#i need to blink for a moment the moment i breathe there's a new update

[jangmi-latte]

if we're alternating artists for the manga,,, that means pomefiore and diasomnia is POSSIBLY getting sumire kowono (heartslabyul and octavinelle artist) and scarabia and ignihyde is getting oda suzuka (savanaclaw artist).

and wtf do yOU MEAN OCTAVINELLE IS ALREADY COMING SO POMEFIORE MANGA NEXT YEAR?????? WAIT HOW FAST ARE WE FUCKING GOING

[reidmarieprentiss]

i love you

Summary: Spencer falls in love with a famous singer, Spencer also has a hard time controlling his jealousy.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x pop star! fem!reader

Category: fluff, angst

Warnings/Includes: insecurity, cheating accusations, arguing, lack of trust, regrets, being famous, paparazzi, bestie Billie Eilish

Word count: 13k

a/n: helloooo hehe sorry about the angst again butttt i have ideas for a happier story line if y'all want a part 2 !!!!

update! part two is here!!!

main masterlist

February, 2006

In the heart of New York City, where towering skyscrapers meet the pulse of creativity, you find yourself stepping into the sleek, modern office of a prestigious publishing house. Today’s interview isn’t just any ordinary sit-down; it’s being conducted by the chief editor themselves—a rare honor reserved for only the most influential figures. As one of the world’s most celebrated pop stars, the stakes are high, and they’ve rolled out the red carpet for you, eager to delve into the stories behind your meteoric rise and iconic career. 

You had barely wrapped up your latest thought, answering a question about the creative process behind your new album, when a soft knock interrupted the flow of your interview. The chief editor, who had been so focused on your words, paused, a small frown creasing their brow as the door cracked open. 

The person who had greeted you and your team at the front desk earlier poked their head into the room, eyes wide with apology and urgency. “Hi! I’m so sorry, but we have two agents here from the FBI. They say they are working on a case that could involve some of our publications. What should I tell them?”

The editor’s eyes flicked back to you, concern knitting their features together. “Y/N, I am so so sorry. Do you mind if I step out for one second?”

You offered them a reassuring smile, waving a hand dismissively. “No! Not at all! Take care of whatever you need.”

“Thank you, thank you,” the editor breathed, clearly relieved as they stood and followed the receptionist out of the room, leaving you alone for the moment.

After a few minutes, they returned, apologizing profusely for the interruption, but you could see the tension still etched on their face, the slight edge of distraction in their voice. The rest of the interview passed without incident, but once it wrapped up, you couldn’t shake the curiosity bubbling inside you.

As you gathered your things, you politely declined their offer to show you to the bathroom. "Thank you, but I think I can manage," you said with a smile, wanting to stretch your legs a bit and maybe take a peek at the source of the earlier interruption.

After wandering down the corridor for a minute or two, it became clear that you had no idea where you were going. The building was far larger than you anticipated, with identical doors lining each hallway. You turned a corner, hoping you were heading in the right direction when you noticed a room with an open door.

Inside, two men stood by a large table filled with neatly organized files and documents. Their presence was commanding, unmistakably official, and more than a little bit attractive. One was tall, with broad shoulders and dark hair, his expression serious as he sifted through a stack of papers. The other, slightly younger, had sharp, intelligent eyes behind a pair of glasses, his movements precise as he carefully handled what appeared to be an older document.

You hesitated for a moment, not wanting to intrude on whatever important work they were doing, but your need to find the bathroom was becoming more pressing by the second.

Taking a deep breath, you stepped into the doorway and cleared your throat softly. “Hi! I’m sorry to bother you, but do you happen to know where the bathroom is?”

Both men looked up, their attention snapping to you as if they had been pulled out of deep concentration. Aaron Hotchner blinked in surprise, his composed demeanor faltering just slightly before he offered a polite, practiced smile. “No bother at all. I don’t believe I know where the bathroom is. Reid?”

Spencer Reid barely looked up from his work, his attention already drifting back to the papers in front of him. “Out the door to the left, down the hall, last door on the right,” he mumbled, his voice soft and almost distracted.

You couldn’t help the smile that tugged at your lips. Oh, he was pretty—and not immediately bowled over by your presence? You liked a challenge. “Oh! Thank you!” you chirped, your tone a bit more enthusiastic than you intended, but it wasn’t every day you met someone who didn’t immediately fall into the rhythm of your world.

After finding the bathroom, you couldn’t shake the thought of that cute, nerdy man with the sharp intellect and distracted charm. You quickly texted your assistant, Dylan—who was also your brother—asking him to pick up two coffees and some pastries, and to meet you on the floor where you were currently stationed.

When the delivery arrived, you approached the room where the men were working once again. You knocked lightly on the doorframe to announce your presence. “Hi! Thanks again for helping me out earlier. I thought maybe you two could use a little pick-me-up,” you said, holding out the goods with a bright smile.

Aaron looked at the offering with a hint of suspicion, his eyes narrowing slightly as he assessed your motives. “Wow. That’s very kind of you, thank you,” he said, his voice polite but guarded.

You quickly picked up on the hesitation and offered an explanation. “Sorry, I know it’s a little odd to get gifts from strangers. I just like paying it forward. You helped me, so I do something kind for you, and maybe you’ll do something kind for someone else later.”

Aaron’s expression softened at your explanation, a hint of warmth creeping into his eyes. “I like that. Thank you again,” he said, this time with more sincerity.

Meanwhile, Spencer still hadn’t fully reacted, offering only a tight-lipped smile and a nod of acknowledgment. You handed the coffee and pastry to Aaron before turning your attention to Spencer, who was already drifting back into his work. “Here,” you said, holding out the coffee to him.

“Thanks,” he mumbled, glancing up briefly. “Any sugar?”

“Uh, no, just black. I’m sure there’s some in the break room…?” you offered, tilting your head slightly in question.

He nodded again, his attention already starting to slip back to the papers in front of him. “Alright… I’ll just put this here,” you said, placing his pastry on top of what appeared to be his satchel, casually slipping a note underneath the paper bag. You couldn’t help but smile to yourself—maybe he’d notice, or maybe he wouldn’t. Either way, you’d planted a seed of curiosity in that brilliant mind of his, and that was enough for now.

