink your decision to come over, seeing it clearly wasn’t the best time. “Oh, okay...should I um…should I come back later?”

“No, no,” he quickly called out again, “Just…just gimmie a sec.” he said as he frantically finished up before you had the chance to leave.

With his reassurance in mind, you stayed put as you waited for him, briefly hearing the water shut off after only a few seconds. Your thoughts ran wild as you pondered over the things you wanted to say, having not been able to take your mind off the interaction for your whole shift. It was distracting, nerve racking…but it was also a bit enticing. You had no idea what you were going to say to him, but one thing was for certain, you weren’t about to deny that his request didn’t intrigue you.

The sound of his footsteps approaching is what snapped you out of your thoughts, your eyes widening a fraction as you saw him step into the living room in nothing but a towel. The truth was, he was just far too anxious to hear what you had to say to take the time and put on real clothes. Though now as he stood a few feet from you with just a thin piece of fabric shielding him, he felt a little exposed under your lingering gaze. But you couldn’t bring yourself to look away, his messy hair sticking to the sides of his face and the water droplets that clung to his skin, it truly was a sight to behold.

Had you always looked at him like this? From the moment you met, you always saw him as a close friend and someone you could count on for anything. But now it was like a switch flipped or something, nearly drooling as you saw him in a way you never had before.

“Somethin you need, sweetheart?” Daryl’s voice broke through the silence.

You blinked a few times as you were brought back to the current situation, nodding absentmindedly, “Yeah, uh…I was hoping we could talk.”

He shifted a bit on his feet, subconsciously tugging his towel up a bit, “Bout what?” he asked dumbly. He knew why you were here; he just didn’t know what else to say.

You gave him a look that made him feel stupider than before, “About earlier…” you trailed off after a moment, attempting to find the right words, “Were you…um…did you really mean all that?”

He shrugged, “Yeah…” he breathed, “You really think I didn’t mean what I said?”

“No,” you quickly reassured with a shake of your head, “It’s just…it was all really unexpected, you know? You’ve never done anything like this before, and now all of a sudden, you’re asking me-”

“I know how it looks,” he said as he dared to take another step closer to you, “But…I’ve had these feelings for ya ever since you first knocked on that damn door, alright? It’s new to you but it ain’t new to me.”

Your expression softened as he admitted this wasn’t some spur of the moment thing, not that you thought it was. But his confirmed feelings for you only drew you closer to him, hearing the assertiveness behind every word.

“Look,” he sighed, “Goin down there and askin ya that was me bein a fuckin idiot. I shouldn’t have gone about it like that, hell, maybe I shouldn’t have even asked at all...I don’t know. But I don’t want ya to feel like ya owe me a damn thing, cause ya don’t. If you don’t wanna do this-”

“I want to.”

Daryl paused for a moment when you interrupted him, feeling a bit shocked that you had made your decision just like that. But then again, you did have hours to think it over. Meanwhile he didn’t even have to think twice when it came to you.

“Y-You do?” he asked, not meaning to stutter. He was just thrown off and absolutely floored that someone as breathtaking as you would agree to something like this with him of all people.

You took a breath as you stepped closer to him, leaving just a few inches of space, “Yeah…I really do. Honestly, I’m...pretty flattered.”

He felt a sudden burst of nervousness in his chest as the reality of the situation began to set in for him. You wanted this too. He could easily see how genuine you were being as you moved to be closer to him.

Clearing his throat gruffly, he spoke again a bit quieter, “Yer flattered?” he couldn’t help but chuckle, “Ya don’t even know the half of it.”

You smiled a little, sensing both his eagerness and unease which you seemed to find charming, “It’s just me.” you reminded.

He nodded quickly, “Yeah, yeah I know…” he said as he hesitantly rested his hands upon your arms, as if to help steady himself. “I just…I don’t know what m’ doin.” he admitted a bit sheepishly.

“I know,” you reassured, “I’ll show you…you trust me?”

He nodded again, his heart beating rapidly against his ribcage as he grew more anxious by the second. Not because of her, but because of the unknown. But it was clear he was in good hands. “I trust you.”

With his simple nod of approval, you reached up to gently grasp the back of his neck, before pulling him down to meet you halfway where your lips clashed together. He gasped quietly against your mouth, the softness of your lips already addicting as his hands instinctively squeezed your arms, wanting to keep himself grounded. The taste of you was better than he ever could’ve imagined, heavenly, unreal…but what else did he expect from someone as perfect as you? As the kiss deepened, you slowly coaxed his mouth open so you could slip in your tongue, his groan in response to you only encouraged you to keep going. His kiss was hesitant and a bit sloppy, though you couldn’t help but love it.

Your free hand moved up to his wrist, guiding his hand down toward your hip as if silently encouraging him to touch you. Daryl received the message loud and clear, but he was still a bit clueless when it came to how, slowly allowing his hand to roam the curve of your back blindly. He then pulled you a bit closer to him, wanting to feel every part of you against his skin. But with his swift movement, caused his towel to nearly slip all the way off his waist, feeling him quickly grab it before it had the chance to hit the ground. 

He cursed quietly as he pulled away from your mouth, his breathing coming out in short, harsh pants as he grew a bit flushed at the idea of being completely naked in front of you. You allowed him to collect himself for as long as he needed, noticing the red that dusted his cheeks, but you still didn’t miss the blatant lust that filled his eyes.

Your hand reached up to gently brush some hair away from his face, “You don’t have to be embarrassed around me.” you spoke so softly, so patiently, leaving a few kisses on his cheek as if to help ease him.

He sighed shakily, trying to gather himself as his eyes fluttered closed for a moment at the feel of your touch, “I know, just…never been this exposed in front of anyone before.”

“I know,” you assured again, your mouth traveling to gently nip at his earlobe, “How about we move to your room? And you can take it off when you’re ready.”

Daryl hissed softly as your teeth grazed his ear, nodding frantically at your suggestion, “Okay…yeah.” he said breathlessly before taking your hand to guide you back down the hallway.

In a flash he had taken you into his room, shutting and locking the door behind the two of you before you gestured for him to sit down on the edge of his bed. He followed your suggestion without saying a word, willing to do just about anything you wanted right now with how incredibly turned on he was. Though he was extremely nervous, he couldn’t deny how badly he wanted you, how many times he had imagined himself in situations much like this one. Completely at your mercy.

His eyes followed your movements as you came to stand in between his legs, cupping his face to angle it up toward you. “Just relax.” you whispered before slowly kissing him again with a little more force than before.

This time he couldn’t stop the moan that bubbled up in his throat, feeling the smoothness of your skin on his aging cheeks, his body physically shuttering. His hands reached out to pull you closer to his bare chest, wanting your body flush against him as his touch seemed to roam a bit more confidently. You felt his hands travel down to squeeze your ass, groaning into your mouth as your tongue invaded his mouth to taste him again. At this point he couldn’t help but wonder if this was a dream, or some kind of sick hallucination, his mind tricking his body that this was actually happening with how fast they seemed to move. But he honestly couldn’t bring himself to care right now.

You smiled against his lips as he gently groped your ass, your hands moving up towards his hair to give the roots a gentle tug as your mouths worked frantically. A shiver ran down his spine, the action making his head spin. You were so good with him, so gentle yet so firm as well. He couldn’t stop himself from breaking away from your mouth briefly, his lips moving down your neck as if he wanted to trace and memorize every last bit of your skin.

You sighed softly as your head instinctively tilted back for him, “You sure you’re a virgin? You seem pretty good at this.” you teased lightheartedly.

Chuckling against your skin, he took his time to kiss the underside of your jaw a few times before responding roughly, “Just have a good imagination is all…”

“You’ve thought about this before?”

He nodded a bit timidly against your neck, growing a bit shy at the admission, “A lot, actually…”

A smile broke out onto your face as you looked down at him, “Well, now I’m even more flattered.”

He groaned in slight embarrassment as he buried his face in the side of your neck, the words just slipping out without him being able to stop. His mind was too far in the clouds to realize fully, the lingering effects of the weed he had smoked making his mind a bit hazier. But he desperately wanted to remember every little detail, his hands trailing down toward your thighs as if he was itching to memorize your body.

“Here...” you then spoke again, moving his hands up toward the buttons of your blouse, “Help me out.”

Daryl looked back up at you with slightly widened eyes, swallowing thickly as he gave a shaky nod, beginning to undo them one by one. His calloused hands, though rough, couldn’t have been more gentle when it came to touching you. He treated every part of your skin like it was delicate glass, a piece of art to admire, as he almost didn’t feel worthy of being in this position. How could he have gotten so lucky when this was the last thing he thought he deserved.

“Keep going,” you encouraged when you felt your top fall to the floor, feeling his hands hesitantly move to unzip your skirt.

The piece of fabric slowly slid down your smooth legs and bunched at your feet, leaving you in practically nothing as you believed bras were a waste of time and effort to wear. His eyes took in every inch of you, mentally trying to capture this moment as he was already reluctant for it to end. And yet it hardly even started.

“You’re so beautiful…” he whispered as his hands reached out to touch you again, his face filled with desperation.

You smiled as you looked down at him, “Yeah?”

He nodded instantly, “Yeah…I can’t believe this is actually happening.”

A laugh escaped your lips as you leaned down to be aligned with his face, “We haven’t even gotten to the good part yet.” you said sweetly before leaving a kiss on his cheek.

Daryl let out a breath as you kissed his cheek, the reminder that this was far from over was almost reassuring. His growing need and want was beginning to be unbearable, his hands gripping your thighs a bit tighter as he felt his erection start to ache.

“You wanna take that off for me?”

Upon hearing your request, the gesture of your hand that pointed toward the towel still around his hips, he grew a bit anxious. It was no secret that he was a bit insecure with the way he looked, he was older, his hair and beard a bit graying, his skin worn and scarred. He knew he was about to be fully vulnerable with you, that being both a good and a bad thing. He did trust you, but he just hoped you liked how he looked despite the fact that he didn’t.

It took a moment for him to build up the courage, to which you were incredibly patient, before he finally pulled the towel off of him, leaving him completely bare in front of you. But your reaction was far from a negative one. Your eyes widened a little as you took him in, not being able to see his flaws he was so worried about as you were solely focused on how breathtaking he looked. His arms could’ve been sculpted by gods, his toned chest rising and falling with every heaving breath, and as your gaze traveled south, you were shocked at the bragging rights he seemed to hold. 

But the thing you wanted him to know the most, was that he was just as perfect to you as you were to him.

Though seeing his pleading expression seemed to stir something inside you, quickly slipping off your thong before stepping forward to straddle his hips in a fit of impatience. His eyes widened at your fast actions, but he wasn’t about to complain, his hands immediately going to your hips to hold to in place as he loved the feel of your skin against his. He didn’t know what to do now exactly, but he did know that he wanted more of you.

“You’re so handsome.” you praised, your mouth coming down to suck softly on the side of his neck. "So perfect for me."

A small gasp escaped him at your praise, your mouth working against his skin caused him to nearly melt beneath you. He had been called a lot of things in his life, but handsome and perfect were never one of them. It was new, different…and he loved it. He soaked up everything he could like a sponge, wanting to ravish in your touch forever. But when he felt you begin to rock against him, stroking his length with every pass of your hips, he couldn’t help the strangled moan he dared to let out. His hips instinctively bucked up against you in return, unable to help himself as he craved more than what you were giving him. All he could feel was his heart racing, his skin burning up, and his dick twitching as he physically needed more. His face nuzzled in the side of your neck, breathing you in as shivers of pleasure ran through him like currents of electricity.

You hummed, “You like that?” you asked, your mouth hovering over the shell of his ear where your teeth grazed his sensitive skin.

Daryl nodded his head frantically against you, losing himself in the lust he had never felt before in his entire life, “Yes…yes, I like it.” he stuttered out desperately, gripping onto you as a signal not to stop anytime soon.

He had never felt so good, the rhythm mixed with your kisses and taunting praise, he felt he could’ve imploded right then and there. He wanted more, his body craved more of you, but he didn’t know how to ask for it. His breathing was ragged at this point as he tried to hold himself back, his face still hidden in the crook of your neck as his lips began to place soft kisses against your skin. But as your pace grew more tortuous and slow, he couldn’t help but writhe and moan beneath you, not being able to take much more of your teasing.

You felt him pull back to look up at you, a distressed look painting his face, “Please.” he nearly whined. It was a tone you had never heard from him before, finding that you loved the way he was falling apart for you.

“Please what, honey?” you asked sweetly as if you didn’t already know, cupping the sides of his face, “Tell me what you want.”

A soft whimper escaped him in your agony, knowing damn well you knew what he meant. He looked up at you pleadingly, the smooth skin of your hands on his face feeling so good, but not good enough. “You…” he whispered needily, “I want you…please.” he begged.

Whilst he was beneath you, whimpering and pleading for you to fuck him, you on the other hand learned something new about yourself. The scene that played before you was something sinful, but you loved it far too much to feel even a little bit guilty. The burly man you had come to know as tough and stoic, just whimpered because of you. And for that, you had no choice but to give him what he so desperately needed.

In an instant you slowly sunk down onto his length, the size of him causing a moan of your own to escape through parted lips. Though Daryl on the other hand groaned loudly as he felt your tight walls enveloping him, his head falling back as he bit his lower lip in an attempt to silence the noises you threatened to pull from him with one simple move. It felt like he had just walked through the pearly gates of heaven, the feeling so surreal and pleasurable he couldn’t help but let it cross his mind.

As you adjusted to him, you looked down and studied his face, his brow already lined with sweat and his expression one of pure bliss. “You look so good like this.” you whispered, your finger gently tracing his jawline.

He wanted to scoff at your comment, thinking that he no doubt looked like a mess in front of you, but he couldn’t help but feel prideful at the thought of you loving it. It made him feel good, perhaps more confident even though he was fully flushed and exposed.

Though as he felt you begin to move, his eyes rolled to the back of his head and a low moan left him in response, feeling the heat in his stomach already beginning to build. His hands moved from your hips down to your thighs as if to encourage you to keep going, giving them a firm squeeze as he panted to try and catch his breath. He felt as if he were going insane with the waves of pleasure washing down upon him, the feeling like no other as he knew he was a goner from the moment you agreed. His head was spinning though he tried to concentrate, not wanting it to ever come to an end as he watched you steadily pick up the pace from above him.

His mind was lost on him as your movements quickened skillfully, his hips pathetically trying to match your pace though he was failing miserably. But he didn’t care. It felt too good to care. His fingers nearly dug into the soft skin of your thighs as he whimpered and squirmed, feeling himself already starting to chase his high. He felt a little embarrassed that it had taken him close to nothing to reach his peak, but then again, he couldn’t bring himself to tell you to stop.

Daryl grew desperate to say something, to warn you that he was getting more and more overwhelmed with the feeling of ecstasy, though he wasn’t able to form any coherent sentence. All that managed to come out were pathetic whines and moans as he desperately tried to pound into you, looking up at you with widened eyes in hopes you would get the message.

And you did. You understood completely. With a simple kiss on his lips and encouraging words, you let him know that it was okay. “I know, honey, I know.” you said sweetly, “Let go for me.”

