#and i am wearing the same kind of hoodie

[microwave-core]

Every time I sit down to write... he haunts me...

Anyways, today's Leon headcanon is that I think he's scottish rather than british

[icewindandboringhorror]

Very strange outfit that is sort of like.. a mix of my current style (pattern mixing, pom poms, fun sandals) combined with how I dressed when I was like 10 years old. The stereotypical skelanimals hoodie vest and the skull t-shirt lol.. 

[burningcomputerpersona]

also how is it that spanish love songs has such good merch??? i don't think I've ever been to a show before where I had to struggle so hard to pick just one thing, like in a lot of cases there's only really one thing that appeals to me or I just get something bc i love the band and need to have them on me regardless of what the design looks like. but i was spending ages just staring at the merch stand trying to pick one out of alllll the things i wanted

[incognit0slut]

Crawling back to you

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

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

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

The guy whose heart you broke five years ago.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

So you ran away.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I always want to see you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I was,” he says softly.

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

“But now I don’t want to.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re even prettier than I remember.”

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

“Spencer. Don’t.”

“What?”

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

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

You cast him a wary glance. “Good.”

"What have you been up to?"

"Work."

"Anything new?"

"No."

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

You frown. “Huh?”

“Girlfriend?”

"Spencer."

"Are you seeing anyone?"

"Spencer."

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

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

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

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

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

“You look funny.”

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

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

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

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

"I ran through the sprinklers."

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

“You ran through the sprinklers? Alone?"

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

He wasn’t alone.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You reach for the bottle of wine instead.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Which isn’t necessary.”

“But appreciated, I hope.”

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

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

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

“Do you want anything to drink?”

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

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

“So, what do you want to talk about?”

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

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

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

“I remember."

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

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

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

"I really wanted kimchi."

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

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

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

“That you’re craving for Korean?”

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

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

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

He nods slowly. “I know.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I could never hate you."

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

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

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

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

“You know it’s never going to work.”

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

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

“How did we function?”

“Based on sex.”

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

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

“Why not?”

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

“Because the idea still terrifies you?”

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

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

"Oh I can name a few."

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

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

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

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

"You really think you can convince me?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You stop yourself from rolling your eyes.

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

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

“But what if it does?”

All you can do is stare at him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Can I kiss you?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He pauses for a moment. “Really?”

“If you want to.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You slowly meet his gaze. “I realize.”

“And you’re okay with that?”

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

"Maybe."

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

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

You reluctantly pull back. “Bedroom. Now.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He kisses the spot between your breasts.

“You’re always so pretty.”

He gives a soft peck just above your heart.

“So incredibly beautiful.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Then you’ll have me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your grip in his hair tightens.

“Spencer…”

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

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

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

“Do you still feel self-conscious now?”

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

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

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

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

“Even up to a thousand?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Wait."

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

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

Shit. Neither did you.

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

“I was too focused with you."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Pretty sure?”

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

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

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

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

Tap. Tap. Tap.

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

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

You wiggle your hips. “Hurry up.”

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

Your walls squeeze around him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do you think I can move?”

“Please.”

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

And truthfully, neither can you.

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

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

No more running away, you decide.

“Kiss me.”

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

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

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

“More,” you gasp between shallow breaths.

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

You whine in approval.

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

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

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

He’s more than happy to oblige.

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

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

You nod frantically. “Yes. Yes.”

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

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

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

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

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

You let out another laugh when he finally pulls away.

“What?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And that makes you what, exactly?”

“Essentially indispensable.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

You quickly turn over to the other side.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Until now, maybe.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But it's not your brother.

It's far worse.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your heart leaps into your throat.

“Shit.”

“I should have climbed out the window.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Please don’t be mad.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You clear your throat. “Last night.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s what I want.”

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

“In a good way?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You nod absentmindedly. “Sure.”

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

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

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

“It wasn’t.”

“Spencer, he held a gun.”

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

“You’re awfully optimistic about this.”

“He likes me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And what makes you so sure?”

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

“Because I’m your mushroom.”

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

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

And you don’t mind him keeping it.

[arcaneauthor]

Cute things Bang Chan does as your bf

Pairing: Bang Chan x Reader

Author’s note: Just something sweet and simple to get my creative writing juices flowing again. Lmk which member you’d like me to do next!

Warnings: none? Mentioned neck kiss, Just pure fluff really

Tags: established relationship, fluffity fluff, Chan being absolutely adorable bf material

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Pulls you into his lap while he works on music, head layed on your shoulder giving you periodic sweet neck kisses.

Always turns music on while the two of you cook cause he likes how intimate it feels to just laugh and dance around the kitchen with you

When you two go out he always either has ahold of your hand or guides you with a hand on your lower back especially in big crowds just to make sure your safe (also partly because he just likes having physical contact with you at anytime he can)

Back hugs 24/7. I mean he’s literally hanging off of you like a koala any chance he gets.

Will purposefully leave his hoodies lying around your place for you to find and wear, not to have some kind of stupid “claim” over you but just because he thinks you look extremely cute in his over sized clothes and plus he knows you like wearing them so

Has a secret little album of songs he’s made just for you (though his ears are bright red when he first shows them to you cause he’s afraid you’ll think it’s stupid or cringey)

Loves giving physical affection but if you give it to him it’s gonna embarrass the hell out of him. Not to say he doesn’t like it, he loves it, but we’re talking about face flaming, head ducked, face covered. Especially if it’s with other people around.

On the topic of physical affection, he will always either hold your hand or have a hand on your thigh while driving

This man can not take a compliment but he sure as heck can give one. he’s literally got something nice to say about you 24/7, no matter what. “You look really nice today” “Chris I’m literally still in my pajamas”

If you’re the same height or taller than him (which I am) he’ll constantly be joking around by getting on his tiptoes around you to make him the same height/taller. Especially in photos.

No matter how tired he is from work he’ll always make time for you. Whether that be planning elaborate dates or just taking the time to watch a movie with you. It doesn’t matter how big it is as long as you’re doing it together. “Chan it’s okay just go to sleep you’re tired.” “No no, I’m fine. I can make it through one movie” and then he ends up falling asleep before the movies even halfway finished

We all know Chris loves him some bracelets so he’s definitely buying you matching ones

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

End notes: I promise I’ll write an actual story one day lol

[earthtooz]

fluff, apologising and making up after a 'fight' kind of drabble bc i miss suna <3

suna rintarou shows up to your university on the third day of the silent treatment.

the sight is a surprise, to say the least. your pro-volleyball player boyfriend standing outside your faculty’s building with his hands in his pockets, blending in with baggy jeans, a hoodie, and a cap. he looks the part of a university student, but you could never be fooled, not when he's 6'3 with an equally admirable stature from exercising.

amongst the crowd of outflowing students, the dark-haired spots you, olive eyes widening upon seeing you. he pushes himself onto two feet before walking over to where you stay rooted, dodging the students who just came out of the same lecture.

“hi,” suna greets, stopping just a few feet away from you. the sight of his lopsided smile is enough to get your heart racing again. you've missed him so much.

regardless, you cross your arms to keep up an angry front, not wanting to give in to his charms just yet no matter how good he may he at using them. 

“what are you doing here?” you ask bluntly, betraying the butterflies in your stomach.

his expression doesn’t falter at your iciness. “not happy to see me?”

you are happy to see him, very much so, especially when he has taken the initiative of literally showing up at your campus and waiting for your classes to be over to see you. he must be tired from practice as well and you know too well that mondays were never kind to him. 

so the fact that suna came all this way for you makes you feel a little special. 

he’s even wearing some of that cologne that you really like and unless it’s for special occasions, you know that your boyfriend is never bothered enough to wear any fragrance. he is so sly that you could kiss him.

“not particularly, suna.” you say in response, lying through your teeth.

suna clutches his chest like he’s been shot, making a gasp of offence at your statement. “babe, after i came all the way to campus? i thought i’d never want to come back here but i made some exceptions for the love of my life and this is what i get in return?” 

“suck it up, i guess.”

“-and who on earth is suna? never heard of him. can’t believe you’ve already forgotten my name after three days, i’m losing sight of reality, babe hold me, i might faint.”

“whatever,” you chuckle a little at his antics, eyes softening with a certain fondness that suna doesn’t miss. his lips twitch upwards at the sight of it.

this is his chance to win you back. he throws his line in in hopes of catching you hook and sinker. 

“let’s go to dinner tonight,” he offers, recovering from his previously downed position, voice contrastingly soft and gentle to smoothen his proposal. 

“what, so you can stand me up again?” you quip, instantly slicing the atmosphere to turn tense as the line snaps in half.

suna’s grin falls, morphing into a guilty frown. “c’mon pretty, that’s mean. you know how sorry i am, i didn’t mean to forget about our plans.”

you huff, letting your arms fall back to your sides. “i know, i know, but you standing me up just stung. it was frustrating because i made time for us that i could have used to study with instead,” you confess. “you know how stressed i’ve been with finals.”

the athlete stuffs his hands into his pockets awkwardly. “but i’m trying to make up for it.” 

“i know and i appreciate it, but now’s not a good time. i’m sorry but i can’t go to dinner tonight or any time soon, i have a bunch of practice tests to do that i can’t keep putting off.”

“then can i come over?” asks suna, a hopeful lilt to his voice.

“and watch me study? do you really want that?”

“i just want to be with you, i can order us takeout or something- on me.”

“guess i’m just irresistible, huh?”