—

Spencer's eyes lingered on the note, the neat, playful handwriting contrasting sharply with the serious documents scattered across his desk. He blinked a few times, trying to piece together the brief interaction he had with you earlier, but the details were frustratingly fuzzy. He’d been so engrossed in his work that he barely registered your presence, let alone your face. The only thing he could recall was the faint scent of coffee and the sound of your cheerful voice, but nothing more.

Across the room, Hotch was watching the scene unfold with a faint smile, his amusement barely concealed. He hadn’t known who you were either, but he found the situation oddly endearing. Spencer, brilliant and socially awkward as he was, seemed utterly baffled by the note in his hand. Hotch couldn’t help but chuckle, shaking his head at his younger colleague’s bewilderment.

“Staring at it won’t help,” Hotch advised, his tone light. “Maybe you should call?”

“I don’t know her,” Spencer replied, his brow furrowing as he continued to scrutinize the note as if it held some hidden meaning he was missing.

Hotch leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest with a knowing look. “You could get to know her,” he suggested, the amusement in his voice evident. “She obviously went out of her way to reach out to you. It’s not every day someone leaves their number like that.”

Spencer hesitated, his mind racing through all the possible outcomes of making that call. On one hand, he was intensely curious about you—who you were, why you’d left the note, and what you’d seen in him that made you interested. On the other hand, the idea of reaching out to someone he didn’t know, especially in such a personal way, was daunting.

But Hotch had a point. He always did.

Spencer glanced down at the note again, reading the words over and over as if they would change with each pass. 

Give me a call when you’re not so busy? Promise I’m more interesting than some old prints <3 Xxx xxx xxxx.

There was a lightness to your words, a promise of something different, something outside the usual routine that consumed him. Maybe, just maybe, it was worth the risk to find out what that was. Taking a deep breath, Spencer carefully folded the note and slipped it into his pocket, the decision made, even if he didn’t fully understand it yet.

Hotch’s smile widened just a fraction as he watched Spencer’s resolve take shape. “Good choice,” he said simply, returning his attention to his own work, leaving Spencer to contemplate when—and how—he’d make that call.

—

March, 2006

Life as a pop star was nothing short of chaotic, especially when you were barely 24 and on the brink of releasing yet another album. Your days were a whirlwind of recording studios, press conferences, interviews, and the constant need to stay relevant on social media. It was a lot to handle, but having your brother, Dylan, by your side made it all feel a little more manageable. He was your rock, keeping things running smoothly even when the demands of fame threatened to overwhelm you.

Currently, you found yourself back in LA, swept up in a relentless schedule that Dylan had meticulously organized. The days blurred together—back-to-back interviews, recording sessions that stretched into the early hours of the morning, and brief moments snatched away for obligatory social media posts. In the midst of all this, the memory of the mystery man you’d given your number to in New York had faded into the background. It was easier not to dwell on it, to keep your expectations low. After all, not everyone was going to reciprocate your interest, and you’d learned early on in life not to take things personally.

Weeks passed, and your mind was consumed by the demands of your career. The mystery man became just that—a mystery you tucked away, almost forgotten amidst the chaos. That is, until one quiet evening in your LA apartment, when you were finally able to unwind, your phone buzzed with a call from an unknown number. 

You stared at the screen, your instincts urging you not to answer. In your line of work, you never knew when or if your number might get leaked, and you weren’t about to take any chances. But as soon as the call ended, curiosity got the better of you. Who could it have been? You needed to know.

With a quick text, you reached out to your tech-savvy friend, Kade. Their enthusiasm for solving puzzles like this made them the perfect person to track down the owner of that mysterious number. Within minutes, Kade had the information—and a picture too. When the image popped up on your screen, your heart skipped a beat.

It was him. The mystery man from New York. The one you’d thought might never call.

Without a second thought, you hit the call button, your nerves tingling with anticipation as you listened to the line ring. Finally, after weeks of wondering, you were about to hear his voice again.

—

Spencer stared at his phone, the dial tone echoing in his ear before it abruptly ended, signaling that the call had gone unanswered. He felt a pang of disappointment, a weight settling in his chest that he couldn’t quite shake. He’d taken the leap, albeit a few weeks late, and now it seemed like it might have been for nothing. Maybe you’d forgotten him, moved on with your life. 

He let out a sigh, his shoulders slumping as he placed the phone back on the table. It had taken him so long to muster the courage to call you, to push past his own reservations and insecurities.  He leaned back in his chair, staring up at the ceiling, trying to convince himself that it was just a phone call, just a moment in time that didn’t have to mean anything. 

But deep down, he couldn’t help but feel a sense of loss, like he’d let something slip through his fingers before it even had a chance to begin. Spencer was no stranger to disappointment, but this time, it felt different. It felt like an opportunity he might never get back.

Spencer sat there, lost in his thoughts, the weight of his insecurities pressing down on him. His mind wandered through all the reasons why you might not have answered—maybe you really had forgotten him, maybe you had better things to do, or maybe he was just one of a hundred people you’d encountered that day. The more he thought about it, the more his doubts began to take root, spreading through him like a slow, creeping fog.

Then, breaking through the haze of his thoughts, his phone began to ring on the table in front of him. The sudden sound jolted him from his reverie, and for a moment, he just stared at the screen, as if unsure whether it was real. The number flashing across the screen was the same unknown one he’d dialed just moments ago. 

His heart raced, a mix of hope and disbelief surging through him. Could it be you? Had you actually called him back? He hesitated, his fingers hovering over the phone, almost afraid to answer. But the ringing continued, insistent and almost impatient, pulling him back into the present.

With a deep breath, he swiped to answer, bringing the phone to his ear. “Hello?” he said, his voice a little shaky, betraying the nervousness he felt.

“Hi! Is this Spencer?” Your voice came through the line, bright and unmistakably warm, instantly cutting through the tension that had been building within him. 

For a moment, Spencer was too stunned to respond, his mind scrambling to catch up with the fact that you were actually on the other end of the line. “Yes, it’s Spencer,” he finally managed to say, his voice steadier now, though his heart was still pounding.