He whimpered against you lips when you kissed him, hearing your words made him feel a bit more at ease as he felt himself just on the brink of losing all control he had left. But he couldn’t help the way you were making him feel. With his mind beginning to cloud and the desperate movements he made, he finally felt himself release deep inside you, burying his face in your neck as he came. You slowed down your pace a bit as you guided him through his high, trying to make it last as long as possible for him as he just gripped and thrusted into you harder. Near sobs began spilling from his lips as he clung onto your limbs, his chest rising and falling with labored breaths as his body was practically vibrating.

He hadn't meant to be this much of a mess, completely falling apart from underneath you as he chased his high so desperately. But with how unbelievable you made him feel, it was like he had no control over the noises he made t or the emotions he felt. Like you had complete control. And he loved it more than he was willing to admit.

It took him a while to come back down to earth, but you waited patiently the whole time, running your fingers through his tangled mess of hair as he collected his hazy thoughts. Though he couldn’t help but feel a bit ashamed and a bit vulnerable, knowing he didn’t last as long as he would’ve hoped. When he finally gathered the courage to look you in the eye, he feared your reaction, as if he expected you to regret what just happened.

But instead you smiled, “You okay?” you asked gently.

All he managed was a small nod in response, letting out a breath as it was clear you weren’t upset in the slightest. But as his mind wandered a bit, he began to feel selfish, realizing he couldn’t make you feel as good as you made him feel. Leaving him overthinking the things he could’ve done differently.

“I’m sorry.” he then whispered gravely.

Your brows furrowed a little in concern, “For what?”

He blushed a bit with embarrassment, almost not wanting to explain his reasoning for speaking up in the first place. But your gaze remained expectant, and he knew he should answer. “For not…makin ya feel good.” he said sheepishly.

“Hey…” you said softly as you titled his head up to look at you, “You did make me feel good.”

The truth was you enjoyed yourself, even if you didn’t finish, you didn’t care. He was still new at this, and that wasn’t something you were about to shame him for.

He grew a little surprised at your admission, “But…you didn’t…” he trailed off, almost not wanting to say it out loud.

You smiled a little at his lack of words, “It was your first time, Daryl. Don’t be so hard on yourself.” you said, kissing his cheek reassuringly.

He sighed, “I know…but I wanna make ya feel good too.” he tried to explain.

“You will,” you nodded, “Practice makes perfect, right?” you said with a small wink.

He perked right up at that, the idea of doing this again with you hadn’t even crossed his mind. He assumed it would only be a one time thing, but hearing you say that sent a spark of excitement through him.

“So…there’ll be a next time?” he asked, trying to hide his hopefulness.

You laughed softly, “Only if you want there to be.”

He quickly nodded, he would have to be an absolute fool to say no to something like that. “Course I do…I want ya…as many times as you’ll let me have ya.”

Your smile widened as you leaned in to kiss him, wrapping your arms around the back of his neck to bring him flush against you. He groaned softly as his hands danced across your back, suddenly feeling very grateful. He almost couldn’t believe someone as kind and understanding would actually want him, but he couldn’t bring himself to question it for very long. Just simply wanting to live in the moment and not take it for granted.

“Wanna go again?” you asked against his lips.

“Mhm.” he hummed immediately as he deepened the kiss, his response not having any hint of hesitation. It made you laugh softly, feeling him already getting excited all over again. It was safe to say it was going to be an eventful night.

~ Thanks for reading!

[icallhimjoey]

Not sure if you've done this but it fits the general mood of the fandom lately: I want grovel-y Joe. Knows he really fucked up but he's a guy so he doesn't know how to fix it so he just throws anything at the wall to see what sticks. And honestly we're not sure if we'll forgive him but we're definitely sticking around to see how far he's willing to go.

(yes I am in therapy 🤣)

okay im using this request to fix whatever that bullshit was that i wrote before this - hope you enjoy! Wordcount: 3.8K

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I'll Let The Sun Decide

Joe realises it in the morning. Feels like the biggest fucking idiot in the world.

Correction: the biggest fucking idiot on the moon.

He watches you walk out of his bedroom after leaving a perfect cup of coffee, exactly how he likes it, on his bedside table and everything about that makes his heart ache.

After the way he behaved last night, he knows he doesn't deserve a sweet gesture from the girl who looks like she only managed to sleep for about two hours.

You look exhausted.

He only catches a glimpse of you, and a few seconds later he can hear the coffee machine go again. You're making a coffee for yourself after making him one, and Joe can't help but groan his face into his pillow.

Fuck.

He didn't reach out for you in the night.

Your one fucking rule.

He vaguely remembers going, "Hmm?" after he raised his head off his pillow in a jolt.

"Just me." You'd whispered, nothing malicious hidden in your voice, because it was after midnight and it wasn't the time to continue whatever you'd started earlier that evening.

He should've reached over then.

He hadn't. Not even a knee to your thigh, or a toe to your foot.

Nothing.

He should've been happy you'd come back to his flat instead of going to your own. You could've so easily decided to avoid him for a bit, but you didn't. You said you'd come back, and then you did, and, fuck.

He hadn't reached out.

He hadn't even read the texts you'd sent. Left you with a bunch of grey ticks.

Well.

He had read them, but only in the notification bar.

He'd seen the messages about you making it to the office safely. Of how Charlotte was there too - you'd do the work together and you'd be done much faster that way. A little later of how you'd just be another hour, and of how you'd let him know when you'd leave.

He wanted you to feel bad about choosing your work over him, so he withheld the coloured ticks and had felt real fucking smug over it. It was sickening how right he'd felt about his actions in the moment. Every petty little thing justified, just because you'd hurt his feelings.

You'd climbed into bed after he had already fallen asleep, and the feeling of movement next to him pulled him from his slumber. And then, instead of reaching over like he should have done, he had sighed all heavily, like he was really fucking annoyed that you'd woken him up as you got comfortable under his covers. He'd rolled over and ignored you. Turned his back and festered in his own anger like a moody teenager because he truly believed you deserved it.

What a fucking loser.

Didn't touch you all night.

The realisation slaps him in the face unexpectedly, and your early-morning kind gesture is what flips the entire script. What a fucking loser of a boyfriend.

You've made the deadline.

Joe sees it when he opens his messages after taking a perfect sip of hot coffee, and it's weird how he feels awful about himself and proud of you at the same time.

He didn't need to let the world burn over such a tiny inconvenience.

Joe hates the moon.

Longs for the sun.

The moon is cold and dark and he's all alone up there, only warmed by the light the sun will bring him.

The sun. Or, the messy-haired girl with tired eyes in soft clothes too big for her body who brought him a hot cup of coffee before she even made one for herself. Either or. Same thing.

Joe stares at your messages in silence, gives you the coloured ticks he should've given you last night, and feels heavy guilt find home in the pit of his stomach.

You finished all the work in time. Probably have done a real good job at it too. Did it at the office, away from Joe's bad temper, and managed to actually focus and forget about how he told you to fuck off when you were already on your way out anyway.

What a dick-move.

Fragile ego syndrome, you'd guessed then.

That dick-move is what had you second-guessing going back over to Joe's for a while. Maybe going back to your own flat was the smarter idea. Avoid the confrontation and just text him the next day, after he'd cooled off a bit.

Maybe he'd actually read those then.

Another dick-move.

Joe could be so annoying sometimes, but it was easy to read him and you knew that just a little consideration of your time would fix whatever this silly issue was. With that in mind, you'd made your way back over to his.

You knew his dick-moves only meant he was going to feel bad about himself come tomorrow morning.

And you were right.

Besides an annoyed sigh and a soft grumble, you didn't get much else from him when you got into bed.

That was fine.

Again, you didn't think it was the right time to continue a fight anyway.

But the morning brought something new.

You woke up before Joe did and it took a few seconds for you to remember. To realise your prediction was right. Joe hasn't reached out in the night. No silent I still love you touch under the covers for you.

And it stings.

Could make you cry if you thought about it long enough.

Joe's stayed on his side of the bed, facing away from you, and you tell yourself that at least you've come back to his flat like you said you would. You finished the work you had to finish, and did the right thing by returning.

But then, you concluded, you also haven't reached out to him at all, and immediately felt bad.

Joe can be so annoying sometimes, but you do still love him, and a warm palm to a shoulder blade could've at least let him know.

It would've made you the bigger person.

Which, you still were. You came back, didn't you? But Joe was being an absolute child and you didn't want to sink down to his level.

You should've reached over. Should've touched him. You have no good excuse for not following the one rule you came up with after your first real argument, and now you feel bad.

Shit.

The coffee is to make up for it. At least a little. To say, I'm sorry I didn't reach out, here's me doing that now.

"Morning," you whispered when you saw him stir and open a squinty, confused eye.

You didn't wait for a reply. Just left the coffee there and walked back to go and make yourself one too.

Joe watched you leave and the moon came crashing down.

He knows what the coffee means.

He's read your messages, can hear you make breakfast in his kitchen and decides he needs to reach out too. With his coffee in hand, he gets up and makes his way over to his living area where he finds you rubbing your fist into an eye through a yawn, with a carton of eggs in the other hand.

"Morning," he croaks, and sees how it's only just starting to get light outside, it's so early still.

It feels a little weird and embarrassing to speak to you right now. To remember how you'd been in this same room just a few hours ago, and he'd told you to fuck off.

Fuck off, he'd said. To his girlfriend. Had meant it with his whole chest too. What a fucking idiot.

You turn your head to give him a small smile that doesn't reach your eyes, and ask, "Do you want some eggs?"

The moon can die.

He doesn't want the moon.

The moon is too far from the sun. He wants you closer and happy and well-rested and for your smile to overtake your whole lovely beautiful face when you see him and he hasn't got the faintest clue where to even start to fix it.

He doesn't know how to turn all the feelings in his chest into words to convey how sorry he feels. Has no idea what to say. Has no idea how you'll react to a verbal apology either.

But you look so soft, shoulders slouched, the scrunched up bit of fabric that held your hair up and out of your face as you slept about to slip out. And, even though he can tell it's not a real smile, you're still giving him a kind face. You're being civil.

You've made him a coffee how he likes it and just offered to make him some eggs and, Jesus, he's just the most awful person ever, isn't he?

The overwhelming need to wrap himself around all of you takes over.

Joe leaves his coffee on the side and steps closer to attach himself to your back. You accept it, and he can feel how you let your head rest against the side of his as he hugs you, arms tight around your waist.

He's glad that you let him.

But he also feels the defeat there.

The, Joe what the fuck, that's waiting to slip out of your mouth. Maybe it's why you're keeping things surface level. No time or energy to get into an actual conversation right now. Just breakfast eggs and perfect coffee.

That's okay.

Joe doesn't know what to say anyway, and he'd love some eggs, actually.

"I'd love some, but," Joe kisses the side of your face, does it quick so he doesn't have to feel you pull away from it, and then gently moves you aside. "Let me."

A first attempt at fixing it.

Joe finishes breakfast whilst you go for the quickest shower of your life. When you turn the water off he asks what time you need to leave from the kitchen. His eyes find your coffee that's going cold, and he thinks it's so stupid that you have to be back at work so soon.

This time he doesn't feel sorry for himself, though. This time he feels sorry for you.

It's a big difference.

You've only just left the office, Joe thinks. And sure, sometimes he makes long hours and feels like he lives on set, but you're in an office.

He knows that's different.

Worse.

You've got to go and present all the things you've finished and he knows you like it just as much as he does. That being: not at all. There's no use in getting angry at you.

He sees that now.

You're just as much at fault for not being able to go out with him last night as he is. That being: not at all.

Joe watches you take a few hurried mouthfuls of egg on toast, and he wants to tell you sorry before you leave.

He doesn't.

Isn't sure how, and feels like a literal child because, Jesus Christ, they're just words.

But you smile at him, even though it's only small. And you let him kiss your cheek on your way out. And when you've left, it's not even eight o'clock, which is too fucking early, and he decides he needs to give you more quiet I love yous that he didn't give you under the covers in the night the way he should've done.

You get flowers delivered to the office that afternoon.

It's a large bunch, beautiful colours, and you can't lie; it absolutely makes you smile. You can tell it's expensive, and you know he's paid extra for the same day delivery, but... he didn't reach for you last night, and you didn't reach for him either, and whenever you think of Joe, that's all that comes to mind.

You'd seen him turn to stone.

So cold and careless.

Had seen in his face how he didn't give a single shit about how inconsiderate he was being.

A bunch of flowers isn't going to magically make that visual go away, but it's nice that he' tried's trying, and you try to hold onto that.

When you leave the office that day, you text Joe that you're headed to your own flat because there's food in your fridge that needs eating before it goes off, and your dishwasher is half filled with dirty dishes that have been in there for about a week already, so you kind of need to go turn it on, and there's probably also a load of laundry you could do, plus a quick pass of your floors with a vacuum, maybe.

Joe doesn't get to read it for a few hours. Busy day on set. When he eventually does, sort of annoyed that you had to wait for his coloured ticks again, he texts back, "Yours?"

And you text back so quickly, it makes his guilt grow.

"don't forget your key, im gonna lie down "

Perfect, Joe thinks. He'll sneak in and maybe get some of your shit sorted whilst you kip on your sofa.

But when he walks in, you're not on the sofa. You're already in bed, and that's sort of heartbreaking, because it's so early, and Joe finds the food that's about to go off uneaten in your fridge still. Finds the dishwasher still half filled, smelling rank, dirty dishes growing mould in there. He also sees the full hamper that needs sorting and washing, and, how had he even had the gall to assume that you could just make time for him at a moment's notice when you hadn't even been able to take care of any of this?

Joe starts the dishwasher.

Sorts your dirty laundry and starts a dark wash.

Cooks the food that's about to go off and places it in plastic tubs to have at another time.

Notices you've not taken the flowers that he had express delivered home and tries not let that affect him, but fails.

You're not sure what it is that wakes you. The beeping of the dishwasher, or the clanging of plates as Joe places the clean ones back into their cupboards. When Joe comes to find you, you're on your side, facing away from the door, but Joe can see you're awake by the light from your phone that silhouettes you.

"You're awake," Joe says, voice surprised, and it makes you turn to look over your shoulder.

"Hey," you say softly, and Joe's eyebrows knit together automatically at how sad you sound.

"Thanks for the flowers," you turn in bed to let Joe kiss you as he bends over to place a small one to your forehead. "They got delivered during my presentation."

"Was it embarrassing?" Joe asks, sitting down next to you, one arm either side of you as he leans over. Kisses you again, but on your mouth this time.

"Very. Vanessa just barged in with them."

"Did you like them?"

"Hmm," you nod and give a little smile. Joe's glad for it, but he feels there's a distance there still. You're keeping your hands to yourself, even though his bare arms are right there.

"I um," Joe starts, and wants to start listing all the things he's done. Wants to tell you how he's been sweet, and kind, like you were with him this morning, and he wants those things to be the silent I love yous he should've given you last night.

But then he changes his mind and says, "Did the, um... did the presentation go okay?"