“duh, do you know how much i suffered during the weekend? missed you so much, practically died from boredom.”

“oh so i’m just another person for you to bother? is that how it is?” you ask, unable to contain your smile. 

the dark-haired scoffs. “c’mon babes, you know you’re better than that. you’re the only person i can bother.”

“oh fuck off,” you whack his shoulder teasingly. “also for your information, you’re not coming between me and my education.”

“ambitious people are a turn-on,” he mutters with a shrug before pulling you in to kiss your cheek.

“ew get off me, freak,” you joke whilst shoving him, not rough enough to actually create distance but suna still stands his ground from the force. his hand goes to hold your other cheek as he smothers you with over-exaggerated affection. 

you laugh in his hold, holding on to his wrists for balance. “suna!” you yelp when he pushes too much weight onto you, causing the two of you to stumble sideways. “actually get off me.”

“can’t. won’t. don’t want to. this is what you get for not responding to me all weekend- what does  a man need to do to get a text back from the love of his life?” 

“easy. be a man.” you step out of his grasp with a satisfied smirk, beginning to walk away from your boyfriend who stares at you with his mouth hung open in disbelief. inevitably, suna runs up to you.

and as he encases you with his arms in the middle of the empty gardens of your university faculty, you know that the two of you will be okay. even if suna is the bane of your existence, there is no one else for you like him. 

© EARTHTOOZ 2023, do not steal, translate, repost my fics and do not recommend my fics onto any other site.

[raisethe-velvet]

here’s a jun. i might finish this someday maybe. maybe

[cherryredcheol]

matchy-matchy

tldr: match with me? a/n: i am embarrassed to admit how long it took me to come up with each of these

ot13 x reader

seungcheol: bracelets

except its one of those welded-on bracelets that you can only get off with some kind of tool that can cut through chain. he wanted you both to be reminded every day that your love was strong, unbreakable, permanent. the chain was dainty on both your wrists, barely noticeable, but still ever-present. ever the possessive guy, he liked having his mark on you. and he supposed a bracelet would do for now; until he gave you his last name. 

jeonghan: lego figurines

they’re minifigs and he had them custom-made to look like you, favorite outfits and everything. they’re on a little shelf that’s mounted to the wall. below the shelf are two little hooks, one for your keys and one for his. your keys go underneath your figure and his under his own. these minifigs were a gift for you very early on in the relationship. they’ve moved all over with you and now they’re part of your shared home. 

joshua: luggage

he brings you everywhere with him so it makes sense that your bags all match so you don’t draw suspicion. so what if he was pictured with a suitcase that has a my melody plush keychain on it? he’s man enough to admit he likes my melody, but really he likes you more and it’s easier that everything look the same. he doesn’t even have to think about it when grabbing a bag from the closet for each of you before heading on your next adventure together. 

junhui: ramen bowls

yes, you could hypothetically use this bowl for something other than ramen, but that would make it not special anymore and that just won’t do. it tickles both of you to no end to pull those bowls down from the cabinet and rifle through the silverware drawer for the matching chopsticks, all items printed with a delicate cherry blossom pattern. when the bowls were purchased the intention wasn’t even for them to become the bowls you use but its too late to look back now. 

soonyoung: water bottles

he dances and works out a lot, therefore he drinks a lot of water. he was going through plastic bottles of water like nobody’s business so you convinced him to get a reusable one. so he did, and he got you one to match! yours is black, inconspicuous. his is bright orange. the reasoning? they’re tiger colors, but subtle. why do you kind of agree with him?

wonwoo: phone wallpapers

they’re lowkey and you wouldn’t know they’re matching unless you saw them both side by side and noticed that the street light in both photos looks a little similar…the pictures are always from the walks you two go on in the middle of the night when it can be just you and him without the pressures of his career. some of your best moments together have come from those nights and the pictures are reminders of that. 

jihoon: slippers

the universe factory is cold, always. and yes, you keep an extra cozy blanket and hoodie in there but sometimes your feet get cold and your socks just aren’t enough. he must’ve noticed because there were suddenly two pairs of slippers by the door one day. when you asked about them, he just gestured vaguely and mumbled something about your feet. you’ll take it! they’re also not matching so much as they’re exactly the same. he claims this is for efficiency so he can wear either pair. cool, dude!

seokmin: sneakers

he has a lot of shoes. but his favorite pair are the ones that you bought together. they’re your favorite color and you each have a pair. you wear them together often, so smitten with each other it’s sickening. he always brings these sneakers on tour with him, whether you come too or not. its a win-win for him either way. he gets to match you from a close distance or from across the world. at least he knows he’s yours. 

mingyu: sunglasses

multiple pairs. every pair he buys himself, he also buys one for you. they're his favorite accessory and he looks oh so handsome in them so you never complain. your collection is slowly getting smaller though because he tends to break or lose things (sometimes both) and if it's a pair he really loved, he’ll ask with big puppy eyes if he can have the pair he bought for you. sometimes you tell him no just to see him pout.

minghao: manicures

oh, you’re going to get your nails done? he’s coming with, and paying. they don’t even have to be the same design or anything, they just have to go together. you don’t want a super complicated design like him? okay, cool. just get the same color. you went without him? fine, but what color is on your nails? it has to be the exact same as yours or else it doesn’t count. the colors may look similar but they’re not exactly the same polish? you might as well break up. 

seungkwan: phone cases

the design you chose has a little inside joke meaning to the two of you. no one even bothers asking the meaning behind the joke because they ‘wouldn’t get it’. your phone also has a different pc of him in it weekly (he changes it based on his mood) so your coworkers think you’re a super fan with your matching phone case and pc, obsessed with the idol on your phone. little do they know…

hansol: keychains

you have a miffy one, it's fuzzy.  he has a darth vader one, it’s lego. it kind of just appeared on your keychain one day and when you mentioned it to him he casually explained he put it there the other week. he fished through his pocket to show you his matching (?) keychain. the only explanation he gives? ‘it’s totally us,’ and how could you argue with that?

chan: stuffed animals

they’re dinosaurs, not dragons, thank you very much. and yes, they are therapeutically weighted to ease anxiety when placed on the chest. have a problem with that? i didn’t think so. these things go everywhere with you. if a car ride is longer than an hour, your green dinosaur is guaranteed to be there. he’s flying to tokyo? not without his passport and his little pink friend. show some respect! these are your kids!

[ohmerricat]

another really well-designed visual storytelling element of dot and bubble is the decision to have the fifteenth doctor star in it wearing his “doctoriest” costume yet. doctor outfits vary, of course, but a unifying trait is some kind of suit/smart-casual style and long jacket — subverted in many cases, obviously, but even thirteen wears the long hoodie and suspenders, and twelve’s punk fits still follow roughly the same template, nine has his leather jacket doing the job — whereas fifteen has most noticeably stepped outside that mold for the past few episodes, starting with the kilt and open-shouldered vest (!) in TCORR, then the t-shirts and, in general, far less rigidity.

but in Dot and Bubble, you take one look at this man and know: he’s the Doctor. which is why it creates such a powerful feeling of juxtaposition — all this ‘Doctor-aura’ posturing that usually works on side characters straight away completely fails to have any kind of effect in the face of unabashed, impenetrable bigotry. the clothing is a kind of uniform, it provides reassurance that this man *is* the doctor, that he’s come to rescue you, that he’s the same person he’s always been. but not to the residents of finetime.

since time immemorial (the second doctor’s era, but maybe even earlier, i haven’t seen much hartnell so correct me if i’m wrong) the doctor’s been asked — “why am i talking to you, why am i telling you my secrets?” and he’s always replied that he has a “face you can trust”. it’s time lord magnetism. people are naturally drawn to him. he commands a room. people begin to follow his orders because they know on some primal, innate, subconscious level that this entity is going to help them survive and make their existence better.

which is why it’s so jarring when they don’t. the racism, privilege and prejudice that clouds their eyes is genuinely so strong that it almost works like a perception filter, blocking out the doctor’s natural charisma, his bottomless kindness, all of the superhuman qualities that make him irresistible. they don’t see the charming 2000-year-old Time Lord from the planet Gallifrey that is going to “save their lives and everyone else’s”, long jacket fluttering out behind him as he runs, holding his hand outstretched like a beacon of hope. they see a Black man and nothing else, and that puts him beneath them no matter what he says, no matter what he does, how he proves that *he’s the Doctor*. to fascists, race stands above everything. you can be accomplished, talented, wise, clever, brilliant, but to them, the simple fact of the colour of your skin renders you unworthy. and that’s why they’re beyond saving.