“I’m so sorry I missed your call earlier!” you continued, your tone light and genuine. “I didn’t recognize the number when I saw it. But I’m really glad you called. I’ve been hoping to hear from you!”

Spencer’s doubts began to melt away, replaced by a growing sense of relief and excitement. You hadn’t forgotten him, after all. You were as curious about him as he was about you. “No, no, it’s fine,” he replied, a small smile tugging at his lips. “I wasn’t sure if you’d remember me.”

“Of course I remember you! How could I forget the cute, smart guy who helped me find the bathroom?” you teased lightly, your laughter filling the space between you and putting Spencer at ease.

Spencer couldn’t help but laugh along with you, the tension in his chest finally easing. “Well, I’m glad I could help,” he said, the smile now fully blossoming on his face. “So… what’s up?”

“I was wondering if you’d be free sometime soon? I’d love to actually get to know you better, maybe over coffee or something? I should be back in New York in a few weeks!” Your invitation was casual, but the sincerity in your voice was something Spencer couldn’t ignore.

“I would like that,” Spencer began, hesitating slightly before continuing. “Um, I actually live in Virginia…”

“Oh! That’s no problem, I can come to Virginia,” you replied without missing a beat, your tone so effortlessly confident and reassuring that it caught Spencer off guard.

He blinked, momentarily confused. What kind of life did you lead that allowed you such flexibility, such willingness to drop everything for a spontaneous trip? “Are you sure? It’s a three-hour train ride,” he said, the logical part of his brain struggling to grasp the ease with which you offered.

“No problem! I’m in Los Angeles right now, but I should have a bit of freedom in, say, two weeks? Would that work for you?” Your words were filled with a casualness that suggested this kind of thing was just another day in your life.

“Uh, yeah, I think so,” Spencer responded, still wrapping his mind around the idea that you were so eager to see him, despite the distance and the logistics involved.

“Amazing! Are weekends better for you?” you asked, the excitement in your voice making it clear how much you were looking forward to this.

“Yes, weekends are good,” Spencer confirmed, feeling a mixture of excitement and nervousness bubbling up inside him.

“Okay, Spencer,” you said, and he could practically hear the smile in your voice. “How about you pick a time and a café in Virginia for Saturday two weeks from now, and I’ll meet you there?”

“Uh, sure, I can do that,” Spencer replied, a bit overwhelmed but in the best way possible. He couldn’t believe this was actually happening.

“Great! I can’t wait,” you said, your enthusiasm palpable even over the phone. “I’ll be looking forward to it.”

As you ended the call with a cheerful goodbye, Spencer found himself staring at his phone again, but this time, the feeling of defeat was replaced with something entirely different—a sense of anticipation, of possibility. He had two weeks to figure out the perfect place to meet, and the thought of seeing you again made his heart race in a way he hadn’t felt in a long time.

—

Two weeks flew by, and soon you were landing in New York, excitement and nerves swirling inside you. Instead of flying to Virginia, you chose the train, savoring the slower pace after the constant rush of airports in your career.

As the train glided smoothly along, a calm settled over you, the rhythmic sound of the tracks providing a rare moment of peace. You were anxious about meeting someone new, but also excited—Spencer seemed down-to-earth and refreshingly different from the usual whirlwind of fame. And he was undeniably attractive, with a quiet, intelligent charm that had caught your attention.

Though your security detail accompanied you, the ride was peaceful. Most passengers didn’t mind having a pop star in their car; a few asked for autographs and pictures, which you happily provided. For the most part, you were left alone to chat with your security and enjoy the journey.

—

Arriving at the café was agonizing for Spencer. His nerves had been on edge the entire day, and he’d debated countless times whether he should even show up. The closer he got, the more his anxiety spiked. What if you didn’t show up? What if you were a soon-to-be unsub? His mind raced through every worst-case scenario, each one more unsettling than the last.

As he approached the café, he felt a knot tighten in his stomach. What if you just wanted to hurt him? What if you had forgotten about him entirely? The uncertainty gnawed at him, making each step feel heavier than the last. It took every ounce of his willpower to push through the doubt and walk through the door, hoping—desperately—that this wasn’t all a mistake.

But to his surprise, when Spencer finally entered the café, he saw you already there, seated at a small table near the window. You were early, a black coffee in front of you, with a canister full of sugar beside it, waiting to be poured. The sight of you, so relaxed and genuinely present, eased some of his lingering fears.

You had arrived first, intentionally choosing a slightly hidden booth and quietly informing the staff of your presence to avoid any unnecessary attention. It wasn’t about having a big head, but rather wanting to keep the date as normal as possible, just in case someone recognized you and caused a scene.

“Spencer! Hi!” you greeted him warmly, your smile lighting up the room as you waved him over.

“Hello,” he responded, raising a hand in a shy wave as he walked toward you, feeling a mix of relief and nervousness.

“It’s so good to see you!” you exclaimed, your enthusiasm evident. “Can I hug you?”

“Um,” Spencer hesitated for a split second, caught off guard by your openness. He cleared his throat, trying to shake off the nerves. “Yes, sure.”

You stood up and gently wrapped your arms around him, your embrace warm and welcoming. Spencer felt the tension in his shoulders start to melt away, the simple act reminding him that maybe, just maybe, this could turn out better than he’d feared as he wrapped his arms around your waist.

“So, I hope you don’t mind, but I went ahead and got you a coffee,” you said, gesturing to the cup in front of him. “I wasn’t sure how sweet you like it, so I just asked for a whole thing of sugar.”

Spencer couldn’t believe how thoughtful you were, the small gesture meaning more to him than you might realize. “Oh, thank you so much,” he replied, his voice soft with gratitude. “That’s perfect.” 

He felt a warmth in his chest, a sense of comfort in knowing that you had already taken the time to consider his preferences. It was a simple act, but to Spencer, it spoke volumes about the kind of person you were.

Spencer took a seat across from you, feeling the warmth from your earlier hug still lingering. You watched as he carefully added just the right amount of sugar to his coffee, stirring it with a quiet focus that made you smile.

"So," you began, breaking the silence with a gentle tone, "how have you been? I hope your day wasn't too stressful."