You nod, because it did go really well, actually. Thank fuck. But Joe doesn't ask any more questions about it, and he seems to hesitate to even speak at all. Seems to want to say something that he's clearly not saying. Afraid to say the wrong thing, maybe. You wonder if there's a sincere I'm sorry hiding in there somewhere.

"You seem tired..." he skirts around the issue, and it's disappointing, but not surprising.

"I am tired."

Then Joe looks at the empty space in your bed for a moment and gets up. Starts undressing. Leaves his clothes in a neat pile on your dresser and goes to brush his teeth.

When Joe looks at himself in the mirror, he frowns.

Fucking idiot.

Look at that coward.

He rests both hands on the sink, hangs into his shoulders, breathes through flared nostrils, and feels like a failure. You must think he is one too.

He didn't reach over last night.

With his toothbrush still in his mouth, he steps back into your bedroom and inhales a deep breath through his nose before he mumbles a barely audible and a very foamy, "I shouldn't have..."

He hears himself, grumbles low in this throat and turns on his heel, spits the toothpaste out and comes back.

Starts again.

"I shouldn't have said those things. Last night. I was being a dick, I shouldn't have done– well, anything, really. I was being mean just to be mean, I'm–"

"Joe," you interrupt, your voice soft.

You didn't reach out either.

"No," Joe argues, moves to sit back down next to you, arms back either side of you, hands pressing into the mattress. "You have nothing to be sorry for, I just," Joe sighs. Frowns. Doesn't know what to say.

What can he say to make you run a hand up one of his forearms?

"I didn't..." he tries once more, but falters again. Drops his head and knows he can't cry because he is not the person he's hurt.

He didn't reach over last night.

"Hey. I didn't either."

You read between the lines, even though your vision goes blurry with tears. You can hear the words Joe isn't saying and can read the thoughts he's not communicating. Joe's face always tells you a million things. You wonder if he's aware how easy he is to read.

You also wonder if he's aware that it's not going to be enough.

Joe swipes a thumb across your temple, close to your eye, and catches a tear that was about to slide into your hair.

He swallows thickly. Tries to swallow down whatever's hurting his throat.

"I don't want to live on the moon..." he then mutters, regretting how he set the world on fire. He wants to live on planet earth, even though it's all grey and black ashes now. He'll plant flowers there. Will feed them water, and will politely ask the sun let them grow.

Will ask you.

You're the sun.

You get to decide.

You don't fully understand what Joe means, because it sounds ridiculous, actors and their theatrics, but you tell him you don't want to live on the moon either and he huffs a laugh at how absurd that sounds coming from your straight face that's pretending it's not actively crying.

You're the sun.

Of course you don't want to live on the moon, silly.

"Your priority–" you start, breath hitching, but Joe is quick to interrupt.

"You. You. Us. I'm... it's us. I promise, it's us..." Joe sighs again, seemingly upset at remembering his own behaviour.

"Saying that is easy, though," you start, finally letting your fingers slowly wrap around one of his arms.

A touch.

It's enough to make Joe's whole face crumble.

He ducks down. Lets his arms find your shoulders to pull you up a little so he can hug you properly, both arms wrapped tightly around your frame, his face hidden into your neck, and you know Joe's only crying because of your fingertips touching his wrist. The smallest things can get him sometimes – so dramatic.

But you continue, "I believe that you believe that your priority is us, but when you're stomping around your kitchen, blaming me for shit I have no controll over, telling me that it's my fault that I–"

"No," Joe mumbles into your skin, and pulls back just enough to press his forehead against yours. "No."

And you give his forehead a slight push with yours and you want to say, yes.

Yes that's what you were doing.

Yes that's what happened.

Yes you got caught up in all of your own feelings and forgot that I have a whole set of my own.

But then Joe whispers, "I'm sorry." and you can't help but go absolutely lax in his hold.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have. I love you, I'm sorry." he whispers his apologies against your mouth through heavy breaths because he's doing his best to not cry, but he's failing, because then he feels you shake with a sob, and, fuck that, he'll banish himself to the moon, actually.

He'll live up there no matter how miserable it is, and he'll take whatever sunlight he can get, and he'll be thankful for the rays you'll allow to even reach him at all.

"You didn't t-touch–" you stutter, and immediately feel Joe squeeze you tighter.

"I'm sorry, I love you. I'm so sorry." Joe whispers right into your ear. Keeps repeating it, over and over and over.

Your one rule.

He should've never broken it.

It's good to hear the words, the I'm sorrys tumbling over his lips, and you'll accept them for now. But actions speak louder than words, and you know that there will probably be a time where the way the world treats Joe will make his head grow to twice its size again. He'll do and say similar shit. Won't want to meet you halfway, but will demand that you make the trek all the way over to him, won't care what the ground will look like, and won't care if you're wearing shoes for it or not.

Joe doesn't know it right now, but you can see into the future and know it will happen again.

And when it does, you'll grow a little colder.

Let some of your rays die out.

"Here. Lay back." Joe says after holding you for a while, and when your head finds your pillow again, Joe curls around and uses every body part of his to touch yours under the covers.

Every inch of skin touching yours is a big fat quiet I love you that he'll repeatedly tell you all night. He's not gonna let go.

He knows he's on the moon still. Up there, all alone. Cold. In the dark.

He said he's sorry, but knows it's not enough.

Wants off, but is smart enough to not set foot somewhere he's not allowed yet.

He has said that he's sorry, and now he needs to wait for the sun.

Wait for you.

And he'll touch you under the covers until you're ready.

Whispers the promises into your hair as you fall asleep.

You get to decide.

He'll let the sun decide.

---

The Taglisted

@alwayslindie, @babybluebex, @capricornrisingsstuff, @chaoticgood-munson, @demonsanddemogorgons

@djoseph-quinn, @dolcevitalifestyle, @eddies-puppet, @emma-munson, @emotionaldreamer

@everythinghasafacee, @ferfan14, @figmentofquinn, @ghost-proofbaby, @gri959

@hanahkatexo, @hazelenys, @jewellethief, @joesquinns, @keikoraven

@kennedy-brooke, @lovelyblueness, @mandyjo8719, @mexicanfolklore, @munsonluvrr

@munson-mjstan, @munsonssweets, @nadixq, @niallersfreckles, @notverywise

@pepperstories, @phyllosilicate-s, @prettiestboyreid, @readergf, @royale1803

@skulliecadaver-blog, @sherrylyn0628, @shizlac, @solzi1420, @songforeddiemunson

@sweetberry47, @take-everything-you-can, @thebellenouvelle, @tlclick73, @werepartnersnow

@witchwolflea, @yunirgo

add yourself

[cosmicdahlias]

Take Me Under

a ford x reader fic

MINORS DNI

warnings: NONCON, drugging, somnophilia, oral, smut

so this is a spiritual successor to my last fic, it’s not a continuation but the themes are similar

It was a warm summer night in Gravity Falls. The crickets chirped as you sat out on the porch with your research partner, Stanford Pines. You nursed your glass of whiskey that Ford had poured for you. It had been a long night of research, Ford was trying to build an interdimensional gateway, stuff you would’ve thought five years ago only existed in science fiction, but he really was a genius.

His other partner had already gone home for the night, Fiddleford. He was a good guy, a family man with a son, you believed his name was Tate. Tonight you were kind of happy Fiddleford had left already, you liked him just fine but the truth was you had feelings for his cohort.

You blushed whenever Ford looked your way, eyed his hands as they fiddled with the laboratory devices, wondering to yourself how his hands would feel on you. There were so many times you wanted to tell him how you felt, to confess your true feelings. With Fiddleford almost always present the timing never felt right, but tonight you had Ford all to yourself.

Neither of you said much, just taking in the night air. You bounced your leg nervously, you started to feel light headed but decided to ignore it. Ford studied your face, it was clear you were anxious about something.

“Y/n, are you okay?”

You bit the bullet and took a deep breath.

“Ford, I-“

But before you could get another word out the world around you began to sway, the corners of your vision going black, the darkness slowly creeping in. You felt yourself falling forward. The last thing you heard was Ford’s voice.

“Y/n? Y/n!”

-

Ford caught you in his arms, he looked down at you, not sure what to do. He shook you.

“Y/n! Y/n!”

He tried to collect his thoughts, what the hell had just happened? You were fine all day and now you were out cold. He put a hand to your forehead, it felt normal, you weren’t sick.

A chilling laugh that made the hairs on his neck stand on end echoed through his head.

“Well well well well well well well well well, looks like the perfect opportunity is right in front of you, sixer.”

Ford swallowed. “Bill?”

“The one and only. So what do you think of my handiwork?”

“Handiwork? What handiwork?”

“Oh come on, you’ve been pining after this kid for ages and you’ve been too darn afraid to do anything so I figured I’d throw you a bone.”

Ford felt a pit grow in his stomach “Bill… what did you do?”

“It’s really not that big of a deal, sixer. I just had you add a little something special to their drink.”

Ford was horrified. “Bill, that’s- you can’t-“

“Oh come off it Fordsy, you and I both know this is a golden opportunity. Do you seriously think you’re gonna have the guts to even kiss them when they’re awake?”

Ford bit his lip, Bill was right, he was a coward when it came to you.

“Mull it over, I’ll leave you two alone for now, don’t be a pussy. Byyyyyyeeeee.”

And with that things were quiet again, it was just Ford and you lying unconscious in his arms. He felt his pulse in his throat. He had wanted to kiss you, to know you intimately for so long. Would he really get another chance like this?

He stood up, and carried you through the front door. He walked through the dark shack, the floorboards creaking underneath his feet. He opened the door to his room and walked to the edge of his bed, setting you down gently on the plush covers.

He cupped your cheek, stroking it with his thumb. He knew it was sick, but thought you looked incredibly cute passed out. Your lips were parted slightly, so kissable. He couldn’t resist, he leaned down and kissed you deeply and felt himself grow achingly hard. Fuck, this felt so wrong but he didn’t have the will to stop himself now.

His fingers traced the top button of your blouse, undoing each of them slowly, kissing his way down the valley between your breasts as he did so.

He thumbed the delicate lace of your bra, god if you hadn’t planned to be seen like this why would you wear something so sexy underneath? He slipped a hand down your back to sit you up so he could undo your bra.

He sucked in a breath as he laid you back down and took in the sight of your breasts, they were so fucking perfect. He had pictured it in his mind thousands of times but the real thing was even better than he imagined. He took one of your nipples in his mouth, swirling it with his tongue. Taking your other breast in his hand, he circled your nipple with his index finger.

His cock throbbed through his pants. If this was wrong why was he so turned on? Was he really that depraved? He shook his head, trying to escape the thoughts and enjoy the moment.

He ran his calloused hands up your thighs and started to pull down your pants. He let out a small dark chuckle, matching underwear. Yeah, you were asking for this. He hooked his thumbs in the waistband of your panties and slid them off your legs. The sight of you elicited another sinister laugh from him. You were soaking wet, even in your unconscious state your body begged for him.

He pulled his hands off of you and began removing his trench coat, next his sweater vest and collared shirt. He unbuckled his belt, letting it hit the floor with a loud thud. He slid his boxers off of his hips and let them fall over his discarded pants.

He stroked himself absentmindedly as he studied your naked body. He wished he had a polaroid camera so he could save this moment forever. He wanted to ravage you, claim you. Then it occurred to him that it would only be fair to make you cum if he was going to destroy you.

He slid himself down the length of your body, leaving a trail of kisses in his wake. His hot breath tickled your pussy. He took your clit in his mouth, his tongue flicking it rapidly. He moaned into your pussy, you tasted so fucking good. He wished that you were awake so you could tangle your fingers in his hair. He slid his index and middle finger inside of you, pumping roughly into you.

He felt your walls tighten around his fingers, your wetness dripping out of you. He worked you with a steady rhythm, savoring the delicious wet sounds of his fingers sliding in and out of you.

He sucked your clit furiously, his fingers fucking you with a brutal intensity. Your pussy began to spasm around his fingers, he knew you were close. He kept at his pace, wanting to push you to orgasm.

“That’s it, baby, cum for me.”

You began to pulse around his fingers, a small moan escaped your lips. He reveled in your orgasm. His cock leaked precum and twitched wildly. Nothing had ever gotten him this aroused.

He got up, dragging you head first to the edge of the bed, tilting your head back. He swiped his finger on your tongue, feeling the warmth of your mouth. He angled his cock to your lips and shoved himself down your throat.

He fucked your mouth aggressively, panting and swearing. You looked so pretty with his cock in your throat. He bucked his hips into your face, holding a hand to your neck, feeling his cock bulge in your throat.

He felt himself getting close, and pulled out. His breathing was ragged. He took a moment to collect himself before picking you up and laying you back down with your head on the pillow.

He climbed on top of you and kissed you deeply, hands fondling your breasts. He aligned his cock with your entrance and with a loud groan forced himself into you all the way to the hilt. The way your pussy gripped his cock was perfect.

-

Your eyes fluttered open, all you could see from the dim light of the bedside table lamp was a figure moving on top of you. As your eyes adjusted and you started to come back to reality it hit you just what was happening and who it was.

“FORD WHAT ARE YOU DOING?”

“Oh, you’re awake. I’m sorry but you passed out and you just looked so perfect that I had to have you.”

You desperately tried to free yourself from underneath him, you clawed at his arms. He took your wrists in his hands and pinned them down above your head.

“Don’t- ah, don’t struggle. I promise I’ll make you feel good.”

“Ford, stop. Please.” You cried.

“I can’t, nngh, you feel too good.”

He fucked you hard, pumping his thick cock into you. The slick, wet sounds filling the room. He forced his lips on yours and moaned into your mouth, his tongue shoving its way to the back of your throat.

You wrestled yourself out of his grip and pushed him off of you. You scrambled off of the bed and ran for your life for the door, but Ford was faster. He tackled you and pinned you to the floor.

“Baby please don’t make this, ugh, harder than it has to be.” He whispered into your ear as you fought back against him.

He pulled you to your feet and shoved you back down on the bed, pinning your wrists once more. He was going to finish what he started. He violently forced himself into you again, his rhythm punishing. He groaned loudly and bit your neck, you whimpered. His cock twitching at the noise.

He stopped for a second, reaching into the bedside drawer and pulled out a pair of handcuffs that he had stolen off a cop during a night of possession by Bill. He cuffed your hands above your head. His hand now free to travel south, making its way to your clit. He drew circles with his fingers while continuing to brutally fuck you, causing your pussy clench around his cock. The pleasure was indescribable, god he loved it.

You tried to struggle again, but Ford held you down by the waist with his free hand. His breathing quickened, he was close, you were too. He pounded you into the mattress, the bed frame shaking.

“Fuck you’re gonna make me cum, I need you to cum around my cock.”

His fingers didn’t let up, you felt yourself getting closer to the edge. You bit into his into his shoulder and felt the skin break, the sickly metallic taste of blood flooding your mouth. That was enough to send Ford over, he cocked his head back and his moan echoed throughout the shack. You cried out as you came, tears welling in your eyes.

Ford shuddered and panted, he was spent. He rolled off of you and collapsed beside you. You laid there, shaking and crying. Ford took your face in his hand, wiping away the tears with his thumb.

“Shh shh shh, it’s okay, you’re okay.” He cooed. “Let me get those cuffs off of you.”