[kisseobie]

jasmine

pairing: non idol jongseob x fem!reader

genre: fluff

a saccharine summer evening spent at your favorite nail parlor is so much sweeter when you’re accompanied by a boy made out of star-shaped tangerines 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞

tags: established relationship, reader is slightly anxious, the sweetest boyfie seob, reader is sooo girly, slightly suggestive if you squint, jongseob thinks ur the prettiest girl in the world, usage of petnames (baby, princess, etc..), yall are so in love it’s sick, no smut in this but mdni pls

a/n: haiii everyone ^_^ so i haven’t written self inserts in years but i desperately crave more jongseob fics (as u can see from my last post lol) sooooo here i am!! this is very self indulgent but if i like how this goes i mighttttt start taking piwon requests :p please be kind as i haven’t written in a veryyyy long time… anyways enjoy 𓇼⋆｡˚

listening to: jasmine - dpr live ♪

“they have to soak off my previous set before they get started so you really don’t have to stay with me here if you don’t want to seob.. it’s gonna be 2 hours at least.”

you shyly inform him as you begin to retrieve your phone from your back pocket to search for your appointment confirmation email as the pair of you come to a gentle halt in front of the entrance of your favorite nail salon. you pause before entering, turning to face towards him as the salty breeze of the nearby boardwalk cards through jongseob’s copper colored hair, a sight that makes you swoon. “you sure you won’t be bored?” you ask shyly, and jongseob gives you a toothy grin in return, eyes crinkling softly as he tilts his head towards the sliding doors of the salon, a sweet and silent reply to your hesitance that speaks, “i’m never bored when i’m with you”. he slowly lifts his hand to tuck a stray piece of hair behind your ear and kisses your cheek, all whilst interlacing his fingers with your slightly smaller ones as you both make your way into the salon.

you somehow find yourself falling deeper and deeper in love with him.

it’s been just short of a year since kim jongseob first approached you, fidgeting with the fabric of his favorite hoodie and swaying back and forth on his heels to ease his nerves as he asked you for your number. the sweet boy expected for you to kindly let him down (partly because you had never spoken to him a day in your life, and partly because of the gorillaz logo on his apparel), but to his astonishment, you simply punched your number into his keypad, and one text reading: “hi :)” led to a plethora of late night conversations, hushed giggles shared in his bedroom, and coffee flavored kisses in the mornings (much to his roomates’ dismay).

he’s wearing that same hoodie this evening too.

the domesticity of your blooming relationship is new, but never unwelcome, so it didn’t surprise you when he asked to accompany you when you were cuddled up with him a few nights ago, haphazardly mentioning that you were planning to get a new set of acrylics soon. seob had been paying for your previous sets despite your constant disapproval, but this was his first time going with you to a booking, and it felt oddly intimate, like you were starting to enter a more serious stage of your relationship.

jongseob’s reassurance allows you to let go of your irrational fear of him dying of boredom during your appointment, and with that, you two carry onto your seven o’clock session.

“girl, that’s your man? that’s the one you were telling me about?”

are the first words that leave your nail tech’s lips as as you settle down into her usual station, setting your purse to the side, straightening your jean skirt, and adjusting your bra strap as you question the surprise written all over her face. you had spent countless of sessions with her discussing your relationship with jongseob, her even being there for the details of your distant crush on him prior to you being asked out. always the persistent type, she had been practically begging for you to bring him around these last few appointments, mentioning something about “taking a good look” at the boy who had swiftly stolen your heart.

your tech must have noticed the slight blush of embarrassment appearing on your cheeks, because she jumped to clarifying her previous statement with, “i don’t mean that in a bad way babe! he’s definitely very attractive, i was just surprised you were so shy in approaching him is all.” at these words you tilted your head a bit, only more confused about the implications of what she was attempting to tell you.

“y/n, he was staring at you the entire time you were checking in like he’d hang the stars and moon for you if you’d ask. he had that dopey lovesick look and everything. he’s obviously smitten, you have literally nothing to worry about.” she relays to you with amusement as she dips your fingertips in acetone.

you let out a deep breath you didn’t know you were holding in and quietly giggle. “really? okay i’m really glad you said that, he’s been so sweet to pay for all of my sets without me even asking him to and i was just so worried that he’d hate me forever if he got bored sitting here. i think i’m just not used to doing simple chores with him rather than elaborately planned dates” you whisper to her. you then take a peek at your boyfriend’s comfortable form lounging on one of the hot pink seats of the salon, his nintendo switch clad in one hand, and his cheek pressing against the other. you notice he only has his left airpod in, just in case you needed to call for him. your heart melts at the sight, and you finally turn your full attention back to your tech, now removing your old set of nails.

as you wait patiently in your chair you begin to lightly sway your head to the song playing on a distant salon speaker, one that your boyfriend coincidentally has on repeat each time your with him nowadays. “it’s called jasmine, it reminds me of you.” is what you remember him telling you one morning, when you woke up for the first time in his bed, wired headphones connecting you both as the dpr live track overtook the cozy atmosphere.

every now and then you and seob glance at each other from across the salon, to which you both begin breaking out into big smiles and rosy cheeks. your nail technician carries on with replicating the reference nails you showed her to a T, but not without silently noting the heart eyes you and jongseob shoot at each other everytime your eyes happen to lock. this time, he mischievously motions for you to glance at your phone, a quiet “ding!” from your cell grasping both you and your tech’s attention.

[seobie ᥫ᭡]: you look so pretty right now baby, i’m so excited to feel your nails in my hair later lol

[seobie ᥫ᭡]: and maybe scratching my back too ;)

[seobie ᥫ᭡]: omg that was so embarrassing im so sorry please look away plead im so bad at this fuck

you look away from your screen embarrassingly fast, flustered and avoiding any eye contact with both your loser boyfriend (who is wallowing in his own embarrassment) and the woman now raising her eyebrows in front of you as she waits for your nails to cure under the uv lamp.

she is so making fun of you for that next time.

“andddd we’re done! just go wash your hands and your boyfriend can pay at the desk. he looks like he’s gonna flip if he isn’t holding you in some way in the next two minutes and i really don’t need to witness that.” she exclaims, not without exaggeratedly rolling her eyes and shaking her head.

you begin to fully assess your fresh new set of acrylics, now topped off with a sparkly clear coat. your nail tech even added some oil to your cuticles to try and make up for months of self-inflicted damage. after a minute of observing, you hum in approval, deducing happily that your boyfriend is going to love the colors you chose: tangerine with hints of cherry red to subtly match with his hair.

“perfect, just like always. thank you so much!” you say while handing her a generous tip, to which she holds out her hand in refusal and shakes her head. “no tip today, just go spend some time with him, i’m so happy for you y/n, seriously.” she replies kindly. you give her a hug to say thanks and tuck the cash back into your purse, turning and making your way towards the chair your boyfriend is currently occupying as he watches you with a warm smile, hands crossed in front of his chest as he holds back a laugh.

“what’s so funny?” you question as you approach him slowly.

“i called her beforehand and sent her a tip for you, i knew you were gonna try to pay somehow.” he giggles as he stands up. you scoff, but deep down you know you should have known he would outsmart you like this.

“i can’t believe you! i’ve told you a hundred times before that i don’t want you to spend your money on me!” you try to reason with him, to which he cuts your frustration off with a simple “who’s going to take care of you then, princess? now show me your nails!” he says as he hovers his hands in front of him, a signal for you to follow suit so he can observe the result of the previous two hours of work.

you decide to drop the subject for now and let excitement take over once again at his request, bouncing up and down whilst placing your hands atop of his palms, not allowing him to speak before you explain that “they match your hair, see? i asked her to do orange and red ombre!! and i know you love stars so i also asked her to add little golden star studs on my pinky nails! what do you think babe?” you half squeal out at him, clearly awaiting his approval.

“you did this for me?” he asks.

you deflate a little, dreading the small chance that your next words will result in an underwhleming reaction from him. “well yeah, sorry if it’s weird, i just wanted to do something nice since you offered to accompany me even though you would just be sitting in your chair for two hou—” he cuts off your anxious rambling with a strong kiss to your lips, followed by both of his palms covering the sides of your face to pull you impossibly closer. you gasp from the sudden movement, and just as you close your eyes to reciprocate, your boyfriend pulls back to show you the prettiest smile you have ever seen on his face.

“i guess you like them.” you sheepishly respond, holding back a smile equally as large.

he just replies by peppering your tanned skin with tangerine flavored kisses, each peck accompanied with the words “i love you, i love you so much”.

you and jongseob finally step out of the salon hand in hand, the cool air blowing onto your faces as you squeeze your interlocked fingers. jongseob presses on the pedestrian call button with one hand as you both anticipate the streetlamp to shift to green. you fill the comfortable silence with giggles and the occasional kiss to the cheek the entire commute to the subway, uncaring of prolonged glances from onlookers. words are only spoken an hour later when you’ve finally enter the warmth of his (and practically your) bedroom. jongseob turns towards you this time, clearly not as timid as he was hours before, smirking while pronouncing,

“in case you were still wondering, that offer from my text earlier still stands…”

it’s your turn to roll your eyes and shut him up, tugging him roughly towards you with the front of his stupid hoodie as your mouths connect with an urgency you’ve never felt before, the pair of you hurriedly falling on top of his bed as your nails make contact with his scalp.

𓇼⋆｡˚

in the quiet of the night, considered by some as early hours of the morning, jongseob holds your bare frame tightly against his own as he strokes his hand along your freckled back. your warm breaths tuck into the small crevices of his chest as your tangerine tinted nails draw hearts lightly into his skin, and with that, the two of you gradually lull into a peaceful slumber, but not before you look up at him and whisper,

“i did it for you.”

a/n: mwahahahahahahahaha it’s finally out.. thank u for being patient!! it was honestly so motivating to see that despite the fact that so many people had never read my writing before, their love for jongseob made them crave this fic soooo much LMFAOO we all are so down bad for this man it’s a bit insane. anyways like i said i haven’t written for years so this was short and a little choppy but i tried my best and hopefully i’ll get better with time ^_^ anyways i’ll be finishing up my next fic soon and then i’ll start working on requests!! thank u for reading, it means a lot to me <3

please do not repost my writing!

tags:

@chuuswifereal @angelcbf @lakoya @zendieya-8 @bambispostsblog @saturnh0ney @theyluvsosa @youresolivlie @woozixo @www90kitsch @sirenla @ihatewreckingballmains @curiousgworge @haileyyey @khfviq @highkeyadumbasslmao @lovebunnys-world @astro-doll-the-star @kyokopi @meowmeowjang @imma-penguin1 @sophia-is-tiny

ᥫ᭡

[junipernight]

I redesigned Yangchen's outfit!