Spencer looked up, meeting your eyes with a small, appreciative smile. "It’s been… a bit nerve-wracking, to be honest. I wasn’t sure what to expect, but I’m really glad I came."

You leaned in slightly, your expression softening. "I’m glad you did too. I’ve been looking forward to this."

He felt a flutter in his chest at your words, the sincerity in your voice easing some of the anxiety that had been gnawing at him. “I’ve been looking forward to it too, though I was worried I might say something awkward.”

You laughed softly, the sound warm and reassuring. “Don’t worry about that. I like awkward—it’s honest. Besides, I’m probably just as nervous as you are.”

Spencer looked at you with surprise. “Really? You seem so confident.”

You shrugged, a playful smile tugging at your lips. “I guess I’ve had a lot of practice pretending to be. But trust me, I get nervous too, especially when I’m meeting someone new.”

There was a pause as your words sank in, making Spencer feel a bit more at ease. “Well, if it helps, you’re doing a great job of making me feel comfortable.”

Your smile widened, your eyes sparkling with warmth. “Good, that’s exactly what I was hoping for. I just want us to enjoy this, no pressure, just two people getting to know each other.”

Spencer nodded, feeling the last of his nerves start to fade away. “That sounds nice. I think we’re off to a pretty good start.”

You raised your coffee cup in a mock toast, your grin contagious. “Here’s to a good start, then.”

Spencer clinked his cup against yours, a genuine smile spreading across his face. “To a good start.”

After you both took a sip of your coffee, the conversation started to flow more naturally. Eventually, Spencer asked, “What do you do for work?”

It was at that moment you realized that Spencer genuinely didn’t know who you were—he wasn’t just pretending for your sake. “Oh! Um, I sing,” you replied, trying to keep your tone casual.

“You sing? That’s so great! What kind of music?” Spencer’s enthusiasm was genuine, and it warmed your heart.

“Mostly pop, but I’ve been called indie pop before too,” you explained, trying not to let your nerves show.

Spencer nodded thoughtfully. “I don’t listen to much pop, but I would love to come to one of your shows sometime. Where do you perform?”

You laughed nervously, not sure how to break it to him. “Ha ha, well, a little bit of everywhere? I could invite you next time I perform close by!”

“That would be great,” Spencer said with a dopey smile, clearly pleased with the idea.

“So, what do you do, Spencer?” you asked, eager to shift the focus.

“I work for the FBI,” he replied, almost bashfully.

Your eyes widened in surprise. “That is so much cooler!”

“Oh, well, thank you,” Spencer said, blushing slightly at the compliment.

“Do you take down bad guys?” you asked, leaning in with genuine curiosity.

Spencer chuckled softly. “Yeah, something like that. I’m a profiler, so I help catch criminals by understanding how they think.”

You couldn’t help but be impressed. “Wow, that’s amazing! You’re like a real-life Sherlock Holmes.”

Spencer’s eyes lit up at your words, a genuine smile spreading across his face. “I think that’s the best compliment I have ever gotten,” he said, clearly touched by the comparison.

You smiled back, pleased to see how much the compliment meant to him. “Well, it’s true. It sounds like you have a pretty incredible job.”

Spencer’s smile softened, a hint of shyness returning. “Thank you. It’s not always easy, but it’s rewarding.”

You could see the passion he had for his work, and it only made you more curious to learn about the man behind the profiler. “I have a feeling you’re really good at what you do,” you added, feeling more drawn to him with each passing moment.

As the conversation continued, you felt a growing connection with Spencer, charmed by his sincerity and humility. It was refreshing to talk to someone who saw you as just a person, rather than the pop star you usually were.

—

The date was, in a word, phenomenal. You and Spencer clicked in a way that felt effortless, the conversation flowing naturally, and the time slipping by unnoticed. By the end of it, you both agreed to meet again the next time you were close by. Spencer left the café feeling lighter, with a genuine smile on his face. From what he gathered, you traveled often for work but mostly lived in New York, which suited him just fine. The idea of seeing you again was something he looked forward to.

Monday morning came around, and as Spencer walked into the office, he barely had time to settle in before Derek Morgan sauntered over, a teasing grin on his face. “So, pretty boy,” Derek started, leaning against Spencer’s desk, “heard from Hotch you had a hot date this weekend.”

Spencer felt a blush creep up his neck, trying to play it cool as he adjusted his tie. “It wasn’t… I mean, yeah, I had a date,” he admitted, though he couldn’t suppress the small smile that tugged at his lips.

Derek raised an eyebrow, clearly enjoying this. “And? How’d it go? Are we gonna see wedding bells soon, or what?”

Spencer chuckled, shaking his head. “It went well, really well. We’re planning to meet again soon.”

Derek gave him a playful nudge. “Look at you, Pretty Boy, out here dating like a pro. So, what’s she like?”

Spencer hesitated, his mind racing back to the date. “She’s… incredible. Smart, funny, down-to-earth. I really enjoyed spending time with her.”

Derek nodded approvingly. “Sounds like a keeper. Just make sure you bring her around sometime so the rest of us can vet her properly.”

Spencer laughed, rolling his eyes. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

As Derek walked away, Spencer found himself thinking back to the date, the smile still lingering on his face. He had no idea what the future held, but for now, he was more than happy with the way things were unfolding.

—

May, 2006

Even though your schedule was packed, you managed to carve out moments in your day to text Spencer. It became a little ritual—finding those brief pauses between studio sessions, interviews, or flights to send him a quick message. Sometimes it was a simple Good morning! or Hope your day’s going well! Other times, you’d share something funny or interesting that happened, enjoying the way his replies always seemed to brighten your day.

Spencer, in turn, did his best to keep up with the texts, even when his work took him deep into intense cases. He found himself looking forward to your messages, the small glimpses into your life offering a welcome distraction from the often grim realities of his job. 

A month after your first date, the stars finally aligned again, and you both found yourselves free at the same time. Spencer had been looking forward to seeing you, but as luck would have it, the BAU team had already planned a bar night for that weekend. There was no way he could bow out without raising suspicions, so instead, he decided to invite you along.

He texted you with a mix of excitement and nerves.