With a click of the little key your hands were released. You thought about using this as an opportunity to run, but you felt frozen. He kissed you lazily on your lips and neck, then he pulled you against his chest. His big calloused hands stroked your back. You felt strangely comforted, safe almost. You had always wanted this, to be wrapped in Ford’s arms.

Ford had desired you for so long, and now that he finally had you he wasn’t going to let you go.

[dovesdreaming]

Deadpools guide to keeping you alive

Summary: You have a habit of reminding everyone to take care of themselves, even though you often forget to do it for yourself. Wade, being Wade, notices, and in his own ridiculous yet sweet way, steps in to help you remember the little things.

Request

Masterlist

-

You sat on the couch, curled up with your phone, scrolling aimlessly through social media while Wade, in full Deadpool attire, was standing on the coffee table, striking ridiculous superhero poses for no apparent reason. He’d started doing it about ten minutes ago, just because he could. One hand on his hip, the other flexed, he looked like a cross between a professional wrestler and an action figure from the 90s. "Looking good, Wade” you said absently, not even glancing up from your screen. "Have you had any water today?". “Hydration is for the weak!" he declared, though he immediately reached for the water bottle you’d left on the coffee table and took a big gulp, mask and all. You weren’t entirely sure how it worked, but you’d stopped asking those kinds of questions a long time ago. You smiled at his antics and shifted, feeling a little light-headed, but brushed it off. It happened sometimes. Not a big deal. Wade, however, noticed the slight wobble in your movement. He paused mid-pose, tilting his head toward you. "Hey, babe, you okay? You look like you’re about to pass out faster than I can regenerate a new spleen”.

You waved him off, though your stomach growled quietly. "Yeah, I’m fine. Just haven’t eaten yet, I guess. No big deal”. Wade’s eyes widened beneath his mask, and he jumped off the coffee table with a surprisingly graceful landing. "Uh, what? You guess? You haven’t eaten yet?" He checked the clock on the wall. "It’s 4 PM. That's not 'yet,' that’s 'barely survived on air alone!”. You frowned, genuinely surprised by the time. You’d gotten up early that morning, thrown yourself into work, and totally lost track of everything else. Again. “Oh…” You blinked. “Right. Oops?”.

Wade crossed his arms and gave you a look you knew well, the ‘I’m about to be ridiculous but also right’ look. “Let me get this straight: you’ve reminded me, multiple times, to drink water today-thank you for that, by the way-but you forgot to eat?” You shrugged, trying to play it off, though the light-headedness was starting to catch up to you. “I get distracted, okay? I’ve got a lot going on in my head sometimes”. Wade didn’t argue with that. Instead, he sighed and sat down next to you, pulling you into his side. “Alright, here's the deal. You’re gonna sit right here, not move a muscle- except to blink, breathe, and keep that heart pumping I guess, and I’m gonna make you some food”.

You started to protest. “Wade, you don’t have to-“ But he was already up, bounding toward the kitchen with surprising energy for a guy who’d been play posing on a coffee table moments before. “I do have to! Because apparently, you’d forget your head if it wasn’t attached, and I can’t have that, babe. You’d look weird without it”. You chuckled as you watched him dig through the fridge, though there was a part of you that felt a little guilty. This wasn’t the first time you’d forgotten something important. Wade had found you passed out on the couch before because you’d stayed up working for nearly two days straight. And then there was the time you forgot to drink for an entire day while binge watching a new show. Wade had quickly gotten you a glass of whatever was closest whilst gently scolding you.

Still, despite your forgetfulness, you always made sure to look out for your friends. You’d tell Wade, and anyone else, to “drink more water!” or “take breaks!” but when it came to yourself, you… just forgot. It wasn’t on purpose. It was like your brain got too full, and the little things just slipped through the cracks. You were pulled out of your thoughts by the clatter of pots and pans in the kitchen. Wade was muttering to himself, something about "smoking chimichangas" and “how do normal people make sandwiches without a sword?” But a few minutes later, he returned with a plate in hand, two sandwiches that looked like they’d survived a battle, but were clearly made with love. “Behold!” Wade declared, placing the plate on your lap with a flourish. “A culinary masterpiece. You won’t find this in any Michelin-star restaurant, because they can’t handle the truth”.

You couldn’t help but smile. “Thanks, Wade. You didn’t have to, really”. “Of course I did” he said, sitting back down beside you, much more gently this time. “Somebody’s gotta make sure you remember to do basic human things, like eating and sleeping and not turning into a raisin from dehydration”. You took a bite of the sandwich, feeling instantly better. “It’s good” you said through a mouthful of food. “Of course it is. I’m Deadpool. I don’t make bad sandwiches” he replied, leaning in to nudge you with his elbow. “But seriously, you gotta start taking care of yourself. I mean, I can regenerate my liver if it gives out, but you? You get one shot at this whole ‘being alive’ thing”.

You swallowed and nodded, feeling a little sheepish. “I know, I just… I get so caught up in things, I forget”. Wade looked at you, and even through the mask, you could feel the softness in his gaze. He reached over, pulling you into a side hug. “You know what, babe? That’s what I’m here for. To remind you to do all that boring, vital stuff. You remind me to drink water, I remind you to, you know, live. We balance each other out”.

You rested your head on his shoulder, sandwich still in hand. “Yeah, I guess we do”. “And from now on” Wade said, his voice full of determination, “I’m going to make sure you never forget again. I’ll be your personal reminder system. Forget to eat? I’ll hand-feed you if I have to. Forget to sleep? I’ll tuck you in with my very own beddy-bye song. And forget to shower? Well, I’ll.. okay, I’ll just throw you in the shower with a loofah grenade”.

You laughed, the sound muffled by another bite of your sandwich. “I don’t know if I should be scared or touched by that”. “Touched” Wade said, pulling you closer. “Definitely touched. In the heart, not the weird way. Unless you want it to be the weird way. I’m flexible”. You smiled, warmth filling your chest. “Thanks, Wade”. “Don’t mention it, babe” he said softly. Then he looked down at you, his voice dropping to a playful whisper. “Now, finish that sandwich and then we’re going to bed. Not for the fun stuff, mind you, unless you’re into that, but because you need to sleep. Doctor Deadpool’s orders”. You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t deny the yawn that followed. “Fine, but only because Doctor Deadpool said so”. “That’s the spirit!” Wade cheered, and with a surprisingly gentle tug, he pulled you up off the couch and toward the bedroom, all while mumbling something about setting hydration alarms and taping snack bars to the walls as reminders.

And as you curled up in bed that night, Wade snuggled up next to you, you couldn’t help but feel grateful. Because even when you forgot to take care of yourself, Wade was always there to remind you, whether it was about drinking water, getting enough sleep, or just eating a simple sandwich.

And really, that was all you needed.

-

Thank you for reading!!

[icarusredwings]

It's Bed Time, Kiddo. Part 1/3

Writing this was kind of hard because imagining being tucked in by THE Wolverine is the safest feeling, and It makes me tired.

No tws!

Standing at the door with all of her things, Vanessa had a bitter sweet smile on her face as she saw how melted Wade was into his shoulder, clinging to him like wax that was still moveable but so warm and content where it was.

"Thanks again for coming on such short notice. And for the food.. how uhm.. How much do I owe you?" He says to her, very gently moving him to the other shoulder in order to grab his wallet.

She shook her head. "Nothin' just... take care of him. He deserves it."

"He does, doesn't he?" He muttered, running a hand over his back as he whined.

"Yeah.. Hey, uhm.. Logan?" She asks, tilting her head and took a breath after moving her weight to the other foot. He could already tell that she was nervous and now he was too. It's not that she wasn't nice and all. It's just.. He's tried being in the middle of stuff before. It never works out for him.. and he didn't want to ruin what they already had going on.

"Look, Vanessa I-"

"I want you to keep this.."

He blinks as she hands him the faded Spiderman sippy cup. Looking at it for a moment, he tried to process what this meant.

"But... this is yours?"

She nods. "I know. I want you to have it."

"...Why?"

Ness rolls her eyes with a sigh. Were all men this stupid?

"Because. He likes it. Just keep it okay? Besides, I'm going to buy some bluey one's soon so.. you know.."

He didn't connect it just yet but was starting to get there. "But.. This is his first cup.."

She nods again. "I know."

Just before Logan could understand, Wade whined something about his "Mommy cuppie" being his favorite.

"Yeah? I know honey. But now it's Kitty's cup. Okay? I uhm... I have work tomarrow. So.."

"Yeah..." He said this as if just now realizing that the transfer of his cup was more than just a cup. He didn't quite understand what exactly but knew that there was something definitely more than her deciding to gift him the old cup.

"Anyway.... Time to get this one to bed. See ya around, Vanessa?"

He asks, giving her a stern look as if threatening to break her skull in half if she was trying to leave him. The both of them. He wasn't ready to take sole responsibility for him, nor knew how to explain to him that Vanessa... left.

In the not so physical kind of way.

She let out a scoff of a chuckle. "Yeah. Just give me a call whenever. Okay? Bye bye baby." She says to Wade, kissing his limp hand.

As if hearing "Bye bye" woke him up, Wade sat up, gruggily and tired. "Noo... no no no noo nooo." He whined, his arms lazily reaching out for her to take him instead. She couldn't leave if he slept on top of her, right? That was his logic, anyway.

Snorting, Logan smiled, closing the door, rubbing his back, and kissing his head. "Oh yeess, yes yes yes yes yeess." He coes, having adored when Wade was like this. Sleepily babbling for Mommy and that he 'wasn't tired' despite both of his eyes struggling to stay open and his chin was leaning on his shoulder, starting to drool.

"Shhh. It's bedtime."

"Nnnoo... mommy.." He groaned, softly kicking his legs as if trying to squirm out of his grip.

"Mommy's going to bed, and you are too. You've had a rough day. Sleep all ya want, Kid."

"MmmMMmfh!!"

"Oh yeah?"

This was Wade's 'If my feet were touching the ground right now, I'd SO stomp my feet' grunt.

"Cranky little thing, ain't you?"

Taking him into the bedroom, he collected his stuffies, laying him down, and began to tuck them in with him the way he liked.

" 'm not liddle.." He mumbled.

"Oh, my mistake. What are you then? A big tough guy?" By now, He was just teasing him. It wasn't often he was so tired that he could treat him this way. It's taken him a bit to get used to the baby talk, but he had to admit it was kind of fun. To be able to tease him.

Wade was so tired that he shrugged.

And yeah, that sounded so messed up, teasing a guy who was just a kid right now, but to Logan, it felt.. natural. Because Wade wasn't a kid in the sense that he's said way worse things with that potty mouth of his, but because Wade kind of enjoyed a bit of fuss. A bit of play fighting. "For Funsies"

"Good night, Wade. Don't let the bedbugs bite." He tells him.

"Kitty.."

"Yeah, Bub?"

He pointed to his star night light.

"Oh, right." He bends down to click it on. "Better?"

No response but a snore. Logan can't help but smile and sigh heavily, beginning to quietly clean up the room of the cryaons and other toys out. He didn't need Althea tripping or dying because of a coloring book.

Finding that crumbled up paper from earlier, He glances back at him, watching as his chest and shoulders rose and fell with each deep breath through an open drooling mouth. God, he was so cute. How could anyone want to hurt him? He quite literally played himself to sleep.

Picking it up, he gently unfolds the crinkles, trying to make out what it said in the dark. Shaking his head, he put it in his pocket, putting everything away before leaving. After silently closing the door, he took out the paper again, curiosity killing the cat.

It said "I Kitty" with a heart made out of blood in the middle of the two words. He knew it was blood because the blood was coming down from a picture of a dead guy. On the drawing, too, was him in his suit, claws drawn and full cowl.

He chuckles, blushing some. Wade had made him extra buff in the picture. So buff that his biceps had biceps and in the other corner was wade in his own costume with big heart eyes.

Was this how he truly saw him? As such a powerful person to rely on? Someone to look at with massive pink heart-shaped eyes?

Coming into the kitchen, he pinned it to the fridge with a hello kitty magnet. "There.." now it was where it belonged. Stuck to the fridge for everyone to see instead of half ripped up on the dirty floor.

[dan-the-womans-blog]

Love “Shield of Silence” ❤️❤️ What about this time around Hotch need the rescue and they're in a relationship? Add anything you want. Tag me later. Thanks!! :)))

Title: "Tables Turned"

Part two for "shield of Silence"

(Aaron hotchnerr x fem!reader)

It had been a long case, the kind that seemed to stretch on forever with no clear answers. You and the team had been in Denver for almost a week now, chasing leads that seemed to go nowhere. Exhaustion clung to every agent like a second skin, and tempers were fraying at the edges. Still, you had a job to do, and as always, Aaron Hotchner was at the helm, holding everything together with his calm authority.

The only problem? Chief Jenny Montgomery.

From the moment you and Hotch had arrived at the local precinct, you could feel the Chief’s eyes lingering on him. At first, it was subtle—a little too much eye contact, a smile that lasted just a fraction longer than necessary. You didn’t think much of it, chalking it up to her trying to be friendly. But as the days wore on, her attention became impossible to ignore. She was practically hovering over Hotch at every opportunity, leaning in too close, her hand grazing his arm under the guise of handing him files. It was infuriating.

What made it worse was that Hotch, ever the professional, remained oblivious—or at least, he pretended to be. It was one of the things you loved most about him: his ability to keep his cool under pressure, always staying focused on the case. But this? This was testing your limits.

You’d been dating Aaron for nearly six months now. It had started slow, after that moment in the conference room when he confessed his feelings for you. But what you had was real, and it was strong. You’d been through a lot together, and the rest of the team knew about the relationship. They’d accepted it, even supported it—after all, they knew better than anyone how much Aaron needed someone to lean on after everything he’d been through.

But Jenny Montgomery didn’t seem to care. And you were not in the mood to play nice.

It was the third time that day that she’d sidled up to Hotch during a meeting, her body language screaming interest. You were across the room with Spencer and Rossi, trying to keep your attention on the case file in front of you, but your eyes kept drifting back to the two of them. Every time she laughed—loudly, unnecessarily—you felt your grip on your pen tighten.

Spencer glanced up at you, clearly noticing your growing tension. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” you muttered through gritted teeth, not taking your eyes off the pair. Hotch was standing there, arms crossed, looking as stoic as ever while Chief Montgomery laughed at something he’d said. But you knew him too well. You saw the slight tightening of his jaw, the way his eyes flickered with discomfort. He wasn’t enjoying this any more than you were.

You stood abruptly, unable to take it any longer. “Excuse me.”

You didn’t storm over—that wasn’t your style. But your footsteps were firm, your body language making it clear that you were not to be trifled with.

“—and I was just telling Agent Hotchner that we have this great little spot in town if he wanted to join me for—”

“That won’t be necessary,” you interrupted, your voice calm but laced with a steel edge. “Agent Hotchner already has plans.”

Montgomery’s eyes flickered with surprise, but she quickly recovered, giving you a tight smile. “Oh? I wasn’t aware.”

You smiled back, but it didn’t reach your eyes. “You are now.”