... I actually designed a lot of outfits for her, because I am Extremely Normal about these books, and also I like costume design and learning about historical clothing.

Short disclaimer: These fantasy clothes aren't culturally or historically accurate, just historically and culturally influenced. I don't have any expertise in East or Central Asian culture or clothing, I've just been clicking around on the internet a lot the last two weeks learning things because that's my idea of fun lol. If you wanted to talk to people who actually know things you should check out @atlaculture or like @ziseviolet, both of whom's blogs I referenced while drawing.

I only designed two alternates for the outer robes. The first is based loosely off the robes Buddhist monks wear (loosely, because drawing draped fabric is hard ^^') especially the Tibetan zhen robe. This garment is just a long wide rectangle of cloth which can be draped across the body in lots of ways (versatility ftw!).

The other garment I drew is a Chuba, a traditional garment from Tibet and the Himalayas. It's a robe, but it highkey reminds me of kilts and hoodies, in that it a) can be worn over one or both shoulders or just as a skirt and b) it makes a giant pocket over the stomach. The long sleeves can be folded up or tied back btw.

I spent the most time on the middle layer, because I was thinking it has to be something she could comfortably fight in while also being suitable for diplomatic meetings, meditating, espionage, and possibly sleeping.

And like. You can fight and hike and whatnot in loose skirts, but it's annoying how twisted up they can get while sleeping. ALSO, YC does a lot of flying and leaping, so my girl needs pants. My faves are definitely the Xiaolin monk pants and the yellow wrap pants Aang wears. I tried dhoti (Indian wrap pants) because that kind of looks like what the giant statue of Yangchen meditating might be wearing, but I think it looks odd paired with a highwaisted shirt instead of a long tunic. Maybe I'll do some more drawings with her in a tunic and dhoti or a monk's dhonka and shemdap later, idk.

As any good historical fashion nerd knows, foundational garments are everything (◡‿◡✿).

But also, there's a scene where Yangchen and Kavik pretend to be lovers, and are "discovered" by a maid sleeping in the same room, with Yangchen in a state of partial undress (gasp!)

I am living for this fake drama; I need to know how scandalized the maid was lmao.

When the maid walks in, Yangchen immediately wraps herself in a bedsheet before ushering the maid back out the door. Maybe all she did was take off her outer robe... but why would she need to wrap herself in a sheet if she was wearing a long-sleeved high-necked gown? I got the sense from both the book and cursory research about buddhist monks that walking around without your outer robes was socially acceptable, at least in casual settings. I think it more likely she was in her underclothes, which historically (in the west anyway) would also double as sleeping clothes.

"The Aang" is censored because this is Tumblr-dot-com. Its mostly a joke, but also, I know other countries are less uptight about bººbies, so like, maybe it's a valid option ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

The ~Water Tribe~ look is based off Sokka's swimwear and not Katara's, mostly because chest binding seems antithetical to airbending.

All the other undergarment designs are based on hanfu neiyi, because that's what I could find reference photos and romanized names for.

I'm tired of typing now. Lemme know if you have questions about something, or want me to post a larger version of a specific outfit. I am open to feedback and tentatively open to requests.

[ataraxiaspainting]

Just the Way I Am.

Yan Yuji x F Reader x Yan Sukuna.

Synopsis: Yuji is like the sun. His cursed half is like the moon. Both of them hurt you, but in different ways, but neither of them will stop. That mere fact, in the end, hurts you more than if only Sukuna was around because sometimes you think of terrible things. Terrible things like wishing Yuji, who used to always be your ray of sunshine, never existed at all or would die a slow and painful death.

Warnings: Yandere themes, manipulation, unhealthy relationships, violence, and a not-so-healthy dash of not SFW and misogyny (from our dear Sukuna of course).

Word Count: 850.

*~*~*~*

Yuji was not wearing the clothes he usually wore. Instead of his favorite outfit which consisted of a scarlet hoodie and black sweatpants, he simply wore his briefs, sitting on the couch opposite to the bed you had slept in since the night before, loudly eating some beef jerky you and he had gotten from the convenience store yesterday. All the noise was the reason you had woken up in the first place. Choosing not to voice it, though, you attempted to go back to bed. Perhaps that was the wrong decision though, because as soon as you closed your eyes and turned to face the wall, you felt long nails grip at your shoulder, sinking deep enough to almost make you bleed. It was foolish of you to do such a thing, you realize because Yuji only bought the jerky for Sukuna.

Before you could turn around to greet him, the pain went further into your flesh, making you wince.

“Who taught you to be so rude, huh?” The voice was as cold as it always has been, being as much more gruff than Yuji’s ever could be. “Answer me.”

His breath was smokey from the beef jerky but also smelled like rotting food, the instant ramen Yuji made along with a boiled egg he swore was not too old to eat. You try your best not to gag as you start stuttering out an apology.

“N-No one…”

“Oh really?” The voice changed to that of a mockery of something tranquil, something kind. Something like Yuji’s voice. But instead of begging you to stay the night while claiming it was too dark out for a girl to be walking to her dorm room alone, it was speaking to you like you had just done something you were too dumb to realize was stupid. You suppose, in a way, that that is what you had done. 

You forgot the very first rule Sukuna had told you to never disobey when you had woken up screaming at the sight of something that looked sort of like Yuji but did not act like him at all, and now you are in for yet another trip to hell itself. 

“I told you I didn’t want another brat. I already deal with one as it is.” He lets go, and out of instinct to not get hurt more than you already will today, you turn around to face him. He looks down at you, his arms crossed and shaking his head in a mix of amusement and disappointment. “You deal with him too. You know just how big of a pain in the ass he can be. ‘Oh, [First], let me carry you to my bed! Oh, [First], I’m sorry for hitting you when I thought you were cheating on me, please come back! Oh, [First], I’m not a pervert, but wear those shorts that show off your ass for me!’ Please, it’s all pathetic, isn’t it? He’s just as bad as me.”

Not wanting to get hurt even more, you agree by nodding your head faster than necessary, you think, because as a response Sukuna laughs so loud it hurts your ears.

“Tell me, just why haven’t you left him yet then, hm? Since you’re so eager to admit I am right.” 

Your answer is whispered low, though you already know Yuji can hear you, even when Sukuna takes his turn with the body they share. “Because of you. You’d… drag me back.”

“Good girl.” The customary compliments are merely a facade just like this one, no matter who is speaking. His resentment towards you remains intact. Soon, Yuji will also harbor the same fury, as he takes his rightful turn in that vessel they both inhabit. “You haven’t even been promoted to Grade 3 yet. Quite sad, wouldn’t you say? Not that a little girl like you should be a sorcerer to begin with.”

Once again, you nod your head.

“How would you ever hope to survive me, or even outrun me, the King of Curses?”

“I… I wouldn’t.”

Another praise that is just as empty as all the ones before it. With it, the walls of Yuji’s dorm feel even more like that of a prison’s, and this room feels even more small. If these walls could talk, they would tell you to run, or at least you would hope that they would.

“That’s right. So good.” Sukuna turns to face the only window in Yuji’s dorm. You look too. The sun is going down. Did you really sleep for that long? Not that you blame yourself, dealing with Yuji during the day could be considered a full-time job after all. “You fell asleep before I could get my turn. Now, how are you going to compensate me for that when it is fully night outside?”

As the sun descends like a sharp guillotine blade, you and Sukuna share a silent understanding of the inevitable. Your legs tremble at the impending doom, for both of you are well aware of the answer.

You’ll stay, won’t you?

[inuyashaluver]

Queen! Ur writing is always so perfect 💋 would u consider writing something for Mearps?

tiktok exposure - mary earps

mary earps x reader

description: in which your secret girlfriend exposes your relationship on her tiktok

warnings: reader gets slapped with a tortilla - funniest warning i’ve ever written in my life, little swearing, unhinged but so am i

a/n: omg, lovely, you’re so sweet! thank you for the kindness and the request, hope you enjoy ❤️

⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆

you and your girlfriend, mary were in a relatively ‘secret’ relationship. your friends, family and teammates all knew about it, the only people really left in the dark was the media.

there wasn’t any specific reason for it, you and mary just thought it would be better this way in the beginning stages of your relationship. but the thing is, you’ve been dating for over 5 years and people still think that you and mary are just affectionate best friends. slowly but surely, you both didn’t want to hide it any longer.

—

you met mary in the england youth teams. originally, she didn’t like you at first. you were a forward and she was a keeper, and even though you were on the same team, her body would burn in anger when the ball you sent to the back of the net would graze her fingertips everytime.

you were always labelled a sweetheart, one of the nicest girls on the team by a long shot and no one could deny it, not even mary.

she always claimed she didn’t like you but as the time progressed, she began to admire you. mistaking her ‘dislike’ for intrigue.

to ‘settle your differences’, you and mary were forced to room together at every camp, meaning the two of you would talk and goof off together. it was clear to your teammates that you both liked each other, so with a gentle push, mary made the first move and asked you out. and ever since then, you’d been inseparable.