Hey, I know we’ve been planning to meet up again, and I was wondering if you’d like to come out with me and my team this weekend? We’re having a bar night, and I’d really like for you to meet everyone.

That sounds like so much fun! I’d love to meet your team. Just tell me when and where, and I’ll be there.

Spencer smiled as he read your reply, feeling a sense of relief and excitement all at once. It wasn’t what he’d originally planned, but he realized that introducing you to his team felt like a natural next step. Plus, he was curious to see how you’d fit in with the people who had become like family to him.

As the weekend approached, Spencer found himself growing more and more eager to see you again. This time, he wasn’t just looking forward to spending time with you—he was excited to see how you’d interact with the people who meant so much to him.

—

You decided to meet Spencer at his apartment before heading to the bar, a decision that filled you with both excitement and nerves. The idea of seeing him again, of spending time with him in a more casual, intimate setting, was thrilling, but it also made your heart race with anticipation. You stood outside his door, taking a deep breath to steady yourself before finally mustering the courage to knock.

Meanwhile, your security team was stationed discreetly at the base of the building, sitting in their cars to avoid drawing attention. You didn’t want to alarm Spencer with an obvious security presence, especially since he didn’t know the full extent of your fame. They had already done a thorough sweep of the bar, learning all the exits and identifying the best spots to keep watch over you without intruding on your evening. 

As you waited for Spencer to answer the door, you couldn’t help but feel a flutter of nerves in your stomach. This was a big step—meeting his team, blending your two worlds, and trying to keep the balance between your public life and the private connection you were building with him. But as the door opened and you saw Spencer’s familiar, warm smile, those nerves began to ease. 

“Hey,” he greeted you, his voice soft and welcoming.

“Hey,” you replied, returning his smile, feeling a wave of relief wash over you. Being here with him, seeing that look in his eyes, reminded you why you were doing this. The rest of the world could wait; tonight was about the two of you. 

Spencer stepped aside to let you in, his apartment cozy and inviting. “You look great,” he said, his tone slightly shy as he took in your appearance.

“Thanks,” you replied, feeling your cheeks warm. “You do too.”

There was a brief pause, the two of you just standing there, enjoying the moment. Then, Spencer gestured towards the door. “Ready to go? The team’s probably already at the bar.”

“Yeah, let’s do this,” you said, feeling a surge of confidence as you linked your arm with his. 

—

As you and Spencer arrived at the bar, your nerves returned with full force. You had been feeling confident earlier, but now, faced with meeting his entire team, the reality of blending your world with his hit you hard. Spencer seemed to sense your hesitation, offering you a reassuring smile as he led you inside.

“Hey, guys, this is Y/N,” Spencer said, introducing you to his team with a hint of pride in his voice. “Y/N, this is my team.”

Before anyone else could say a word, Penelope Garcia practically barreled through the group, her eyes wide with excitement. “Oh. My. God. Y/N Y/L? I love your music! How did you two meet?”

You couldn’t help but smile at her enthusiasm, though it made you a little self-conscious. “Um, we met at a publishing house in New York,” you said, trying to keep things casual.

Spencer looked adorably confused as he turned to Penelope. “How do you know Y/N’s music?”

Penelope’s face lit up even more. “I’ve been a fan for years!”

You felt a warm blush creeping up your neck. “Thank you so much,” you said kindly, appreciating her support. But you were also eager to shift the focus away from your celebrity status. “But, uh, let’s not focus on me. I want to get to know all of you.”

The team exchanged glances, a mixture of curiosity and amusement playing on their faces. It was clear that they were intrigued by the dynamic between you and Spencer, but they respected your wish to keep the conversation light and inclusive.

“Fair enough,” Derek said with a grin, extending his hand to you. “I’m Derek. It’s nice to meet you.”

You shook his hand, relieved that the introductions were moving forward. “Nice to meet you too, Derek.”

As each member of the team introduced themselves, you felt the initial wave of nerves begin to subside. They were a friendly, welcoming group, and their easy going nature made it easier for you to relax. Spencer stayed close by your side, his presence comforting as you navigated this new and somewhat intimidating social landscape. 

Unfortunately, as pleasant as the evening had been, things took a sharp turn when it was time for you and Spencer to leave the bar. The moment you stepped outside, you were met with the overwhelming sight of a large crowd waiting by the entrance, their faces eager, some shouting your name. The flashes of cameras lit up the night as paparazzi swarmed, snapping photos in a chaotic frenzy.

“Y/N, come with us,” your head security guard, Emerson, called out firmly, their voice carrying over the noise. They were already moving to shield you from the crowd, their team efficiently surrounding both you and Spencer.

Spencer was beyond confused, his eyes wide as he took in the scene. The crowd, the screaming, the relentless camera flashes—it was all a world he had never experienced before. One moment, the two of you were having a quiet night out with his team, and the next, you were being hustled into a black SUV by your security detail.

As the vehicle sped away, leaving the chaos behind, Spencer finally found his voice. “Y/N, what the hell was that?” he asked, his tone filled with concern and bewilderment.

You let out a sigh, knowing this was something you’d have to explain sooner or later. “I’m so sorry, Spencer,” you began, turning to him with an apologetic look. “I didn’t mean for this to happen. Someone must have recognized me and tipped off the paparazzi.”

Spencer frowned, still trying to piece everything together. “Recognized you? But why would…?” He trailed off, the reality slowly dawning on him. “Wait… Are you famous?”

You nodded, feeling a mix of guilt and apprehension. “Yeah, I guess you could say that. That’s why there was a crowd outside—they wanted pictures and autographs, that sort of thing.”

Spencer sat back in his seat, processing what you had just told him. “I had no idea,” he said softly, a hint of shock still in his voice. 

“I know,” you admitted, your voice tinged with regret. “I didn’t want it to be a big deal between us. I just wanted you to get to know me for who I am, not because of my career.”

He looked at you, his expression a mix of understanding and concern. “Y/N, I don’t care about any of that. I just… I wasn’t prepared for this.”

“I understand,” you said, reaching out to gently take his hand. “I should have been more upfront with you. I’m sorry you had to find out this way.”

Spencer squeezed your hand, his gaze softening. “It’s okay. I just need a little time to process everything.”