The tension in the room thickened, but you didn’t care. You weren’t going to stand by and let this woman flirt with your boyfriend right in front of you. Hotch shifted beside you, his lips twitching as if he was trying to suppress a smile. He hadn’t said a word, but you could tell he was enjoying this—probably far more than he should.

Montgomery’s smile faltered. “Well, I didn’t mean to intrude. I just thought—”

“You’ve been ‘just thinking’ all week,” you said, your voice still deceptively calm. “But let me make something clear: Aaron is taken. He’s with me. So, whatever little lunch date you had planned? Cancel it.”

The silence that followed was deafening. You could feel eyes on you—from your team, from the officers nearby. You didn’t care. Chief Montgomery stood frozen for a moment, clearly not used to being spoken to like that. She stammered something under her breath and walked away, her face flushed with embarrassment.

As soon as she was out of earshot, you let out a long breath, the adrenaline coursing through you. You half expected Hotch to give you a stern look, to remind you about professionalism and keeping your cool.

But instead, he laughed.

It started as a small chuckle, then grew into full-blown laughter—the kind that had him clutching his stomach, gasping for air as he tried and failed to compose himself. His face turned red, and the sound echoed through the precinct, drawing even more eyes in your direction.

You stared at him in disbelief. “Aaron, are you—”

He shook his head, still laughing too hard to speak. His laughter was so out of character that the entire team was gaping at him like he’d lost his mind. Even Spencer looked confused, his brows furrowed as if he were trying to solve a puzzle.

“Hotch?” Morgan ventured, his voice laced with amusement. “You good, man?”

Hotch wiped tears from his eyes, finally managing to catch his breath. “I’m fine,” he gasped, his voice still thick with laughter. “I just—oh, God—I’ve never seen you like that, Y/N. You—” He dissolved into laughter again, leaning against the nearest desk for support.

You couldn’t help but smile, even as you felt the heat rise in your cheeks. “You’re not mad?”

“Mad?” Hotch looked at you, his eyes sparkling with amusement. “Y/N, that was the most amazing thing I’ve ever seen. I’ve never seen anyone shut someone down like that.”

“I wasn’t going to stand there and let her flirt with you.”

“Clearly,” he said, still grinning. “And for the record, I would’ve turned her down myself if you hadn’t beaten me to it.”

You folded your arms, trying to hide your own amusement. “You didn’t exactly seem in a hurry to stop her.”

Hotch stepped closer, his smile softening as he reached out to brush a strand of hair behind your ear. “I didn’t need to. I knew you’d handle it.”

His touch sent a wave of warmth through you, and suddenly, the tension you’d been carrying all week melted away. “Next time, maybe I’ll let you handle it.”

He chuckled, his hand resting on the small of your back. “Deal.”

As he leaned in to kiss you, you heard Morgan’s voice in the background. “Okay, seriously, Hotch, what the hell just happened?”

You pulled back from the kiss, glancing over at the team. They were all staring, clearly still in shock at what had just transpired. Rossi had an amused smile on his face, and even JJ was shaking her head in disbelief.

“Long story,” you said with a grin. “But trust me, it was worth it.”

As you turned back to Hotch, you saw the love in his eyes—so much deeper than words could ever express. And you knew, without a doubt, that whatever challenges came your way, you and Aaron would face them together.

And if anyone ever crossed the line again, well… they’d better be ready for round two.

@pear-1206

[the-goo-goo-muck]

NOW PLAYING

CLUB: LEGAL ADVICE

Hiromi is just so overworked, & it's never as good when he's by himself, but you're so kind, of course you'll help him. . .

Starring: Hiromi Higuruma <3

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

You’d thought long & hard, of course, about what on earth “massage therapy” might mean. It’s the only note Shiu had left under Hiromi’s name, like an asshole. You had the idea to ask him what he meant, but there was no way you were gonna come crawling to him for sex advice, especially considering he’d probably left that note there to purposely confuse you. No, you’d have to figure this one out solo. It could mean a couple of things, but you’d decided on a hand job. Keep things simple, right? You had been worried about the time limit; Choso had reserved you for an hour, which had made you anxious, but time had flown by. You could milk a hand job for an hour, literally. But maybe Hiromi would be different than your previous encounter; maybe he’d walk right in & tell you exactly what he wanted. You sure hoped so. You’d make sure to make him tell you, regardless of whether or not he wanted to. 

You repressed a scoff when passing Toji on your way past the bar as he gave you his signature shit-eating grin. “Where you headed in such a hurry, doll?” he smiles, letting the beauty of it paint his features. Fuck, you think, if only he wasn’t so goddamn hot. But that’s not just it; Toji knows you well, too well, knows things about you that nobody else does, things you wish he didn’t know, things that drive you crazy. “Oh that’s right, you’re off to fuck one of Shiu’s clients.” You could hardly call them that. “Fuckin’ sorcerers. You’re wastin’ your time with them, sweet thing.”

“As opposed to spending it with you? No thanks. Besides, you only fuck free whores. You want a night with me, you better be ready to cough it up, & last I checked, you’re broke.” You breezed past him, but he caught your arm & murmured in your ear with that gravelly voice that sent vibrations straight down to your cunt, “Not broke enough for you, doll. Don’t worry, I’m coughing it up, alright.”

Okay? What the fuck was that supposed to mean? But you scampered away before you could dwell on it. Getting into any kind of relationship with Toji, even some janky friends-with-benefits, work/fuck buddies situationship was a terrible idea. What was worse than that, though? You didn’t want those things with Toji. . .you wouldn’t dare admit it to yourself, but you wanted something real. 

You shook your head vehemently, though there was no one around to see you do it. You had a job to do, a job you were rather excited about, & you weren’t gonna let Toji distract you from that.

Shiu—or rather one of his assistants—prepared a similar room for tonight; small, secluded, mostly dark with music playing faintly in the background, & a chair reserved for the night’s activities. When you thought about it, it was almost a little awkward. However, you had had the same thoughts about Choso last night & it had been anything but awkward for you. 

So you kept your cool when you heard the soft click of the door a couple moments later. You were already facing him, & you could’ve sworn he had almost reached out to. . .shake your hand? But pulled himself back quickly. “Hello. My name is Hiromi. I assume you’re. . .Sugar?” The false name was purely sinful spilling out of his mouth, but his face betrayed nothing, the picture of sheer innocence.

You took a couple of calculated steps back & he followed, legs bumping against the chair. “Sure am. Now I’ve got a couple questions for you, Hiromi. There weren’t very clear notes left on my agenda; so what is it that I can do for you?” 

He clears his throat, obviously a little embarrassed by the question, but he gains a bit of confidence, meeting your eyes, saying, “Want you to jerk me off.” Okay, maybe he doesn’t gain that much confidence because he all but whispers his request, his plea. 

“What was that, Hiromi?” He shivers at the name, the way your tongue caresses it. “You want me to what?”

His face is all red, his tongue is all tied, his fingers are fidgeting with themselves, & he can’t meet your eyes when he says again, “Want you to r-rub my cock, jerk me off.” 

“Don’t know why you’re so embarrassed, sweetheart. Acting like I don’t want to.” You smile at him, saccharine & teasing, excited for the half-baked plan already forming in your head. Oh yeah, you’re gonna jerk him off alright, jerk him off ‘til he can’t take it anymore. The clock was ticking, & you were chomping at the bit to get a taste. “Can I kiss you?”

He nods, but makes no move to reciprocate, not until you’re pressing your lips against his, running your palms against the nape of his neck, down his chest, moving to loosen his tie, slide of his suit coat, unbutton his pants, palm his already stiffening cock, & he’s groaning into your mouth. 

“Can’t jerk off yourself, Hiromi? Gotta have some stranger do it?” you mock, sucking his bottom lip in between your teeth, biting. 

“N-never feels as good, can’t make myself cum as hard,” he babbles, fast, hoping his answer will please you enough to continue palming his cock through his underwear. You push him down into the chair, taking your sweet time to slip down onto your knees. If you were gonna be on your knees, night after night, you were gonna have to make Shiu put a bed in one of these rooms; a chair & the just wasn’t gonna cut it. But you'd make it work for tonight. You'd make Hiromi work tonight.

"Aww, s'so sad, don't you ever get yourself off?" You pause at the waistband of his underwear, a silent request, & he slides them down eagerly, helping you in any way he can.

"N-not like this," he pants, excited & worn already, though nothing's really happened quite yet. His pants & boxers came off quickly, & you're salivating by the time they do. He's all pretty & hard for you, & his dick is huge; not a surprise by how large he'd looked through his boxers, but a little shocking nonetheless. He all but yelps when you fist him at the base of his cock, hard, pushing all the precum from his weeping tip.

"Your tip is so sensitive, huh?" you coo, pressing your thumb hard into his slit until he’s attempting to run away from the pleasure. His eyes lock on yours, his mouth agape. 

“S-so sensitive, feels so good,” he whines, hips jerking to meet the lazy thrusts of your hand. 

How is he going to crawl back home to his fist, or even a pocket pussy, each night after this? After the tips of your nails scratch against his foreskin, after you trace each individual vein up & then down, after you squeeze the base of his cock, after your ghost your fingertips over his taint, after your grip your hand against his meaty thigh, holding him down so he can’t escape the pleasure you’re so intent on giving him? 

"Does that feel good, Hiromi? You're so wet down here,” you tease. He groans at your words, too focused on cumming to think of any sort of response, teasing & snarky or not. 

"Fuck, w-wait, please," he cries, the muscles in his thighs flexing & shaking as he tried not to get lost in his own sensitivity. You were just jerking him so fast; Hiromi was a methodical man in every way possible, including when he masturbated. He thought waiting for the high, edging himself for as long as possible, made the experience more enjoyable, but you weren’t taking it slow by any means. This might be the fastest he’s ever been able to finish. 

"God your hand feels so good, s’good,” he’s slurring his words, groaning as you keep your attention on his red, leaky tip, rubbing your thumb against the soft skin just under the head of his cock. “Gonna cum, gonna make me cum too fast.” 

“You can come, honey. Wanna make you cum, for me, please?”you encouraged,  & he’s shooting white, hot spurts of seed in your grasp before you even finish your sentence. 

Wow, he thinks to himself. I’ll definitely have to come back here again, see her again. The silly boy. . .he thinks you’re done. 

But you start stroking his softening cock again, bringing him back to attention disturbingly quickly. “H-hey wait, what’re you—what’re you doing? I just came, can’t—can’t come again!” But you ignore him because of course he can come again!

The sinful squelch echoes in his ears, his poor leaky cock is red & overstimulated & your hands aren’t helping;; if you didn’t stop, slow down soon, he was going to blow his load again, for the second time so quickly. helping echoing in his ears did very little to help him from blowing his load for the second time in five minutes. Your pretty, delicate, perfect hands were furiously stroking his cock, both of them wrapped around his length while you jerked him off using a screwing, twisting motion that made his legs shake & jerk. You made sure to pay extra special attention to his tip, rubbing your fingers down his frenulum each time you stroked him, making his body jolt & writhe in your soft grip. He’s truly putty in your hands. 

He moans helplessly, trying to process the unimaginable pleasure. He doesn’t usually mix his pleasure with this kind of pain, so maybe that’s why he’s cumming again, vulnerable & unable to stop himself. 

“it’s so much, oh my god it’s too much—hnggghhh—”

But you don’t stop, & why isn’t his cock getting soft, why does it feel so good, how are making him feel this way, why aren’t you stopping. . .

He can’t figure out what to do with his hands; maybe if he thought about it a little harder he could figure it out, but he can’t seem to focus on anything but the painfully sweet sensation of your hands, your lips on the tip of his cock, your fingers squeezing his balls, his cum coating everything, the twitching of his dick. He’s pulling his own hair with them, running them down his unbuttoned dress shirt, gripping the chair ‘til his knuckles turn white, holding on to your wrists for dear life, which does little to cease your ministrations with his pathetically weak grip on them. 

“Feels good, honey?” & you’re a real minx for that; of course it feels good, too good. Your voice is syrupy sweet, only adding to the deep ache in his balls. 

“N-no, no, s’too much, gotta stop it, can’t take anymore, gonna cum again, cummin’” he whines so pitifully, he’s shaking his head furiously, unable to form something coherent to say to you, anything to explain how fucking good your milking him. 

& at his complaints of “too much,” you’re squeezing him tighter in your hand, speeding up your stroking, he’s bucking up into your grip, lost in the feeling of it, unable to control the movements of his hips, trying to escape the pleasure, but he wants it so bad. 

“Ngh–no, m’gonna cum if you keep doin’ that, can’t cum again, c-can’t!”

“Can’t you? Don’t you want to? M’supposed to be makin’ you feel good, Hiromi. Don’t you wanna feel good?” If he had the ability to, he’d get you back for that, but there’s not a single thought running through his mind except for “feels good, feels good, feels good.” 

He can’t respond, only nods his head vigorously. He was leaking so much it’s difficult to say whether or not he’s cumming again, his body jolting around, face permanently twisted in sheer pleasure, sweet dripping down his temples, blushy red cheeks that match his angry tip. He’s just so pretty. He was previously trying to hold back in an attempt to. . .what? Impress you? Regardless, any ability to hold back is long gone

He was close, closer than you thought he was, & you really are impressed when he cums again for the third time, releasing a long whine of pain as his cum shoots into your hands again. 

When his cum finally slows down, you bring your finger up to his slit & start tracing it, coaxing more cum out of him, & he’s crying & whimpering, begging you stop, cock jumping into your hold begging you to continue; he grabs your wrists, hard this time, stopping you completely. 

“Aww, you’re all done? Can’t go another round for me?” Those eyes, he thinks, those eyes are going to be the death of him, if your hands don’t kill him first.

Night 2, complete.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

PART 3: BUSINESSMAN | coming soon to a theatre near you <3

[cinnaleaf]

ESSENCE OF US - CH 5: DATE NIGHT*

Please read responsibly. This fic will get hot and heavy as the story progresses, 18+ only MDNI | READ CH 4 HERE | MASTERLIST | READ CH 6 HERE [soon]

summary: a fleeting encounter with a mysterious Trent leaves you wondering if fate is playing a bigger match. your paths continue to cross in unexpected places as the fragrances around you mirror the growing tension between you. maybe it's just a coincidence..or maybe its destiny in the making.

warnings: ANGST, SMUT, oral sex (female receiving), language, implied anxiety genre: fluff, angst, slow(ish) burn romance, slight smau wc: ~7.1k a/n: you asked for angst..i hope i delivered. please share your thoughts in my inbox!!

Enchantée(f)/Enchanté(m): 'nice to meet you' Rêveur: 'dreamer'

You stood in front of your mirror applying the final touch of gloss to your lips. Your nerves had been a mess all day and you were mentally spiraling, trying to convince yourself to chill out. It wasn't like it was your first time with Trent. You saw him plenty of times, but tonight felt different compared to the random run-ins and late nights. The anticipation of it all had your stomach doing somersaults.

Why am I so nervous? It’s just Trent. No big deal.

You took a deep breath, staring at your reflection like it was going to give you the answers to the superstorm brewing in your head. This date wasn't like all the other encounters where you ran into him. This date was planned. Intentional. Something about him putting in effort to plan all of it made things feel serious. 