—

you and mary ended up playing together at all the same clubs, labelling the two of you as the unstoppable best friends, something that the two of you would laugh about.

—

it was the women’s world cup, you and mary getting called up for the senior team at the same time in your shared flat. it was nerve wracking, yet exciting, as everyone had good feelings about the tournament.

during this time, your girlfriend had grown quite a love for frequently posting on tiktok, making random videos with your teammates everyday. occasionally she would vlog and get you to say “hi” the comments always saying how cute your friendship was.

“hello, everyone! millie and mary here,” mary holds the phone while she sits on the plane next to millie, you’re sitting behind her. “we’re gonna play around with this guess the country filter while everyone is sleeping” mary says in a lame attempt of a whisper while her and millie cackle.

millie glances around the plane until her eyes fall on your sleeping figure. “literally everyone is sleeping right now, look at your girl over here” millie gestures to you and mary’s face lights up, she lifts up her phone to show you sleeping next to maya, both of you bundled up in hoodies. though what mary didn’t realise, was that you were wearing her hoodie.

“sleepy girls” mary coos before laughing and propping the phone up so they could continue the video.

“what’s that?” millie asks

“jaw, teeth? mail teeth?” mary says in full confusion

you woke up to the loud laughs of mary and millie with a groan, you peer over the front of your seat to see the two of them goofing off on mary’s phone. you’re visible in the camera, your tired eyes evident on your face.

you slap them both on the back of the head and they both let out a gasp in surprise, snapping their heads to see a very grumpy you staring down at them.

“too loud” you grit out and mary smiles up at you affectionately, moving her hand to pinch your cheek gently. “sorry, love” she laughs, millie blows you a kiss in apology and you couldn’t help but smile. before you sit down, you wave at the camera, “it’s india” you say simply before sitting back down, hearing the excited yells of astonishment at your correct answer.

the video blows up, specifically the comments saying how funny you all were. there were some comments saying how you were wearing mary’s clothes and some saying the way mary looked at you was anything but friendly but fans were quickly shutting them down.

everyone truly believed the two of you were best friends but the video began to decay those opinions. the speculations were growing and you and mary honestly found it quite funny.

—

you and mary room together, forcing you to film as many videos as she could with you. her tiktok page filling up completely with random videos during the day or challenges she would do with different teammates.

the social media admin was also having a field day with all the content being released from mary, they’d also been releasing their own. one that sparked a lot of interest in particular, was one of you and mary arriving to a game.

she’d gotten off the bus first and waved to the camera, grabbing your hand and helping you walk down the stairs. when you reach the ground, you look up at her and smile affectionately before she bends down slightly, showing you her back.

you instantly take the invitation and she piggybacks you while you wave to the camera.

“i only arrive in style” you joke at the camera, throwing it a wink as you rest your cheek against mary’s. “what about me?” mary mocks, you just smile and nuzzle into her.

in the distance, ella is speaking to alessia, “i wish my partner was here so i didn’t have to walk” she jokes, it’s barely audible but fans picked it up right away. at this point, you and mary didn’t really care, you were just being you and having fun and that’s all that mattered for the both of you.

—

though, a video that fully confirmed your relationship was made by mary. she’d begged you to join her on a challenge and claimed it would be extremely funny.

“baby, please, it’ll be so good!” she pleads, hugging you from behind while you brush your teeth. “can’t you ask me later?” you muffle out, mouth full of toothpaste and she laughs affectionately. kissing your cheek repeatedly as she squeezed your waist gently. she stares at you in the mirror and you give in easily, “fine” you groan, finishing up brushing your teeth as she squeals excitedly.

you had training today, both of you agreed to film the video at the training facility as it involved water.

she’d clearly already organised this, when she walked you in the room, the entire team was there and had brought all the materials.

you laugh in disbelief as your water bottle and tortillas are thrusted in your hands. “what are we doing again?” you smile at mary while she gives the phone to another tiktok expert, esme to film. “so we fill our mouths with water and then do scissors, paper, rock and then whoever wins slaps the other person with the tortilla” mary explains, all the girls are in fits of giggles excited to see the video happen right in front of them.

you shake your head amusingly but agree, laughing when mary gives you your tortilla. she does a quick intro with her arm slung around your shoulder. “hello everyone, me and this hottie over here have a great video for you today, enjoy!” she says cheekily, you roll your eyes at the pet name and ignore the teasing coming from behind the phone.

you fill your mouth up with water and try not to laugh at mary’s appearance, she was clearly trying to make you laugh and it took everything in you to hold it in. you send her a warning glare before holding your hands up for scissors, paper, rock.

you win the first one and gently slap mary’s cheek with the tortilla, clearly missing the challenge. people awe at you from behind the camera and you look at them confused, mary swallows her water and laughs. “you’re so cute, (y/n/n)!” millie yells and you try not to laugh at her.

“you need to slap hard!” mary exclaims, your eyes widen but you nod, gesturing for her to continue. you win again and look at mary trying not to laugh. you slap a little harder but still quite gentle and mary smiles at you, swallowing her water and pulling you into a little hug.

“i’ve picked the wrong person to do this with” she coos, you swallow your water and laugh when she cradles your head to her chest. “you’ve gotta slap me really hard with it, love, don’t hold back!” mary smiles at you before separating again.

you get back into position and do scissors, paper, rock again, this time mary wins and you look at her nervously. she smirks and lines the tortilla up next to your face. you let out a little squeal in fear as she pretends to slap you but doesn’t. the team laughs brightly at the interaction, some of them a little scared for your cheek.

mary finally slaps you with the tortilla and your eyes widen in shock and you spit out a little water in the process. the slap was hard, so hard that she broke the tortilla in the process. people let out shocked gasps and laughs as they watch you recover. you were trying not to spit out your water from laughter but failing completely, you keep laughing with little spits of water coming out of your mouth while you hold your cheek.

mary looks at you in shock, swallowing the water and cradling your face between her hands. “baby! oh my god, i’m so sorry” she looks into your eyes and smiles when she sees you laughing.

“shit, mearps, the gym is working out for you” you joke, she kisses your slapped cheek repeatedly as an apology and you can feel yourself growing warm. “i’m so sorry, my love” mary says earnestly, you kiss her cheek back and tell her not to worry about it.

you walk up to the camera with a big grin, showing them your cheek with a laugh. “confirmed, mary earps is a tortilla abuser, slapped her own girlfriend” you joke, mary laughs brightly from behind you, “oi!” she hoists you over her shoulder and you let out a gleeful laugh, she playfully slaps your behind and runs off. esme stops the camera and the girls watch it back together, pissing themselves laughing at it.

mary takes you to a hidden corner of the room and pulls you into a loving kiss, it lasts for a couple seconds before she pulls back and inspects your cheek. “i’m so sorry, baby, i overestimated the strength of the tortilla” she laughs, “it’s okay, babe, now i can say mary earps slapped me with a tortilla, big achievement” you shrug, she smirks and closes the gap, kissing you again quickly before walking towards the girls again.

—

the video blows up, becoming one of the most popular world cup videos as well as the confirmation of your relationship. everyone claims “they knew it” on the video and sending the two of you support. now that everyone knows, mary will make couple tiktoks with you and feeds everyone in the woso community their favourite couple content.

⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆

you know the drill!!! - just pretend it’s you xx ily chlo

liked by mayaletissier and 44,232 others

1maryearps: when she confirms the relationship 🫦

view all comments

yourname: mary earps slapped her own girlfriend with a tortilla

↳ 1maryearps: i said i was sorry!

↳ yourname: YOU. SLAPPED. YOUR. GIRLFRIEND. WITH. A. TORTILLA

↳ 1maryearps: I’M. SORRY.

↳ yourname: you’re lucky you’re cute

↳ mbrighty04: you’re the cutest (y/n/n)!

↳ yourname: no you mills!!

↳ 1maryearps: i’m sorry, am i missing something here?

↳ mbrighty04: mind your business

[multific]

Be Paw-Sitive

Mattheo Riddle x Reader

Inspired by @rilakeila​'s work

Summary: You are an animagus who can turn into a cat. But one morning, you wake up to an unpleasant surprise. 

You were majorly screwed.

How were you supposed to go to classes like this?!

Seem like your private lessons with Professor McGonagall didn't pay off as well as you thought.

Now, here you were stuck with a pair of ears and a tail!

You must have tried to turn in your sleep and somehow got halfway stuck. That wouldn't be the issue. The issue was that no matter what you tried, you couldn't make them go away.

And your first class was with Snape... great. 

No student knew about your abilities. Some professors knew but that's all.

You wanted to call in sick, pretending you were ill, but you also knew no one would believe you.

One last attempt you turned fully into a feline before turning back but the ears and tail were still there. You knew you had to go to class. You knew you couldn't reveal your secret.

You let out a sigh before grabbing your robe to hide your tail and a hat for your head. You thanked the winter at least it will be passable on the hallways, maybe not inside the class but you will deal with that later...

"Miss Y/L/N... I thought you were aware that it is rude to wear a hat inside my class." 

Of course, Snape couldn't just let it pass, but you were a great actress.

"Of course, Professor, I got ill last night and I am shivering as it is, if you could allow me please to keep it on, I learned so much for today's test, I didn't want to miss it." Snape gave you a look but let it pass. Just this once.

After class when everyone left, you stayed behind.

"Professor, I do apologise for the hat."

"You are not sick." his voice was so monotone.

"No. I woke up this morning and..." you took off your hat and showed him your ears. "And I also have a tail..." 