You nodded, grateful for his understanding. “Of course. We can talk more about it when you’re ready. I don’t want this to change anything between us.”

Spencer gave you a small smile, the initial shock beginning to fade. “It won’t,” he assured you. “I still want to get to know you, the real you. We’ll figure this out together.”

His words brought you a sense of relief, and as the car continued to drive away from the chaotic scene, you felt a renewed sense of hope for what lay ahead.

— 

The security team swiftly brought you and Spencer to a hotel with a private parking garage, ensuring that you wouldn’t be followed or harassed any further. It was a relief to be away from the chaos, but you couldn’t help feeling bad for dragging Spencer into your world so abruptly.

“I’m sorry, Spencer,” you said softly as you both exited the car. “Do you mind hanging out here for a bit until everything dies down? Or I can have Emerson take you home.”

“No, no, I want to stay with you,” he quickly replied, his sincerity evident.

You smiled, grateful for his support. “Okay.”

The two of you were guided up to the room where you’d be staying for the weekend. Your security team stood guard outside, some doing security sweeps to ensure the area was safe. Inside the room, the atmosphere was much calmer, but you could sense Spencer’s curiosity lingering.

“Alright, so tell me about it. How famous are you?” Spencer asked, his tone light but clearly curious.

You hesitated, not because you didn’t want to answer, but because you hated that question. Measuring your fame felt strange and impersonal. You valued your fans and appreciated the love they showed you, but fame was such a nebulous concept. “Uhhh…”

Spencer quickly backtracked, noticing your discomfort. “Sorry, that was a weird question.”

“No, it’s okay,” you reassured him. “I, uh, guess I have quite the fan base.”

Spencer nodded thoughtfully, sensing there was more to your reluctance. “Would it bother you if I looked you up when I get home?”

You couldn’t help but smile at his thoughtfulness. “That’s fine, Spencer. Just… don’t judge me too harshly.”

He looked at you with that soft, earnest expression that always seemed to put you at ease. “I would never.”

“I know, I know,” you said, letting out a small sigh. “It’s just—there’s a lot of nasty rumors, and bad things people say about me. Just, keep an open mind?”

Spencer’s gaze was steady as he reached out to take your hand. “Y/N, I like you. I don’t care what some idiot says about you on the internet, okay?”

His words were like a balm to your nerves, and you felt a warmth spread through you. “Okay. I like you too,” you admitted, feeling a surge of affection for the man sitting beside you.

Spencer’s eyes softened even further, his thumb brushing lightly over your knuckles. “Can I kiss you?” he asked, his voice low and full of hope.

“Please,” you whispered, your heart racing.

Spencer leaned in, his hand gently cradling your cheek as he pressed his lips to yours in a tender, heartfelt kiss. The world outside faded away, leaving just the two of you in that quiet, perfect moment. It was a kiss that spoke of understanding, of acceptance, and of something that had the potential to grow into something truly special.

And so began the beautiful relationship between you and Spencer. Every chance you got was spent together, each moment building the foundation for something truly special.

—

June, 2006

As you and Spencer strolled hand in hand through the grand halls of the Metropolitan Museum of Art, the world around you seemed to blur into the background. The marble floors echoed softly with your footsteps, and the air was filled with the quiet hum of visitors lost in their own reverence for the art surrounding them. But for you, the real masterpiece was right beside you, his voice animated as he guided you through the exhibits.

“And here,” Spencer said, his eyes lighting up as he gestured toward a stunning Greek statue, “we have a marble sculpture of Aphrodite, the goddess of love and beauty. What’s fascinating is that this particular piece is from the Hellenistic period, where artists began to explore more dynamic poses and emotions in their work.”

You looked up at the statue, trying to see it through Spencer’s eyes. “It’s incredible,” you murmured, squeezing his hand lightly. “You make it all sound so alive, like we’re stepping back in time.”

Spencer smiled, a soft blush coloring his cheeks. “I’ve always loved how art can connect us to the past. It’s like a conversation across centuries, where every brushstroke or chisel mark tells a story.”

You could hear the passion in his voice, and it made your heart swell with affection. “You know, I’ve been here before, but it’s never felt this… magical,” you admitted, looking up at him.

Spencer’s eyes softened as he gazed back at you. “It’s not just the art,” he said quietly. “It’s who you’re experiencing it with.”

You felt a warm blush rise to your cheeks, his words sending a flutter through your heart. “You’re amazing, you know that?” you said with a smile.

He chuckled, shaking his head slightly. “I’m just a guy who likes art history,” he replied modestly.

“And I’m just a girl who’s falling for that guy who likes art history,” you teased, leaning in to rest your head on his shoulder as you continued your walk.

Spencer’s smile grew as he squeezed your hand a little tighter. “Then I’d say we’re both pretty lucky.”

—

August, 2006

The weekend in Los Angeles felt like a breath of fresh air, a pause from the relentless pace of your lives. The sun was warm against your skin as you and Spencer strolled along the beach, the Pacific Ocean stretching out endlessly before you. The sound of the waves crashing against the shore provided a soothing backdrop to the easy conversation that flowed between you.

“I never imagined LA would be so…relaxed,” Spencer remarked, his gaze drifting out over the water. “I always thought of it as this fast-paced, high-energy place.”

You smiled, nudging him playfully with your shoulder. “It can be, but there’s a whole other side to it too. It’s not all about Hollywood and traffic. Sometimes, it’s just about finding those quiet corners where you can breathe.”

Spencer nodded, looking thoughtful. “I can see why you like it here. It’s like the city has this dual nature—busy and vibrant, but also peaceful when you know where to look.”

“Exactly,” you agreed, your hand slipping into his. “I wanted to show you that part of my life, the part that isn’t all about work and appearances. Just… the real me.”

He turned to you, his expression softening. “I like the real you. I mean, I liked you before, but getting to see this side of you…it makes me feel closer to you.”

Your heart swelled at his words, and you squeezed his hand gently. “I feel the same way. It’s nice to just…be with you, without any distractions.”

The two of you continued walking, the sand shifting beneath your feet as the conversation turned to lighter topics. You talked about everything from your favorite movies to childhood memories, finding joy in the simplicity of sharing these little pieces of your lives.