“Okay..he's already seen me naked. It can't get any worse than that,” you said to your reflection, trying to hype yourself up. The pep talk wasn't really stopping your heart rate from skyrocketing though. 

Then you heard a knock. 

The kind of knock that makes your stomach lurch.

You took one glance at yourself in the mirror, trying to keep it together before you opened the door. He looked perfect as always. Honestly, he had no business looking that good. His gaze looked you over before settling on your face. “Damn..you look beautiful.”

“Thanks. You look good too...” you replied neutrally, trying to play it cool. It wasn't really working but it was worth a shot. He stepped closer, his eyes still scanning over you. “Nahh. You're showing out tonight Y/N. Look at you!” You laughed nervously, suddenly feeling self-conscious. “You've seen me before…”

“Not like this..I almost don’t want to go to the class,” he said softly, leaning in towards you. Before you could respond he kissed you. It was slow and deliberate, like he wanted to take his time to savour you. You almost forgot where you were for a second as you felt the warmth of his hand resting on your hip. When he pulled back, he smiled as he looked into your eyes. “Ready for tonight?”

You smiled, although your stomach was still doing somersaults. “Um y–yeah. I think so.”

“You sure? You look like you're about to faint,” he teased.

You rolled your eyes, trying not to laugh. “I'm not going to faint! This is just our first date. It feels weird.”

“Why is it weird?”

You shrugged, biting your bottom lip. “We've done everything but this. Just feels different, that’s all.” Trent chuckled as he brushed his thumb over the corner of your lips “Don't overthink it Y/N. We'll have fun.”

“Maybe..” you admitted. You definitely had a habit of overthinking and Trent was starting to clock it. He had a way of making you feel comfortable, but anxiety was always lurking in the background, waiting for the perfect moment to strike and mess with your head. 

“Y/N..” he said softly, “It's just us having a good time.” You nodded, trying to shake off your nerves. “Ugh. You're right..I'm being dumb.”

“You're not dumb. We’ll have a good time tonight,” he said while kissing your temple. Once you were in his car, his hand rested on your thigh as he drove to the cooking studio. “So..you gonna tell me if I get another date? Really trying to impress you here.” You burst out laughing, “The bar was low Trent..you already passed.” Trent joined in on your laughter, not offended in the slightest. “Low? Never that. I'm setting a standard.”

“Mhmm..we'll see.”

The city lights flickered by as he continued to drive. By the time you made it to the studio, your nerves had been replaced with excitement. The chef greeted both of you with a welcoming smile as she handed an apron to both of you. “Welcome, lovebirds! We're making a three course meal tonight. We’re starting with roasted bruschetta topped with heirloom tomatoes and fresh basil, followed by homemade pasta in a truffle sauce. And for dessert, a chocolate soufflé.”

Lovebirds?? 

The lighting in the cooking studio bathed the room as you and Trent tied your aprons. The space had a cozy and inviting feel to it while still being romantic. Every time Trent caught your eye, he looked at you like you were the most fascinating thing in the room. Your conversation with him flowed naturally as you began preparing the bruschetta. Trent grabbed a tomato, slicing it with more precision than you expected. Maybe he did know his way around the kitchen.

Trent leaned in closer to you as you started prepping the rest of the ingredients. “So how’d you end up in the perfume business? Love Notes..that’s all you?” You were a bit surprised by his curiosity as you glanced up at him. “Yep, it’s mine” you said, before placing an ingredient down. “I used to mix random things together when I was a kid. My parents would get so pissed off, so I would sneak around and do it while they were sleeping.”

Trent laughed, fascination displayed on his face. “So you turned that into perfume?”

“Eventually..” you said, smiling as you began to chiffonade the basil in front of you. “I studied chemistry in uni because I wanted to learn how to mix things professionally. I created a fragrance during my last year for fun..but it ended up getting some attention. Too much attention, actually.”

“It went viral or something?”

You shrugged, feeling shy now. “Sorta. A fragrance house offered to buy the formula from me. That's where I got the money to start Les Notes d'Amour.” Trent set his knife down, turning his attention to you fully. “So, you made a popular perfume and just..sold it to someone else?”

“Yeah, pretty much. I don't know if you've ever heard of it but it's called ‘Enchantée’. I thought I used too much tuberose but—” Trent stared at you for a minute with an unreadable expression as you continued to talk. Then he broke into the biggest smile you’d ever seen before cutting you off mid-sentence. “Enchanté! That's my mum's favorite perfume.”

“Wait..what?!”

“Yeah! She's been wearing it for a long time. That's wild..you made that??” he said, laughing softly. Your heart skipped a beat once you realized there was another layer of connection between the two of you. 

“Trent…are you being serious or are you fucking with me right now? Please.”

The universe sure had a funny way of circling back, always leading you right back to him. “I swear! She talks about it all the time. She never goes a day without it.”

What were the odds? First the train, the café, Paris, and now this. Insane.

“Small world, huh?” you whispered, nudging into him. He nodded, still grinning like he had won the lottery. “Just the universe and all its plot twists. It's been playing matchmaker from the start.” He was right. The idea of fate bringing you together felt more real with every moment you shared with him. You knew there was chemistry, but you never expected it to deepen in this way, it felt surreal. “So..after that I opened Love Notes..” you continued in a softer voice. “I started creating custom fragrances for brides and grooms, celebs, and I made signature collections. I want everyone to have something that’s made just for them.”

Trent reached over, brushing his hand over yours. “That's valid. I didn't know you were out here changing the game like that.” You smiled, feeling your heart race again. “I love it. It never feels like work to me.” You could see the admiration in Trent's eyes. He was taking in every word you said, every part of your journey, your world. “What about you?” you asked, shifting the focus to him. “I know footie is life or whatever, but what about your family? You seem close.”

You saw his expression soften when you mentioned his family. “Yeah, we're close. I've got two brothers who always have my back. We're tight.” You could hear the love in his voice as he continued to gush over his family. “That's so sweet,” you said, admiring how genuine he was being.

“Yeah, they're the reason I’m where I am. Couldn’t do it without ‘em.”

Before you could respond to him, he cupped your chin to tilt your face towards his. He searched your eyes before leaning in, giving you a slow and tender kiss. It felt like a quiet affirmation of the serendipity that seemed to weave your lives together in ways neither of you could fully understand at the moment. He gazed at you, looking like he was about to say something that would change everything.

“Maybe..” he began in a low voice. “Maybe we should stop pretending we're just—”

Your heart pounded, the anticipation pulling you closer as if the entire universe was holding its breath, waiting to hear what he wanted to say.

Was this it?

You felt that familiar tension you always felt with him—like right before lightning strikes. Just as his lips parted to speak again, the chef's voice cut through the silence like a bolt of lightning. 

“How's the bruschetta coming along over there, lovebirds?”

You and Trent jerked back, the spell between you breaking as you turned towards her. Trent was clearly thrown off and it was kind of funny. “Uh, right. The bruschetta,” he sounded like he was trying to shake off the intensity of the moment. You laughed, your tension easing once you saw the frustrated look in his eyes. He leaned into you, whispering in your ear. “I swear, worst timing ever.” You giggled, shaking your head. “The universe is just having a laugh at us, no?”

“Or keeping us on our toes,” he joked. “I guess it wants me to wait a little bit before I say what I really want to.” Whatever he was about to say wasn't forgotten...just postponed.

You both turned back to the partially assembled bruschetta, although his eyes were on you a lot more than they were on the tomatoes. Every time your hands brushed against his, you felt your skin tingle, reminding you of what almost happened. 

Eventually, you managed to pull it off pretty well. Sure, it was just toasted bread with toppings but it looked delicious. “See? I told you I knew how to cook,” Trent said with a smirk as he slid the bruschetta onto a plate. “Umm, let's not get carried away. All you did was chop some tomatoes and toast bread.” He nudged you with his shoulder lightly, “Ah, just wait til we get to a real challenge like the pasta.”

“Can't wait to see that disaster,” you teased, moving on to the next dish. The chef brought over a bowl of flour, eggs, and oil as she explained the technique of mixing it by hand. “Knead it just right. Don't be afraid to get messy, it's part of the fun!” You saw Trent's eyes light up as soon as the words 'messy' and 'fun' were mentioned. You were in danger, girl.

You made a well in the flour for the eggs as you followed the chef's instructions intently, but Trent was less focused on perfection. He dove straight into the flour, sending small flour cloud puffs into the air. “Slow down!” you shrieked, laughing as you tried to fix the pile of flour that was spilling over the counter. He grinned mischievously before grabbing a small handful of flour and tossed it in your direction. It hit you on the shoulder as a cloud of white dust settled on your outfit.

“Trent, I swear to god–”

He grabbed more flour before you were able to finish your sentence and flicked it at you. You grabbed a huge handful in retaliation, hitting his shirt, his hair, and half his face. “Oh, that's how it is?” he wiped some flour off his cheek, grinning like a kid in a candy store. You tried to dodge his next attempt but he was moving quicker than you were, setting off a flour warfare. Your face scrunched up, both of you laughing so hard you could barely breathe. “We have to clean this up later,” you warned. He stepped closer, dusting some flour off your shoulders. “Yeah, yeah I know.”

Unbeknownst to you, the chef had pulled out her phone and recorded the entire thing. “You two are too cute! Don’t mind me..just getting this for the ‘gram.” You hesitated for a second, wondering how this would look to everyone watching online. The thought of it made your anxiety start to creep in, but then you glanced at Trent. He looked absolutely ridiculous and had flour all over him, yet he was still grinning ear to ear. Suddenly, it didn’t feel like a big deal anymore. You were having the time of your life, and you didn’t care to think about the specifics of it at the time.

Eventually, you both managed to get back to the dough. Shared laughter filled the studio as you both struggled to knead the pasta into shape. You managed to pull it together before moving on to prepare the chocolate soufflé. There was no funny business this time, you both worked perfectly in sync before placing the soufflé in the oven. 

While the soufflé baked, you and Trent sat down at the table to enjoy the bruschetta and pasta. There were soft flickerings of candlelight which would have been romantic under most circumstances, but the fact that both of you were covered in flour made it feel like the goofiest thing ever. Trent’s shirt was basically covered and you had flour all over your face. You couldn’t stop the fit of giggles every time you looked at each other.

“This is a good look for us,” Trent said, chuckling as he wiped a bit of flour from your cheek. “Ready for me to post our masterpiece?” You hesitated for a second before smiling. The lightness of the evening still had you on cloud nine. “Yeah go ahead. It’s just a plate of pasta, right?” He pulled out his phone, snapping a picture of plated food on the table before posting it to his story. You weren't really in the shot. The only thing that could be seen was the tiniest sliver of hair in the frame, but the flour coated mess in the background was obvious. 

Just a harmless picture, you figured. There was no way the chef’s video would go viral. She wasn’t too well known, plus, the night had been too fun to worry about all the little details. It was just a plate of food, right? 

But then again… the internet was the internet.

In record time, your phone started pinging. Again…and then again. Frowning, you picked up your phone as the notifications came flooding in faster than you could process. Trent glanced over with his eyebrows raised in curiosity.

“All good?”

You swiped open Instagram, immediately noticing SpillTheBeansUK had already reposted Trent's story, along with the chef's video. The video featured you and Trent in a fit of laughter while covered in flour, and people were connecting the dots faster than you imagined:

@.SpillTheBeansUK 👀 Looks like TAA’s mystery girl @.yourusername strikes again! The flour fight, the looks, the vibes..this is more than just a date. When’s the wedding?

@.ChillOutMate its giving hard launch but im shy

@.TAA_Angel03 Girly you’re feeding MY MAN well so you’re good in my book. But Trent..please come home we can fix this baby

@.InTheStands92 T isn’t subtle with his story at all LOL. He may as well have tagged her

@.CuppaT66 Man tried so hard not to reveal and still failed lmao

@.Y2KBabe20 Is this a soft launch or hard launch? confused but INVESTED

@.TeamHardLaunch ok, fuck a soft launch.. when is the wedding

@.YNGotFansNow The chef really did us a solid here. We needed this update!! But the fact they still don’t follow each other is driving me mad 😩

@.YNperfume_fan I wonder what scent Y/N wore for this date night? Something gourmand to match the vibe I bet.

@.ConspiracyBabe they’re not gonna hard launch until Y/N’s new fragrance collection drops. She’s gonna tie it all together and Trent’s gonna promote it. This is all PR strategy. 👀

@.FootieStan08 I want to hate but the way they’re looking at each other in that video is so cute. Fuming tho 😤

@.GossipLuvr ‘The Wait’  a fragrance by Y/N. Notes of suspense and slow burn angst. 😂

@.YNPerfumeJunkie not me refreshing her website just in case a surprise perfume launch happens after this date night 😭

@.TeamYNOfficial liking the chef’s post and then posting his own like we can’t piece it all together. You’re so obvious T

@.LoyalTStan wait…someone said they’ve been married for a year but keeping it private. I saw it on a forum  👀 

@.GirlWhatLies A YEAR?? sis they’ve been publicly spotted together like 2 times. Where are you getting this info??! lmao wtf

You handed the phone to Trent, who couldn’t stop laughing as he scrolled through the comments. “Man, these people are wild.”

“Right?” you replied, still giggling. “They’re already planning our wedding and we haven’t even had dessert yet.”

“I guess we’ll have to tell them to RSVP at a later date...” You scrunched up your eyebrows, giving Trent a confused look. “Huh? What are you on about?”

“We can’t have people RSVPing to our wedding if we’re not official yet, right?” he said, with a smug smile. Your brain was struggling to catch up with what was happening. 

You blinked, completely taken aback as you realized. “Wait..are you asking me—”

Just as you were beginning to clarify—and possibly answer his question, a shrill, ear splitting beep filled the air followed by the blaring of a smoke alarm. You both whipped your heads toward the oven. 

*BEEP!

!BEEP*

*BEEP!

!BEEP*

“Oh! The soufflé!” you yelped, eyes wide with panic. Trent’s laughter erupted beside you, both of you jumped out of your chairs, scrambling towards a chaotic mess of flour and panic. You grabbed a towel, frantically waving it near the alarm as the smell of burnt chocolate filled the air. The noise was so loud and annoying you could barely think, let alone hear anyone over the noise.

“IT’S BURNT!” you yelled over the blaring alarm, waving the towel harder.

Trent, still chuckling, quickly grabbed oven mitts and yanked open the oven door. “YEAH, NO SHIT!” he shouted, barely containing his laughter.

The whole thing was hilarious, truly. There was flour still clinging to both of you while smoke billowed from the oven, the alarm was blaring like a screaming toddler, and your phone was still pinging with notifications. Throughout all the chaos, it felt like your body was pumped with pure adrenaline. You knew what you wanted to say, and you needed to say it now.

“YES!” you screamed at the top of your lungs, continuing to fan the towel wildly. “I’LL BE YOUR GIRLFRIEND!” 

Trent whipped his head around, a huge grin spread across his face but the noise was so deafening he clearly misheard you. “YEAH! WE’LL CLEAN THE OVEN AFTER THIS!”