"I'll talk with Minerva. See if she can help, for now go to your next class." you smiled and turned to leave.

You always liked Snape. There was something about him, something behind his eyes, he was hiding his kindness and you saw that.

Your day went on quite well, pretending to be sick so you could keep your hat on. Professor McGonagall unfortunately, had no idea how to change you back, she said she will read some books and get back to you as soon as possible.

Later that day, you sat defeated in a hallway. It was rather quiet since no one really used that hallway.

You let out a long sigh before trying to return to your book.

"Here you are. I have been looking for you." came a voice and as you looked up, you saw Mattheo walking over to you. "Here." he handed you a small brown bag and you looked at him confused. "Take it, it's not going to explode!" Mattheo and you barely spoke before. He was a friend of yours, you would say. 

You took the bag and opened it, only to find medicine in there.

"The lady at the store said these are the best for a cold." he explained as you looked back up at him. "You said during many classes today that you feel ill."

Was he worried about you?

"Thank you!" you yelled after him as he walked away. He raised one of his hands to wave goodbye. 

You felt your heart swell.

You might have just developed a crush on Mattheo Riddle...

---

Two days later and you had the same issue. 

The professors had no idea how to help you and every possibility you tried out failed.

Dumbledor decided to officially give you an exemption from classes for the time being. He respected your decision that you didn't want to share your secret with the students. 

Everyone was told that you were sick.

You truly didn't like lying to others, especially your friends, but you were also not ready to share that you are an animagus.

There was a sudden knock on your door.

"O-One moment!" you yelled, getting into bed and covering your head with your hoodie. "Come in!"

It was Mattheo, the last person you expected. 

"Hi." he said as he closed the door behind himself. 

"Hello."

"How are you feeling?"

"Oh, I'm a little better thank you." you smiled as he looked around your room.

He noticed the books scattered around the place. Everything looked and smelled like you.

"What's this?" he said as he walked over to your table, finding the bag he gave you days ago. "Y-You didn't take the meds I gave you?"

"Um..." but you saw him rolling his eyes.

"Are you serious? I thought you were different from the others! You could have told me, I know I am the Dark Lord's son! But I am not like him!"

"What?" you asked, confused.

"For fucks sake! You didn't take these because you hate me just like the others right?!" he yelled before running towards the door but you were also fast. You grabbed his arm and turned him towards you. He was angry.

"I-that's not why. I don't hate you." you said but he rolled his eyes. 

"You don't even look sick. Did you lie to the teachers?!" he asked as he looked at your face. 

The hatred in his eyes made you scared. Scared that you will lose him.

"I didn't." 

"What is going on here?"

"I can't tell you and please stop yelling."

"I yell if I want to Y/N! You made me worry for you that you were sick! I got you medicine and now two days later I find out that you didn't even take them! Is this because I'm a Riddle?! Why did you lie?!"

"I didn't... I can't tell you."

"Can't tell me?! Y/N, I thought you were better than that. I thought you could see beyond a last name, not like the others. Looks I was wrong." he moved to get to the door but you stood in his way, leaning against the door, not letting him out. "Move out of my way." but you shook your head, no. "MOVE!" he yelled louder than before and it really irritated your ears. You covered your face as you slid down against the door, tears running down your face.

"I don't hate you, please don't hate me." is what you said but he yelled again, this time it was your name. And just like that, you were gone.

Mattheo's eyes nearly fell out of his head as he now saw a cat where you were previously. The cat ran under the bed and Mattheo stood there, frozen. 

His brain tried to function but he just couldn't move or think.

Took him a good minute before he knelt down on the floor and looked under the bed. 

"Come out please." he said with such a soft voice, it even surprised him. He tried to reach under the bed but you moved away, out of his reach. "Come on, Y/N." but you didn't budge. He let out a sigh. "I don't hate you. I really don't. I was just angry, I'm sorry for yelling. I really like you, Y/N. So, my mind went into a spiral when I thought you hated me, but I get it now, please come out." but you didn't move. 

Mattheo moved to sit on the bed, deciding to give you time and space.

You moved from under the bed. Getting out and looking at him as he kept on staring at the wall. You didn't turn back, deciding to stay as a feline for now. 

You jumped up on the bed and this is when he noticed you. You sat with your tail moving around you, you were thinking as well.

"I didn't know you were an animagus. I guess no one else knows." you shook your head, no. "Do the professors know?" you nodded, yes. "Ah, makes sense. You are a really cute cat you know. You look very fluffy and... sorry." He tried to reach over possibly to pet you but stopped. Still sitting on the bed, you took a deep breath before turning back.

"Please don't tell the others. They would tease and bully me." you begged as you moved closer to him. "I didn't go to classes because I can't make my tail and ears disappear," you said pointing at your head. "I'm sorry for lying. I never expected you to buy me medicine." he nodded.

"I won't tell anyone."

"I really like you too, Mattheo. I felt really bad for lying, but you understand why I couldn't tell you." he nodded before he looked at you, smiling a little.

"Your eyes are also... um... cat-like?" you let out a long sigh.

"Professor McGonagall said it is normal for a young animagus to have certain characteristics like that. Eyes are normal but ears and tail... not so much."

"I think it's cute." he reached up, touching the ears on top of your head. "Would you purr if I scratched here?"

"No, I bite."

"You are not a nice kitty then." he smirked and you smiled.

"I don't plan on being one." you played along with him and it made him smile. "I am a very bad kitty especially when someone who isn't my boyfriend touches me."

"Oh, you have a boyfriend now?"

"I do."

"Lucky fella."

"Yeah, he brings me medicine when I'm sick but he is rather bothered by his last name."

"I'm not! People are." you smiled as you moved even closer to him, and he moved his arm around you. "I'll try and get you some notes from classes." his hand ran up and down your back, it found your tail as he flinched away a little but you moved it back to his hand. 

"Next time, please don't yell at me. I hate it when people argue and my hearing is sensitive."

"Sorry, Darling." a comfortable silence filled the room. "I'm glad you are not sick at least. I was rather worried."

"I still have a tail and ears..."

"They are at least cute." you looked at him before moving your head to his neck. 

"You are cute." you said as you yawned a little. 

"So... should I leave before your boyfriend comes back?"

"He is a big scary Slytherin so... you might want to." you smiled as you moved back to sit.

"As soon as your ears have disappeared, I will take you on a date."

"We don't have to wait! I can wear my hat!" you smiled as he watched your eyes shine. He gave you a nod before you jumped off the bed and ran to the bathroom. 

"Kitten, take it slow please, I still have a class."

"Oh... will you skip?"

"I mean it is... of course I will." you smiled and resumed brushing your hair. 

You were really excited about this new chapter in your life. 

A boyfriend who accepts you and didn't judge you for being an animagus.

Part 2 SMUT

Taglist: @fleursirvart​ @greenarrowhead​ @thisismysecrethappyplace​ @sincerelyfan​ @theoneanna​ @aestheticsandmarvel​ @rororo06​ @castellandiangelo​ @destynelseclipsa​ @spilledinkindumpster​ @capsiclesdoll​ @puknow​ @alwayshave-faith​ @alex12948​ @lxdyred​  @imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl​ @anonymoussherlockandmarvelgeek​ @praline357​ @trshngyn​ @avengers-r-us​ @violet-19999​ @top1bbgloak​   @manduse​   @jacalineiscomingforyou​  

~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

DO NOT STEAL, PLAGIARISE, REPOST OR TRANSLATE ANY OF MY WORKS  

[hyuuukais]

-`♡´ - APARTMENT 143

pairing -> lee minho x fem reader

synopsis -> after a bad breakup, y/n needs to find a new place to live. although she's grateful for her best friend, up-and-coming model hwang hyunjin, for letting her stay at his, she can't keep living with him and his model roommates. so when an opening for somewhere nearby with cheap rent opens up, she jumps on it, despite knowing next to nothing about the 3 other tenants, only that one owns 3 cats. the three quickly learn of her breakup, determined to help get her back on her feet. but what happens when one of them begins to develop feelings?

warnings -> gen, y/n talks abt being compared to her sister, family tension, food/eating mention, lowkey survivors guilt going on

MASTERLIST | PREVIOUS | NEXT

CHAPTER FIFTEEN -> LIKE IT USED TO BE (partially written, wc: 898)

"Oh good, you're not dead yet," Han speaks a bit loudly into the phone and you move it away from your face slightly.

The bright screen has your eyes straining in the otherwise dark room, tucked under a plush comforter from your childhood. It's amazing it's still in good condition considering how old it is, but your bed squeaks under you to remind you of the age of this room full of old memories. On the night stand next to you is a framed photo of you with your family, your mom and dad standing behind you and another little girl, slightly taller than you; your sister. You lean over and put the frame face down.

"Still alive, barely," you reply with a sigh. "Why'd you assume I'm having a bad time?"

"Let me think," he puts a finger to his bottom lip in fake concentration. "'How am I supposed to last four more days'... doesn't exactly sound like someone having a good time."

"You caught me, but I swear it's nothing." A lie. "Nothing interesting." A truth; is your family drama really worth talking about? "How's the apartment?"

"Fine. We've started to try and befriend the guy down the hall, Seungmin? Maybe you've run into him?" You shake your head. "Minho seems to get along with him the best. I think it's because they both act unwelcoming to strangers."