Later, as the sun dipped low on the horizon, you found a cozy spot at one of your favorite hidden restaurants, tucked away from the bustling streets. The atmosphere was intimate, the kind of place where you could lose yourself in conversation without worrying about being recognized. The soft candlelight flickered between you, casting a warm glow over the table.

“This place is amazing,” Spencer said as he looked around, taking in the rustic charm of the restaurant. “It’s like a little secret.”

You grinned, pleased that he liked it. “It’s one of my favorites. The food is great, but it’s the atmosphere that keeps me coming back. It’s like a little escape from everything.”

As the evening wore on, you both savored the delicious food and each other’s company, the rest of the world fading into the background. The conversation flowed easily, and you found yourself laughing more than you had in a long time, Spencer’s wit and intelligence making every moment more enjoyable.

By the time you made your way back to the beach for a final stroll under the stars, you felt a deep sense of contentment. The city’s vibrant energy had melted into the tranquility of the night, and it was just the two of you, walking hand in hand along the shore.

“I could get used to this,” Spencer said softly, his thumb brushing over the back of your hand.

“Me too,” you replied, leaning into him as you walked. “I wish we could stay here forever.”

Spencer smiled, a serene look on his face as he glanced down at you. “We can always come back. Maybe this could be our little escape.”

You looked up at him, your heart fluttering at the thought. “I’d like that.”

—

September, 2006

Spencer stood in the audience, his heart swelling with pride as he watched you perform, captivated by the way you commanded the stage. The lights bathed you in a warm glow, and your powerful, confident presence mesmerized the entire crowd. To Spencer, it was like seeing a new side of you, one that was awe-inspiring yet deeply connected to the person he knew so well—the one who shared quiet moments and deep conversations with him.

As the final notes rang out and the audience erupted in applause, Spencer clapped with fervor, pride evident in his eyes. After the show, you headed backstage, your adrenaline still high, but the moment you saw Spencer waiting for you, all the excitement of the stage melted away. His eyes shone with admiration, and in that instant, nothing else mattered but you.

Without a word, he pulled you into a tight hug, holding you close as if he never wanted to let go. “You were incredible,” he whispered in your ear, his voice full of emotion.

You smiled against his shoulder, the warmth of his embrace grounding you after the high of the performance. “Thank you,” you murmured, pulling back just enough to look into his eyes. “I’m so glad you were here.”

Spencer’s gaze was intense, filled with a mixture of awe and love. “I wouldn’t have missed it for the world,” he said softly, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “Seeing you up there, it was… it was something else. I’m so proud of you.”

Your heart swelled at his words, the sincerity in his voice making you feel even closer to him. “It means everything to me that you’re proud,” you replied, your hand resting against his chest.

He leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. “I am. More than you know.”

—

November, 2006

Visiting Diana Reid in Las Vegas was a deeply personal step for both you and Spencer, a gesture that spoke volumes about how much you meant to him. The significance of the visit wasn't lost on you, and as you arrived at the care facility where Diana lived, you could feel the weight of the moment settling in.

Spencer’s hand held yours tightly as he led you inside, nervousness and pride evident in his eyes. You knew how important his mother was to him, and the fact that he was introducing you to her was a clear sign of the depth of his feelings. As you walked through the halls, you felt the butterflies in your stomach, but the steady pressure of Spencer’s hand in yours reassured you.

When you finally reached Diana’s room, Spencer paused, taking a deep breath before gently knocking on the door. “Mom, it’s Spencer,” he called softly, his voice filled with a tenderness that made your heart ache.

The door opened, and there she was—Diana Reid, with a warm smile that instantly made you feel at ease. “Spencer, my sweet boy,” she greeted, her eyes lighting up as she saw him. Then her gaze shifted to you, curiosity and kindness mingling in her expression. “And you must be Y/N. I’ve heard so much about you.”

Spencer squeezed your hand, his nerves clearly still present, but his voice was steady as he spoke. “Mom, this is Y/N. I wanted you to meet her.”

You stepped forward, offering a genuine smile. “It’s so nice to finally meet you, Diana.”

Diana’s smile widened as she reached out to take your hand in hers. “The pleasure is mine, dear. Spencer speaks so highly of you.”

Diana welcomed you with warmth, her kindness evident in every word. It was clear how much Spencer loved her, reflected in the way he cared for her.

As the three of you chatted, you found it easy to connect with Diana—her sharp wit and stories filled the room with laughter. Spencer listened intently, his eyes often on his mother, revealing the deep bond they shared.

At one point, as Diana shared a funny childhood story about Spencer, you glanced at him and saw the soft, affectionate smile on his face. It made your heart swell with love for both him and the woman who raised him.

Throughout the visit, Spencer's hand never left yours, a silent sign of pride in introducing you to his mother. The connection you built with Diana added another layer to the bond you and Spencer were creating, one that grew stronger with each moment.

As the visit came to an end, Diana hugged you warmly, whispering in your ear, “Take care of him, won’t you?”

You hugged her back, your voice soft but sincere. “I will, Diana. I promise.”

When you and Spencer left the care facility, his arm wrapped around your shoulders, you couldn’t help but feel a deep sense of gratitude. Meeting Diana had been a significant step, one that solidified the love and trust you and Spencer shared. And as you walked together under the bright Las Vegas sky, you knew that your relationship had grown even stronger, rooted in the love and connections you were building together.

—

December, 2006

The final piece fell into place when Spencer met your family in New York. Both of you had been a little nervous, knowing how important this moment was, but those nerves quickly dissolved as your family welcomed him with open arms. They were eager to meet the man who had captured your heart, and Spencer, with his quiet charm and genuine kindness, fit in seamlessly.

You watched with a smile as he effortlessly engaged in conversation with your parents, his gentle demeanor putting them at ease. He listened intently to your father’s stories and shared thoughtful insights that sparked lively discussions. Your mother was instantly taken with his manners and the way he looked at you with such clear affection.

It was your brother, though, who really put Spencer to the test, teasing him playfully and cracking jokes that had the room roaring with laughter. Spencer, to your delight, not only kept up but even managed to throw in a few quips of his own, earning him a slap on the back and a hearty laugh from your brother. 