You blinked, caught off guard by his response. “WHAT? NO!! I SAID I’LL BE YOUR GIRLFRIEND!”

Trent stared at you for a second as your words connected in his head, then he burst into hysterical laughter while taking the oven mitts off. “OHHHH! GIRLFRIEND, NOT OVEN! THAT MAKES SENSE!”

You were laughing too now, the absurdity of the situation hitting you all at once. “YES! YOUR GIRLFRIEND, SILLY!”

Without missing a beat, Trent crossed the smoky kitchen in a few quick steps and grabbed you by the waist, pulling you into a deep fiery kiss. The fire alarm was still blaring while the smell of burnt chocolate filled the room, but none of it mattered. His hands held you close, your flour covered fingers gripping the front of his shirt as you kissed him back with just as much urgency.

Somewhere in the background, the chef stood with her arms crossed, smiling like she witnessed the greatest love story she had ever seen. She made no move to stop the chaos. She just let it unfold like she knew this was exactly how it was supposed to happen.

When you finally broke the kiss, you were both breathless and laughing as you tried to catch your breath. The alarm continued to screech dramatically.

“WELL,” Trent yelled, still holding onto you, “THAT’S ONE WAY TO MAKE IT OFFICIAL!”

You laughed, pulling him closer. “DEFINITELY NOT WHAT I IMAGINED!”

He grinned, his voice teasing. “BUT YOU SAID YES! A WIN IS A WIN BABY!”

As the fire alarm finally died down, and the chef gave you both a thumbs-up from across the room and you knew one thing for sure: 

The whole situation was perfectly imperfect in the best way..and it was yours.

After helping the chef clean up the studio kitchen, you and Trent headed back to your apartment for some much needed alone time. Flour still clung to your clothes as you stepped inside, but Trent didn't seem to care. The moment he heard the door click, his hands found your waist to pull you close. The way he gripped you was so needy, like he had been waiting to have you alone all night. He wasted no time pulling you into a hungry kiss as his hands made their way down to knead your ass. 

“Shower?” you whispered against his lips, barely managing to pull away.

“I won’t say no to that,” he winked, clearly having more intentions than just a shower.

You both tossed your flour covered clothes aside quickly before stepping into the shower. The water cascaded over your skin as it washed away the remaining remnants of the chaotic date night. Trent's hands immediately found their place, cemented onto your hips to pull you close to him from behind. 

He murmured against your neck, "Y'know..I had a good time tonight.”

You turned your head as your breath caught slightly from his hands sliding up your sides, his fingers tracing the curves on your body. "Mmm, me too." His lips moved to your shoulder as you felt heat rush to your core. You tilted your head and rested it on his shoulder when his hands moved lower, teasing the skin above your thighs.

"Trent please.." you whimpered, voice filled with desperation. “I need you.” His fingers immediately found their way between your legs, slipping inside you in a slow and deliberate motion. You gasped, clutching his arm to steady yourself as he curled his fingers inside of you with the perfect rhythm.

“You like that?” Trent whispered against your ear in a low and erotic voice, clearly enjoying the way your body reacted to his fingers. You moaned softly, biting your lip as you nodded. “Y-yesss.” 

His other hand slid up to cup your breast, his thumb brushing over your nipple sending sparks of fire coursing through you. “You’re so wet for me, baby,” he said, moving his fingers faster and deeper. 

You moaned in response, your body arching into his touch as the water streamed over both of you. The tension in your core tightened and you could feel yourself teetering on the brink of seventh heaven. Just as you were getting close to falling over the edge, a sudden thought blared in your mind—the shop.

Your eyes flew open, a sudden panic rising in your chest. 

Fuck, did I turn off the equiptment?! 

Your mind started racing as the anxiety came in full throttle. You hated when this happened. Always thinking about the next thing, especially right now, frustrated the hell out of you. Trent felt your body tense up and his hand immediately froze in place. “Shit..did I hurt you? I'm sorry.”

“No, no,” you quickly reassured him. “I think I forgot to turn something off at Love Notes. I need to go check, like right now.”

Trent stared at you, looking like he was caught between desire and confusion. “Now???”

“Yes, now! I can’t leave it on overnight.” you said, pulling away as you stepped out to quickly dry off and get dressed. Trent sighed, running his hand over his neck. “Only you would remember that right now, Y/N.”

“Sorry,” you mouthed, feeling guilty for letting your mind ruin the moment.

By the time you arrived at Les Notes d'Amour it was late, really late. The streets were basically empty and the shop was dark with the exception of dim lighting that illuminated the displays. You headed straight back to where the equipment was, relief washing over you when you saw nothing had gone wrong. The machinery had been off the entire time. You took a deep breath, double checking everything again to make sure you weren’t losing your mind. Trent stood nearby, leaning on the doorframe and looking completely relaxed like always. “Better?”

“Much better. Thanks for coming with me” you smiled, feeling the weight lift off your shoulders.

“No problem..” he said, stepping closer. “now since we’re here..”

You raised your eyebrow, curious. “What??” 

He grinned, a familiar glint of mischief dancing in his eyes. “How about we make that aftershave we talked about?”

“Right now? You’re serious?”

“Yeah,” he said, leaning against the counter. “We’re already here anyway. Let's do it.”

You rolled your eyes playfully as you grabbed your perfume diary and some of your favorite oils. You immediately went into your element, gathering ingredients as Trent wandered around the shop. He occasionally picked up a bottle, sniffing it with curiosity.

“So..” he said, coming to stand next to you, “whatcha got?”

You explained the process as you went along, handing him different oils to smell. He made a funny face at some, but others seemed to catch his interest. You walked him through the idea of base notes, heart notes, and top notes. “I want something warm,” Trent said confidently. “Not too heavy, a little fresh.” You nodded, pulling together ingredients based on his preferences. “How about lavender? It's light and fresh. We can mix it with something like apple and spice for warmth.” While working, you mixed in a note of vanilla, cedar, and sandalwood to round the scent out—it was smooth yet bold as a testament to his calm confidence. While you were busy scribbling the formula down on a sticky note, Trent wandered over with a pen, flipping to a blank page in your notebook to write a note. 

He started doodling in soft strokes as he sketched a small eclipse. The delicate lines formed a shadow of the moon crossing in front of the sun. He hesitated for a second before writing the words that had been on his mind since Paris.

I want you for as long as the stars shine. - T

You were still mixing oils on the far end of the room looking like a mad scientist. He glanced over at you to make sure you were still distracted as he closed the notebook, hiding his little secret for you to find later. When you turned back around, Trent was leaning against the counter looking too innocent. You raised your eyebrow, knowing something was up. “What are you up to?”

“Nothing,” he said with a cheeky grin spreading across his face. “Just letting my girl work her magic.” You narrowed your eyes playfully, still smiling. “I know you’re up to no good..” You eyed him suspiciously but decided to let it slide. “Okay sneaky, what do you think of the scent?” Trent took a deep breath, taking in the warm fragrance.

“Oh nah..what is this..?” he yelped, pulling the bottle away from his face dramatically. Your heart sank for a millisecond before you saw the corners of his mouth twitching. He was just fucking with you.

“Stop fucking around,” you said, rolling you eyes. “You're the worst liar ever.”

He started cracking up before pulling you into a quick hug. “You got me. But nah..you did amazing. I love it.” You pulled away from him, crossing your arms as you pretended to be annoyed. In reality, you were loving the way he was hyping you up. “You're so annoying, I swear.”

“Yeah, a little bit,” he grinned, leaning in to kiss your cheek. “What are we going to name it?”

You paused, thinking for a moment before looking at the bottle. This part of the process was the most fun, naming your creation to describe the meaning beyond the bottle. “What about Rêveur?” you asked, the name rolling off your tongue easily. 

“What’s that?” he asked inquisitively. 

“Dreamer,” you replied with a soft smile. “It's perfect for you. You already made so many of your dreams come true.” Trent was silent but when he finally spoke, his voice lost its usual playfulness. “Hmm..Rêveur..” he repeated as he nodded. “I like that. Dreamer..yeah, that's perfect.”

As the name hung in the air, Trent set the bottle aside as his eyes darkened with admiration..and something more primal. You barely finished naming the scent before his arms were circling around your waist, his lips ghosting over your neck. “You're amazing, you know?” You opened your mouth to respond but your words were caught in your throat as his lips claimed yours in a hungry kiss. His hands roamed your body as he walked you backward until your body hit the display counter. Your perfume bottles rattled but you didn't care, all you could focus on was the heat pooling between your legs, the sensation of his touch, his lips moving from your mouth to your neck, then lower, lower...

“Trent..” you gasped, gripping the edge of the counter. He pulled back, dropping to his knees with confidence. “You made something for me, yeah? I think I need to reward you.”

Your pulse quickened as his hands slid up your thighs, pulling off the tiny shorts you had thrown on after your shower earlier. He hooked his fingers under your panties and dragged them down agonisingly slow before locking his eyes on yours, daring you to stop him.

You couldn't think clearly around this man, so there was no way you were stopping him. In fact, you needed him to keep going, and quickly.

“You deserve this,” he whispered as he kissed your inner thigh, sending a chill through you. His words made your breath hitch, but then his mouth was on you and you felt your whole world tilt. His tongue moved in perfect rhythm, flicking, teasing, and sucking until your knees buckled. You gripped the counter for support, gasping his name as he held you in place. Every stroke of his tongue brought you closer to ecstasy.

“F-fuck, that feels so good,” you could barely get the words out due to his tongue’s relentless assault on your pussy. He hummed against you and the vibrations had you seeing stars. His hands gripped your thighs tighter to hold you steady. You could feel the pressure twisting, tightening, building until you couldn't take it anymore. You were teetering on the edge of a devastatingly perfect orgasm as your body begged for release. He pulled back just enough to murmur against your skin, “Let go, baby. I wanna taste you when you cum.”

You arched your back against the counter, moaning his name as your orgasm tore through you like a wildfire. It was so intense that it was almost unbearable, but he didn't stop. His tongue was working you through the aftershocks to draw out every bit of pleasure until you were completely undone. When he finally pulled away, he rose to his feet with a cocky grin.

“Best aftershave I ever made,” you panted, trying to catch your breath.

Trent laughed, cupping your chin with his hands as he murmured against your lips, deep with affection. “Thank you.”

No. Thank YOU, you thought to yourself.

The way he looked at you made your heart race, but your mind started racing too as the warmth of the moment faded. A feeling of uneasiness stirred inside you. For a second you smiled at him, but the weight of everything you hadn't told him yet crept up and threatened to pull you down like a rip current. If you were going to have something real with him, you needed to be completely honest. He needed to know the truth. 

About you. About everything.

“Trent..” you began in a shaky voice. You pulled away, gesturing around the room. “This...all of this..is like my baby. It's the only thing I've ever truly had control over in my life.”

His brow furrowed, sensing the shift in your mood. “What do you mean?”

You ran a hand through your hair, sighing as you tried to find the right words. “I wasn't always like this. Successful, I mean. I almost lost all of it. Everything I built...all of this.” You gestured around the room again. “Because of him.”

“..Who?”

“My ex,” you spoke quietly, not wanting his name to linger on your tongue at all. “He was older..successful, charming..all of that. It was everything I thought I wanted, well–everything my parents wanted for me.” You swallowed thickly, the memories rushing back like ghosts haunting you.

“I thought the ups and downs were just a part of starting something new, y'know? I thought the struggles were normal but they weren't. He sabotaged me.” Trent's jaw clenched as he sat up straighter, turning his full attention to you. “He didn't want me to have something of my own,” you continued, your voice trembling. “He wanted a young trophy wife..someone he could parade around with at events. He seemed so established..so powerful. I guess I was drawn to that.”

Trent's hand tensed on your leg, “What did he do?”

The words started spilling out before you could stop them. “He fucked everything up. He stole some of my clients and pulled them into his failing business ventures. He shared ideas I was working on with competitors..he wanted to destroy me. He hated that I had ‘Love Notes’. He wanted me to feel like I needed him.” You paused as the bitter taste of the memory made your throat tight. “And I was so stupid..I stayed. Because my parents were so proud of me for being with him. They thought he was perfect. They wanted me to have this perfect life and if I walked away..I knew they'd be disappointed.”

He nodded, silently giving you more time to open up at your own pace.

You could feel tears welling up but you pushed them back. “I thought I had to keep up appearances because it was what everyone expected. Every day I stayed..I lost more of myself. My business was crumbling..my confidence didn't exist. And I didn't even realize it was because of him.” You paused, taking a deep breath. “It wasn't until Camille stepped in that I really started to see how fucked everything was. She saw right through him and hated him from the start…but she never pushed me. She just waited until I was ready.”

Trent looked at you with a mix of concern and admiration. He was being so patient with you. “Camille pulled every string she could to get me away from him. She cut off every business tie he had. Her family–they're connected in ways I don't even fully understand myself..but they made sure he wouldn't come near me again.” 

To be honest, they were the only reason your life wasn’t in shambles right now. 

“I owe her everything,” you admitted quietly. 

“Camille is a real one,” Trent said quietly, still taking in what you had just told him.

“Yeah, she is,” you agreed. “She warned me not to fall too fast for you but–” Trent's eyes softened as he pulled you into him. “I'm not him, Y/N. You don't have to worry about that. He sounds like a piece of shit.”

“I know..but it's hard,” you whispered, feeling the comfort of his words wash over you. “I have this fear that I'm not enough. Like–I'm going to mess everything up. And you're...you. You made all your dreams come true and I'm trying to keep my head above water half the time.”

Trent's thumb moved to your cheek, wiping away a tear that fell down. “Nah, it's not like that,” he said quietly. “I feel pressure constantly. Everyone expects me to win every match, be the best on and off the pitch. I feel like I'm not enough sometimes too.” You didn't really expect him to open up like this, at least not right now. You didn't know he felt the same kind of weight you carried. “You don't show it,” you muttered. "You always seem so confident like you have it all together.”

He smiled but there was a hint of sadness in his brown eyes. “Yeah, I'm good at hiding it. I have to be. Can't show your weakness when the whole world is watching.”

“I just don't want to lose myself,” you admitted in a small voice. “I can't go through that again.” Trent pulled you into a warm embrace to ground you. “I’m not going to hurt you Y/N. Just tell me what you need and I'll give it to you.”

“I want to believe that, but I'm scared of what it means to be with you. I'm scared of messing up and not being enough for you.” Trent kissed your cheek, continuing to hold you close to him. “You don't need to be perfect Y/N. I don't need that..I just need you.” For a moment, you stayed wrapped in his arms as the weight of what was said filled the room. “You won't lose yourself,” he whispered. “Not with me.”

Maybe Trent was right. You clawed your way out of hell a year and a half ago. Despite your short time together, he made you feel something no one else ever had, especially not your god awful ex. Trent wanted you to believe you deserved every little good thing coming your way. He wanted you to see yourself the way others did, and he wasn't going to stop until you finally saw it too.

The drive back to your place was quiet but not awkward; both of you needed a minute to process everything. Trent's hand rested on it's usual place–your thigh. Every once in a while he would give your leg a reassuring squeeze to remind you he was right there and not going anywhere. You glanced at him, noticing his brow was furrowed like he was deep in thought. He seemed like he was mulling over everything you told him and it made you feel vulnerable..but it felt safe. You were thankful you didn't have to speak right now, both of you just existing in comfortable silence together after a heavy conversation.