This makes you snort. The two of you continue to talk and laugh, the cats making an appearance at one point with Minho, who gives you a short wave, and you don't realize how late it's getting until your eyes catch the time briefly; 3:08AM. Shit. How loud have you been? You freeze when you hear a door open, muting Jisung on the other end and flipping your phone over. Your door opens.

"What are you doing up so late? Don't you know what time it is?" Your sister groans. "And you're being kind of loud, mind keeping it down a bit? Who're you even talking to?"

"No one," you say too quickly, internally cringing at yourself. "Sorry. I'm going to bed soon."

"You're lucky it was me and not mom who walked in here," she says with a sort of laugh. "She would have screamed her head off and taken your phone, despite being an adult now."

You sit up. "Yeah."

"She really fucked us up a bit, huh?" She sits next to you hesitantly when you don't reply. "Maybe we'd be closer now."

"Hyo-"

"I'm sorry," she stands suddenly. "I shouldn't be saying all this. Forget this, please." Your older sister stands in the doorway, eyes pleading. "Don't mention this to anyone, okay?"

"Okay," you whisper, knowing damn well Jisung heard every word.

As you listen to her footsteps fade, you learn to breath again, flipping your phone back over and unmuting Han. When he notices you're back, he says nothing, fiddling with the string on the hoodie he wears.

"You-"

"It's okay-" You speak at the same time and laugh, breaking the newfound tension. He continues. "It's okay if you don't want to talk about it, but I guess this is what you meant by complicated?"

You pout, eyes beginning to sting. When you speak, your voice breaks a little. "Yeah, I mean, it's hard, you know? All my life I've been compared to Hyo by my mother and teachers and even my friends. Like, I have to be her instead of myself, and she never once stepped in to protect me from all that like a big sister is supposed to. Never heard her stand up for me when it was happening right in front of her, no moment of 'hey, let my little sister be who she wants, you already have one of me'. I feel like I can't talk to her anymore. I'm rambling, sorry."

"No, it's okay," Han reassures you.

"We used to be close when we were young," you speak into the space he's left you. "Then as we got older, we drifted. We're only a few years apart, but she always acted so much better than me once we hit a certain age. She said hurtful things to me a lot, and I'm sure I said equally awful things back." A tear falls onto your blanket and you sniff, looking up to your ceiling where a poster of a boy band is pinned to prevent more from falling. "I want my sister back, but... I think there's too much pain."

"Oh Y/nnie," Han gives you a sad look. "I wish I could hug you right now."

"I'm just saying stupid stuff now, I should sleep." You've overshared and want out of this conversation ASAP. "Goodnight Han, sleep well."

He's about to protest when you hang up, moving your phone next to the frame to charge. For a while you lay there, staring at your ceiling with a heavy weight on your chest. You've never fully talked to someone about the way your upbringing made you feel or the way it still affects you. There's still a scared little girl inside of you, shying away from hands that want to hold you, comfort you. Because what if it's all a lie? What if they all leave you, like Hwa? Or like... like him?

You glance over to the frame again, not having it in you to flip it back up.

notes -> me vs y/ns mother rn- who do we think this "him" is referring to? and what happened? will hyunjin and y/n make up?

taglist -> @chaeryred @toplinelix @channie-143 @puppyminnnie @tfshouldidohere @kangaracha @chlodavids @whitney190 @thisisnotjacinta @borahae-reads @brooklynie @gini143 @kayleigh-28 @skz-streamer @babyphotos0325 @scallywag1299 @venusmoonxnight @naomisosoup @fertiliezedtoesw @s00buwu @realrintaro @anothershorthuman @skzstaykatsy @ilovejeongin007 @btswestan @multifandomedsimp @ihrtlix @raehawthorne @euphoric-univers @hyperpixie @evermourning @satsuri3su @jazziwritesthings @minhwa @wyzminho @fic-for-readers @dreamerwasfound @imsiriuslyreal @lailac13 @palindrome969 @lixie-phoria @aalexyuuuhm @sunflowerbebe07 @st4rhwa @lukeys-giggle @jabmastersupriseee @judeduartewannabe @gaysontheprince @stepout-09-15 @splat00z

^^^ orange means i can't tag you

[thealternateuniverse]

A Misunderstanding

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

-------

Y/N shut out the world by putting her headphones on, music blaring, as she walked towards the cafeteria with good spirits. Her weekend had been well spent after decluttering her apartment. Her dad had left her a message last night, informing her that he would be out of town but would return before their match against Iowa.

For some reason, she couldn't stop thinking about the Paranoia game from last time and how Paige had just revealed she was into Hannah Jump. Hannah was her teammate back in Stanford, and Y/N admitted, aside from being talented on the court, she was good in academics and... really pretty. It was itching her to know if Paige would pursue Hannah or not; after all, she had just admitted she liked her. Paige might appear as the fuckboy type among their lot but she might be the most decent one when it comes to relationship. She never pursued anyone ,yet, probably some flirtations but never to the point of dating. Her world seems to revolve only in basketball. Regardless, it is not her business.

She opened TikTok last night, only to be blasted by Paige Bueckers edits in her feed. The algorithm must have been playing some kind of joke on her, she thought, feeling a mix of amusement and irritation at the coincidence.

Shrugging off the thought, Y/N lazily slipped her hands into her hoodie's pocket and ambled towards her destination. Her train of thoughts got cut off when she almost stumbled, feeling a weight on her back that nearly sent her crashing to the ground.

"The fuck b— What the hell Paige Bueckers!"

Y/N exclaimed, cursing every inch of Paige's being as she struggled to regain her balance while supporting Paige's weight.

Paige, seemingly unfazed by the near disaster she caused, had the audacity to laugh.

"You nearly broke my back, Paige! I could've broken your face too!"

Y/N protested for the last time, yet still allowed Paige to remain on her back.

"Damn right, you're heavy," Y/N grunted under Paige's weight. It seemed she had no intention of getting off anytime soon. Despite being almost the same height, Paige had bulked up since her ACL recovery.

"Suck it up, Miller. Don't be a loser," Paige encouraged, oblivious to Y/N's struggle.

"Yeah, and you'll be the loser if I drop you here." she bit back a response.

By the time they reached the cafeteria, Y/N was already sweating, carrying Paige acting as a warm-up.

She hadn't actually seen Paige face-to-face yet, so when she dropped her off, she almost stuttered. Paige's hair wasn't tied up today, and she was only wearing her sleeveless compression top, which fit her perfectly, sticking it to the right places.

"Hey, Miller. I know I look good; stop ogling," Paige called out with a playful airiness, teasing Y/N as she caught her glance.

Y/N rolled her eyes, attempting to conceal her embarrassment from being caught gawking.

"No braids today?" she asked before Paige could further boost her ego.

"Kayla is out of town, so..." Paige shrugged. "You can braid it later before practice."

"Yeah, and make sure you took a shower today; I don't want some greasy hair," Y/N quipped with a playful smirk.

Paige feigned being hurt, putting both her hands on her chest in mock offense.

"You're so mean, dude. You don't know what some people are going through," Paige said, shaking her head while placing her hand on Y/N's shoulder.

"You're so dramatic. Now if you'll get out of my way please, I am hungry." Y/N retorted with a chuckle, nudging Paige playfully.

Paige stepped aside, allowing Y/N to pass, and followed after.

Y/N couldn't help but notice something different about Paige today; she seems to be perky.

"What's gotten into you today, Paige?" Y/N stopped and turned to confront Paige. The latter merely bestowed onto her a deep grin that extended to her eyes.

"Nothing, why? Is it a crime to be in a good mood?" Paige remarked, rolling her shoulders, a clear indication of her upbeat demeanor.

Y/N shook her head in disbelief but decided to let it go, opting instead to grab her breakfast.

-------

"Stay put, Paige Madison, you're gonna ruin my braids," Y/N insisted, gently placing her hand on Paige's shoulder to keep her still while she worked on her hair.

"What's taking you so long? Kayla does it quickly," Paige complained.

In truth, Y/N was deliberately taking her time. She needed to steady her hands, unsure why they were shaking. After all, she'd done this countless times before. But being so close to Paige felt different, almost unfamiliar. And Paige's hair, soft and smelling of peppermint, tempted her to linger, to breathe in the scent and savor the moment.

"There, finally done."

Taking one last satisfied look, Y/N released Paige. "There, all done," she announced proudly. This time, she'd opted for a Dutch braid, a departure from Paige's usual signature hairstyle.

"Thanks, but I'm still the best," Paige quipped with a playful grin

"Oh, really? Care to make a bet?" Y/N challenged, a mischievous glint in her eye.

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

The team's lounge was unusually quiet following practice. The girls taking the opportunity to catch up on sleep after the exhausting training session.

Meanwhile, Y/N sat on the edge of her seat, nervously tapping her foot as she debated whether to open it or not. She found herself repeatedly switching it on and off, unable to make up her mind.

Cameron's message had left Y/N in a dilemma. Eventually, she rose to pack her things and switched off her phone. As she moved, she suddenly halted, blinking as the vision in her left eye began to blur. Panic welled up as she feared she might pass out. She turned around to her left, unaware of Paige, who had just emerged from the shower. Their heads collided.

"What the heck! Are you blind or something, dawg?" Paige exclaimed, rubbing the spot where they had collided.

"Oh yeah? And today I discovered just how thick your skull is," Y/N retorted, her tone dripping with sarcasm.

"But seriously, are you okay?" Paige asked, concern evident in her voice.

"Yeah, actually, I am blind. I didn't see you," Y/N admitted.