Meanwhile, Trent's brain was running a mile a minute. What you told him about your ex had him fuming, he couldn't believe someone would do that to you. He didn't show it though. He knew how evil some people could be, and the fact that someone nearly made you lose everything made his stomach turn. And then there was the pressure he knew all too well–the public eye. He was used to it, but the idea of you facing that kind of attention made him want to wrap you in bubble wrap. He was protective.. maybe more than he should have been, but it was clear he didn't want anyone to hurt you again..not even him.

“Are you okay?” you asked quietly, breaking the silence. He glanced at you with his hand still resting on your thigh. “Yeah, I'm just thinking.”

“Thinking about???”

“You,” he admitted in a soft voice. “You're strong for getting out of that mess and building a life for yourself.” You swallowed, throat tight with emotion. “But Camille, she–”

“Yeah, I know,” he cut you off gently. “You didn't let him win though, and that says a lot about who you are as a person.” You didn't know how to respond to his statement so you just nodded, feeling your chest warm up at his words.

As you stepped inside your apartment, the quietness of the night settled around you. Trent followed close behind, which made everything feel more secure. You turned to face him, feeling the weight of everything you shared earlier. “Tonight was a lot,” you said, giving him a tired smile. He nodded, stepping closer. “Yeah, maybe. But I'm glad you told me.” 

You sighed, feeling exhaustion hit you at once. “You needed to know.” His hands found your waist and pulled you into him, “I’m still not going anywhere, Y/N.” You rested your head against his chest, letting his heartbeat soothe your thoughts. “I'm so sleepy,” you muttered against his shirt. “Let's get some sleep then, yeah? It’s late,” he said softly, guiding you to the bed. 

Once you climbed in, you fell asleep nearly instantly as Trent wrapped his arm protectively around you. Your phones were still pinging with notifications, they never really stopped honestly. Trent glanced at the screen as more people pieced together your 'soft launch'—if you could even call it that. He smirked to himself, shaking his head at the chaos that ensued tonight. He reached over gently, grabbing both phones and put them on silent.

While the two of you rested, the world outside hadn't stopped. The internet sleuths were in full force, your phones pinging silently as notifications poured in. The aftermath of tonight's not-so-subtle soft launch had the internet working overtime, piecing together clues you didn't realize were even there.

@.TarotQueenMystic Just pulled some cards for Trent and Y/N: ‘The Lovers’, ‘The Tower’, and ‘Nine of Swords’. This connection is seriously intense but they're about to hit a turning point. ‘The Lovers’ card shows a true deep bond..but ‘The Tower’? That's a warning. Something is about to shake up their world for sure. ‘Nine of Swords’ shows some sleepless nights ahead. Things are definitely going to go up in smoke before they get better! Something or someone could bring it all down, but it’s all a part of the universe’s plan. Stay tuned 🔮✨

@.FanFicReality ngl it feels like we’re being edged bc wtf is this supposed to mean? hello???

@.premierleagueprincess i was today years old when i realised i need a tarot reader on speed dial for my ship omg!!

@.LFCQueen Not the tower card...ain’t that the one where everything goes to shit? 😳

@.soccerchicTX I knew something felt cosmic about them! The lovers card is fate babes. They’re endgame if they can get through this

@.TuberosaConspiracy Omg guys Y/N uses tuberose in almost every collection. It’s all about intense love and dangerous attraction. Coincidence? I think NOT!!!

@.ImTalkingToYouReaders Tuberose means WHAT?!! We’ve been sleeping on these perfume easter eggs!!

im glad y’all told me u wanted angst bc now i’m feeling a bit chaotic 🥳

thank you for reading! 💌

[amarayys]

DRDT episode 13 theory. So.

so i was meant to be making a general episode 13 analysis video. but um. i dont have the energy for that. so what am i gonna do instead? TALK ABOUT TERUKO try find out wtf david is doing in this scene

SO. time to find out what possibly the FRUITIEST look ever from david means!!! disclaimer:

I suck at theories. And formatting. Yipee.

I'm painfully unfunny so excuse any dumbass jokes i make.

I'm going to find any and all excuses to rant abt teruko. be prepared...............

4. I may repeat myself a lot. Forgive me if it sounds really repetative... :( 5. Any points surrounded by - these things - are just things that are unlikely, but I think should still be adressed.

So, the context of these images is Teruko revealing "her secret"; You're constantly blaming yourself for the death of your parents and siblings. It doesn't matter that it's not your fault, just that you didn't go with them.

(pls excuse the shitty quality.) She has to be either lying or MAYBE unsure about her secret. Here's why: 1. She had a conversation with Whit (and technically charles, but he was just listening in) about her family. She reveals that she's never known her parents and grew up in an orphanage. She did grow up with her biological brother, but he was adopted by another family when Teruko was five, and she says she doesn't remember him much.

2. The wording of the secret is quite specific - You're constantly blaming yourself for the death of your parents and siblings. Like I've mentioned, she's never known her parents. Even if she *somehow* knew they were dead, why would she blame herself for it? I could see it maybe working in some way, but the next bit disproves it - SIBLINGS. Teruko has only mentioned having one sibling, and this wording is plural. This secret cannot be hers, she only has one brother. - To add on to this

2.5. Maybe one could argue that siblings and parents could be her friends/people she considered family in the orphanage she grew up in. However, the specific wording of parents and siblings, instead of just using the word "family", makes me think otherwise. - Okay, so let's dissect what this means. - I think if maybe she was unaware/TRULY thought that this was her secret, the only point that would support it is 2.5. Maybe she considered people she grew up with in the orphanage her "parents" or siblings", but its just not very likely. While I wouldn't be surprised if Teruko blew up an orphanage or something (/hj) , I think it's a stretch to say this secret is referring to that. - With that out the way, we come to one conclusion - Teruko is lying about secret. "Amari, we know that already, can we move on??????????" yeah yeah whatever i may have just wanted to rant about teruko. MOVING ON. So, what is Teruko's secret? It's pretty wildly agreed upon that Teruko's secret is the one regarding the killing game, which David recieved - "How could I even select what secret to be your motive? Just about everything you've done in your life is worth killing for. The killing game is all your fault."

We think that this is Teruko's secret because: 1. She's the only one that fits it smh. /hj 2. The guy at the start of the prologue (who is probably xander but that is a WHOLE other theory you can find here ) mentions having to kill Teruko Tawaki (how DARE they) after talking about ending the killing game.

My interpretation of this is that Teruko is the reason the killing game is actually happening, though I doubt she's aware of this/the mastermind (or she could be, idk??). A really good theory that I feel explains what I mean by Teruko causing the KG but not being the mastermind is the time loop theory which is linked here. (accirax i love you for this theory /p) Obviously, this lines up with "The killing game is your fault." 3. David gives her THE LOOK right after she "admits" her secret, which sort of maybe kind of implies that he knows she's lying, which he does, since he has the secret. - As for the remaining secret: Xander's secret (which we assume min recieved) is the one Teruko claimed to have:

"You're constantly blaming yourself for the death of your parents and siblings. It doesn't matter that it's not your fault, just that you didn't go with them." Why do I think this? 1. In Xander's bonus video, it is VERY heavily implied that he has survivor's guilt as well as outright confirmed his family is dead. Go check it out for the full context.

2. Xander's secret message on the DRDT tumblr is the definition of survivors guilt. Really self explanatory, huh?

3. XANDER ACTUALLY HAS MORE THAN 1 FUCKING SIBLING. anyway. okay, this is getting a little confusing to remember, so here: Killing game: Teruko's secret, recieved by David. Survivor's guilt: Xander's secret, recieved by Min. (all remaining secrets remain the same.) MOTIVE

So, why would Teruko lie about her secret? I mean, shouldn't she just point it out? And why didn't David point it out? - 1. Teruko is aware that her secret is the killing game one and is lying because she's the mastermind or something. We see her thoughts, so I really doubt it. To further disprove this theory: Teruko has stated like 15 times (/ex) that she doesn't know which secret is hers, due to her having too many secrets. So, yeah, pretty unlikely she knows which secret's hers. Discard this theory. -

2. a) Teruko doesn't know her secret, but knows it's probably bad, and therefore doesn't want to share it, so she lied. Pretty straightforward, really. Now, for the theory that I think is most likely: 3. Teruko doesn't know which secret is hers, but she knows neither of her secrets are the ones left unrevealed. She knows somebody is lying about a secret - but she's come to the conclusion that secrets are irrelevant to the trial and murder, so she's lying about her secret to avoid everyone getting off track once again.

We know that's she's accidentally led the trial in the wrong direction twice now (motive secrets, time of murder) Also, this is the most in character.

As for David: A. David knows her secret, but keeps it hidden in order to cause distrust and just generally fuck Teruko over. He plans to reveal it either post trial or in a future daily life. B. David knows her secret, but earlier, he and Teruko made a pact to keep it hidden. However, since he's a little bitch boy (/j), he's going to reveal it anyway, either post trial or in a future daily life. - Just to add on to this point ^ - I know Teruko's protag and we see her thoughts and all, but Kaede happened, so I don't think this is out of the question. - I think the most likely combination is point 3. and point A. : Teruko's lying about her secret to avoid the trial heading off topic. David isn't calling her out because he wants to use it in the future to throw suspicion onto Teruko and cause havoc.

SO. Let's recap! Secrets: Teruko: "How could I even select what secret to be your motive? Just about everything you've done in your life is worth killing for. The killing game is all your fault." Received by David. Xander: "You're constantly blaming yourself for the death of your parents and siblings. It doesn't matter that it's not your fault, just that you didn't go with them." Received by Min. Rest remain the same as canon. Why can't Teruko's secret be about her family? 1. Teruko never knew her parents, and never mentions them being dead. 2. Teruko hasn't seen her brother since she was 5, and she never mentions him being dead, just adopted. 3. The wording of the secret refers to siblingS, which is plural. Teruko has only one sibling. 4. The secret fits Xander much better - His secret quote is the defintion of survivors guilt, and his bonus episode heavily implies he has survivors guilt, and it is confirmed his family died in the same bonus episode. Why is Teruko's secret about the killing game?

• The guy at the start of the prologue mentions having to kill Teruko Tawaki after talking about ending the killing game. This implies Teruko is the cause of the killing game, whether on purpose or not. Motive for lying: Teruko doesn't know which secret is hers, but she knows neither of her secrets are the ones left unrevealed. She knows somebody is lying about a secret - but she's come to the conclusion that secrets are irrelevant to the trial and murder, so she's lying about her secret to avoid everyone getting off track once again. David knows her secret, but keeps it hidden in order to use it in the future to turn everyone against Teruko and just generally cause distrust in the group. He plans to reveal it either post trial or in a future daily life. **btw, just a fun afterthought - i think either whit or charles will eventually point out the conversation regarding teruko's unbringing and how it contradicts her secret - and david will use that opportunity to reveal teruko's secret. ANDDDD that's it! feel free to correct/add on any points you'd like. this took AGES but i had so much fun!!! i love you drdt. (ESPECIALLY TERUKO.)

[zenixstime]

LN4 \ LANDO

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ Choir x Jock ‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊

Jock. That’s what Lando is. The Stereotypical, football player; cheerleading lover, nerd hating bully, Jock. Or, that’s what everyone thought.

You walk into your Choir Class as usual, always after 6th period P.E, surprisingly, not sweating, or stinking. Not like most people can relate.

You look around and see your usual classmates, the nerdy, bullied, classmates. You used to be embarrassed by them, embarrassed that you even knew them. You got over it by Junior year, you didn’t care that you fit in, you just wanted to have fun. You walk over to your usual section, Soprano. You like to think you’re pretty talented, that you’re good enough to be in advanced choir, which you have to audition for.

You grab your seat that’s stacked up on top of other chairs, setting it in your usual spot, and throwing your bag into the corner of the room. Sitting down in the chair, you check your phone for the time.

‘God, I wish this class started already.’ Thinking to yourself, wanting to get it over with. You enjoy singing, just not after doing Physical Activity.

Your friends sit next to you, though you don’t talk or interact with them, just listening in on the conversation and waiting for class to start.

Everyone’s already sat down, which is why you’re confused to see the class door open. ‘Is it Mr. Rodrigo?’ You think, but; you just saw him in the practice rooms, that don’t block sound very well. Squinting your eyes, since you don’t have the best vision, you see him. Lando. THE Lando Norris, walking into Choir. Your eyes widen ever so slightly, you look confused.

Turning over to your friends, you ask them “What is he doing here? I thought he had like, I don’t know, football or something.” Your tone raised just a bit, sounding confused as ever.

Lando walks over to Mr. Rodrigo and they exchange a few whispers, before he walks over to the guys section.

You and your friends exchange a few words before you focus on Mr. Rodrigo, as class is starting. You all start working on the song you’re going to perform at a concert for Halloween called ‘Fix You’ by Coldplay.

After class is done, you grab your bag and walk out, accidentally bumping into Lando. You squeeze your eyes and purse your lips together before relaxing your face and turning to him. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t looking where I was going.”

He looks down at you, his eyes not showing a hint of anger or frustration, if you look closely, it kind of looks like he’s.. smiling?

“It’s okay, just don’t do it next time.” He said, his British accent ringing through your ears like you’re hitting the triangle instrument. He walks off, his bag slinging over his left shoulder and the rest of it hanging down.

You look as confused as ever, muttering “what the fuck?” to yourself. You start walking out of class, not even thinking about it.

(Time skip because I don’t know what to say AHH I’m so sorry I know this is unprofessional 😓💔)

You’re laying in your bed, your room messy since you were having a breakdown this morning about not having the right clothes to wear. Scrolling through your phone, you get a notification on Instagram.

‘Landonorris has requested to follow you’

You raise an eyebrow in confusion, you accept the follow request and follow him back. Of course his account is public. You scroll through his account, looking at his photos. Football.. football.. family.. football.. family.. vacation.. typical.

You instantly get a messaged from him, you open it and see what it says.

’‘Hey:)’‘

You panic instantly, not knowing what to say. Lando is talking to YOU. You frantically try and figure something out to say.

’‘Hey?’‘ You curse yourself silently, thinking the message sounded WAY too rude. Can’t take it back, though.

’‘What’re you doing?’‘ He messaged, his bubble popping up almost instantly after you sent your message.

’‘Oh uhm, nothing. Just chilling in bed.., how about you?’‘ Was that too much information? FUCK.

’‘Oh, me too! I was just wondering if you had the link to the song we’ll be singing?’‘

’‘I do. Here. *Link*’‘ You send the link and figure he won’t say anything after that.

’‘Thank you, cutie. ;) ’‘

“CUTIE?! CUTTIEEEE?!! AM I DREAMING? WHATEVER. SHIT I left him on seen. He won’t think anything of it, right? He didn’t mean anything by it.. what the fuck.. I’m going to bed.”

You put your phone on your nightstand and charge it, putting on your alarm and closing your eyes, soon enough falling asleep.

(PART 2??)