"Probably because your contact lens is off," Paige suggested, seeing the uneven eye color. Her left green and right hazel.

"Oh," Y/N replied, mentally chastising herself for forgetting her own condition.

"Here, let me help you. Stay put," Paige said as she draped her towel over a chair and gently guided Y/N's head with her hands to assist in fixing her contact lens.

"How am I supposed to know you're not going to poke m--"

"Quiet, almost done," Paige interrupted, her tone firm but reassuring.

As Paige worked, the room seemed to grow warmer. It was the second time they had been this close outside of the court, and Y/N found herself uncomfortable with her blurry vision, unable to clearly see Paige's features up close. Yet, paradoxically, she also found solace in the blurred lines, grateful that she wouldn't have to dwell on the details of their encounters today.

"There, done," Paige announced, and Y/N blinked, relieved to find her vision clear once more.

"T-thanks," Y/N stuttered, clearing her throat. Their eyes locked for a moment, but before the intensity could linger, Y/N was the first to break the contact.

"U-uh, I'll just pack my things," she mumbled, trying to ease the sudden tension.

"Y-yeah, you should," Paige replied awkwardly, her own discomfort evident in her voice.

---------

Unbelievable, Y/N let out an exasperated sigh as her car refused to start. Of all the days and weather conditions, why did it have to happen now? How was she supposed to get home in this rain?

"This is ridiculous," she muttered, leaning her head against the steering wheel. The parking lot seemed endless, and she knew she'd be soaked by the time she reached the bus stop for her commute home.

She opened her phone, fingers tapping out a message in their group chat, hoping someone was still around in their class or lingering in the parking lot who could give her a ride home.

Upon sending the message, Paige was quick to reply, mentioning she had just gotten into her car and would swing by to pick Y/N up.

It was the third time Paige had come to her rescue, and it seemed like she always appeared at just the right moment.

Paige's Camry pulled up alongside Y/N's car, and she swiftly gathered her belongings before stepping out and securing her vehicle. She dashed toward Paige's car, a brisk pace driven by both the biting cold and her aversion to getting wet.

"Thanks, Bueckers," she muttered gratefully as she settled into the passenger seat, closing the door behind her.

"Anytime, Miller. What would you do without me?" Paige quipped, exuding confidence and earning an eye roll from Y/N.

As they merged into traffic, Waka Flocka's music blared from Paige's stereo.

"I need to swing by Walmart first; I'm running low on groceries. Hope you don't mind," Paige added, breaking the rhythm of the music-filled silence.

Y/N nodded in agreement. "Yeah, I can grab some for myself as well."

The rain had somehow mellowed by the time they arrived at Walmart. The two of them dashed into the store, snagging a cart and launching into their grocery run.

Paige peered into Y/N's meticulously organized cart, filled with salad ingredients and chicken, devoid of any junk food.

"How are you even full just eating that?" Paige teased, gesturing towards Y/N's cart.

Y/N glanced over at Paige's cart, which seemed more like a haul than a grocery run, stocked with proteins, organic chips, and various meats. It was clear Paige was focused solely on food items.

"Duh. Do I look like I have time to cook?" Y/n retorted with a smirk, her tone dripping with sarcasm.

Paige raised both hands in surrender. "Alright. For an athlete, you sure eat less."

Y/N, who had been chubby back in grade school due to her big bones, had made a conscious effort to monitor her weight when she got into basketball.

"I've got big bones. Plus, I was fat back in grade school. I easily gain weight, so I have to watch what I eat," Y/N explained.

Paige's curiosity piqued at the mention of Y/N's childhood appearance, but she merely mouthed an 'oh,' holding back her questions for the moment.

When they finished their grocery shopping, the two of them struggled on their way back to the parking lot, battling against the persistent rain. They did their best to shield the bags from getting wet, navigating through the downpour with determination.

Besides her earlier dilemma about Cameron's text, she finds herself faced with a new one. First, she struggles with the task of carrying the grocery bags up to her apartment alone, as she already has her gym bag filled with basketball gear. Second, she hesitates to ask Paige for help, knowing how much Paige has already done for her today. She waits until they arrive at her apartment before finally mustering the courage to speak up.

"Um, Paige, there's one more thing. I really need your help carrying these groceries," she stammers, nodding towards the backseat where the bags are piled.

"No problem at all, Miller. I've got you," Paige responds with a thumbs up and a playful wink.

"Thanks. I owe you big time for all your help today."

Y/N couldn't help but roll her eyes every time Paige proudly exclaimed, "What would you do without me?"

In the elevator, she nudged Paige to keep her quiet as Paige continued to prattle on about her indispensable role in Y/N's life.

A sense of panic washed over Y/N when she noticed her door was unlocked. Only she and her dad knew the passcode.

Upon entering her apartment, she was greeted by Cameron sitting comfortably in her living room.

"Hi," Cameron greeted awkwardly.

"Who let you in?" Y/N asked, attempting to hide her annoyance, though it came out with a grit.

"I, uh... asked your dad," Cameron replied nervously.

Y/N felt her jaw clench.

"You can—"

"The heck, bro, why are you standing there like a post or something?" Paige barged in, not noticing Cameron at first, as she followed behind Y/N.

"Sorry about that. Hey, let's drop off these groceries and grab some lunch at your place, yeah?" Y/N suggested.

Paige gave Y/N a confused look, not catching on until she noticed Cameron. Y/N glared at her, silently conveying a "play along or else" message.

Paige, on the other hand, finds herself uncertain of what to do. She holds Y/N's groceries, her gaze shifting between Y/N and Cameron, feeling like an inadvertent intruder.

"U-uh, w-well, yeah, sure," she awkwardly responds, inching towards the kitchen to set down the groceries. The palpable tension between Y/N and Cameron doesn't escape her notice.

"H-hi, Cameron," she offers as she passes by, to which Cameron responds with a polite smile. "Sorry, I must have interrupted your plans today," Cameron apologizes.

"It's fine. No problem. I'll just… yeah, groceries," Paige gestures towards the kitchen, trying to diffuse the awkwardness.

She retreats to the kitchen, giving the two space to talk.

"I'm sorry for coming here with short notice. I thought you read my texts," Cameron explains.

"I am busy. I don't have time to be on my phone all day," Y/N replies tersely.

Paige wonders how she ended up in this situation, feeling more like the one interrupting rather than Cameron.

"W-well, I am staying at a hotel. Let me know when you are free," Cameron offers tentatively.

"I have no free time. I have an upcoming match, so feel free to go back to California anytime," Y/N says casually.

"Y/N…" Cameron trails off, at a loss for words. With a sigh, she continues, "Alright, let me know when you are ready to talk to me. I'll be leaving."

Cameron gathers her things and departs. What the heck just happened?

Paige returns to the living room to find Y/N standing there, visibly distressed after Cameron's departure.

"Well… what the hell just happened?" Paige asks, trying to make sense of the tension.

Y/N sighs heavily. "Long story. I really don't have the energy to deal with her," she says, shaking her head in frustration.

"Do you still want to go grab lunch?" Paige offers, hoping to lighten the mood.

Y/N's head shoots up, her eyes lighting up at the mention of food.

"I think so. I am hungry," she admits, a small smile forming on her lips.

"Well, don't expect salad. I won't feed you that kind of crap," Paige quips, injecting a bit of humor into the conversation. ---------

They found themselves in a brief argument over whether to cook or dine out, but in the end, Paige's preference for eating out won.

Paige wasn't joking when she said she wouldn't subject Y/N to just salad. She orders some chicken wings for her, reasoning that it's just for one day, and Y/N can return to her original diet afterward.

"Well, we're fucked," Paige muttered, her ears growing warmer and eyes a mix of amusement and concern.

Y/N's brows creased, curious about Paige's comment. Her annoyance grew as her phone buzzed again. Opening it, she was bombarded with Instagram and TikTok notifications, causing color to drain from her face in realization.

"What the hell? They took this angle wrong in all ways. Do we look like we're kissing?" Y/N exclaimed, her voice unintentionally carrying across the restaurant. The heads of other diners turned towards their table, causing Y/N to bow her head slightly in embarrassment.

Paige, now red-faced, looked away, feeling the weight of the situation.

"Who the hell even took this clip?" Y/N continued, her annoyance evident.

It became clear that the video was taken earlier when Y/N's contact lens fell out, and Paige was helping her. The angle made it appear as if they were kissing, with Paige's back and her hands on Y/N's face.

"That's kind of awkward. It really does look like a compromising angle," Paige added, trying to diffuse the tension.

Y/N shook her head in disbelief. "I didn't know there's actually malice in helping people now."

"Let them think what they want to think. It's not like it's any of their business," Paige declared, trying to brush off the situation with a nonchalant attitude. When in truth, her heart is almost thumping out of her chest.

"Alright, for the sake of my peace of mind," Y/N said with a resigned sigh.

Just then, one of Y/N's block mates, Miller, spotted them from across the restaurant. "Yo, Miller. What are you two doing here? Are you like having some lover's quarrel?" he called out, his tone teasing.

Annoyed, Y/N grabbed Paige's arm and hastily fled from the scene, wanting to escape the embarrassment.

Paige couldn't help but overhear what Y/N's blockmate said. "Holy shit, it wasn't a no. They were really dating," he exclaimed to his friends.

Paige's heart sank as the reality of the situation sank in. "Now we're really doomed," she muttered under her breath, realizing the potential fallout from the misunderstanding.