As you observed them all interacting, a warm feeling settled over you. Seeing Spencer so naturally integrated into your family, like he had always been a part of it, made your heart swell with happiness. You knew then, without a doubt, that he had become an irreplaceable part of your life.

Later that evening, as you walked hand in hand through the quiet streets of your old neighborhood, you turned to him with a smile. “I think they love you,” you said softly, leaning into his side.

Spencer glanced down at you, his eyes full of warmth. “I was more nervous about meeting them than I was about joining the FBI,” he admitted with a small chuckle. “But your family is wonderful. I feel really lucky.”

You stopped walking, turning to face him fully. “I’m the lucky one,” you said, your voice filled with emotion. “You mean so much to me, Spencer, and seeing you get along with my family… it just makes everything feel even more right.”

He pulled you into a gentle hug, his arms wrapping around you protectively. “I feel the same way,” he whispered, his breath warm against your ear. “This—us—feels right.”

—

June, 2007

It wasn’t until you and Spencer had been together for a year that the first crack in the armor began to form. A year ago, Spencer had kept his promise and looked you up online. But what he didn’t tell you was how much he hated what he found. The dating rumors, the fan crushes, the obsession from your fans—he saw it all, and it gnawed at him. The jealousy simmered beneath the surface, his insecurities festering as he watched the world fawn over you.

At first, Spencer’s comments seemed harmless enough—slight jabs and subtle jokes about the rumors and fan pages. You thought he was just teasing, playing along with the absurdity of it all. But over time, the tone changed. The jokes became sharper, more pointed, until you couldn’t ignore the underlying resentment.

The breaking point came when you and Billie Eilish, a close friend since the beginning of your career, collaborated on a song for her new album. The promo involved interviews, social media posts, and what Spencer hated the most—a chicken shop date. The chemistry between you and Billie was undeniable, something that couldn’t be faked. Watching the video, Spencer felt his stomach churn with jealousy, convinced there was something more between you two.

Unable to keep his feelings in check, Spencer picked a fight over it. The tension that had been building for months finally erupted, his words laced with bitterness. “You and Billie looked like more than just friends in that video,” he snapped, unable to hide the hurt in his voice.

You stared at him, stunned. “Spencer, we’re just friends. You know that.”

He shook his head, frustration clear in his eyes. “It didn’t look like that to me. Everyone sees the way you two are together, and I can’t stand it.”

The pain in his voice cut deep, and you realized how much he had been holding back. “Spencer, there’s nothing between us but friendship. You have to believe me.”

But the damage was done. The fight opened up the insecurities Spencer had tried so hard to suppress, and the trust that had always been the foundation of your relationship began to waver. As the argument continued, it became clear that this wasn’t just about Billie—it was about everything Spencer had been silently battling for months. The dating rumors, the fans, the world’s obsession with you—it had all taken its toll, and now it was threatening to tear you apart.

—

August, 2007

You and Spencer were lost in a heated makeout session, the tension that had been building between you two finally dissolving as you straddled his lap on your couch in New York. It had been too long since you’d had a moment like this—no schedules, no distractions, just the two of you reconnecting in the way that always felt the most natural. Spencer’s hands roamed over your body, and you could feel the urgency in his touch, the desire to be close to you after so much time apart.

Just as things were beginning to escalate, your phone started ringing. You ignored it, too wrapped up in the moment to care who might be calling. After all, the most important person in your life was right here with you. But the ringing didn’t stop. It kept going, over and over, cutting through the haze of your desire and pulling you back to reality.

Spencer pulled back, clearly annoyed by the persistent interruption. His breath was ragged, his frustration evident as he grabbed your phone from the coffee table. He glanced at the screen, and his expression quickly shifted from irritation to something darker—anger mixed with jealousy. 

“Seriously?” he said, his voice dripping with venom as he flipped the phone to show you the screen. 

You looked at the image and felt your stomach drop. It was a picture of you and Billie, taken during a trip when the two of you had gone swimming under a waterfall, wearing little more than bathing suits. Spencer had once liked looking at that picture, a reminder of the carefree times you’d shared. But now, that same image seemed to fuel his insecurities, the sight of you and Billie together igniting a seething jealousy within him.

“Spencer…” you began, but he cut you off, his eyes blazing with anger.

“Why is she calling you? Now, of all times?” he demanded, the hurt in his voice unmistakable.

“She’s just a friend, Spencer,” you said softly, reaching out to touch his arm, but he pulled away slightly, the distance between you suddenly feeling like a chasm.

“Is she, though?” he shot back, his tone laced with bitterness. “Because it sure doesn’t feel that way. Not when she’s always there, in your life, interrupting us even now.”

You could see the pain behind his words, the way his jealousy had been festering for far too long. “Spencer, you’re the one I’m here with. You’re the one I love,” you tried to reassure him, but it was clear that the tension between you two wasn’t going to dissolve as easily as it had built up.

The moment that had been so full of passion just minutes ago now felt heavy with unresolved emotions. The weight of Spencer’s jealousy and your own guilt for not addressing it sooner pressed down on you both, leaving you to wonder how you could mend the growing rift between you.

—

October, 2007

The article was nothing more than a piece of sensationalized gossip, a tabloid’s attempt to stir the pot with baseless claims. It wasn’t even on your radar as you prepared for your upcoming tour of the Americas, your mind focused on rehearsals, logistics, and the excitement of performing for your fans. But Spencer had seen it. And instead of brushing it off as the ridiculous fabrication it was, he believed it.

His rational mind—the one you had always admired—had been overwhelmed by months of festering insecurities and jealousy. The TMZ article, with its blurry, barely discernible photo of two women who vaguely resembled you and Billie, was the final straw. In his mind, it was proof that his worst fears were true.

Spencer’s heart raced as he stared at the article, his eyes blurring with tears. The image, though unclear, fed into his paranoia. He could barely think straight, his emotions a chaotic storm of anger, hurt, and betrayal. He grabbed his phone, his hands trembling as he dialed your number. You were in Brazil, preparing for the first leg of your tour, oblivious to the storm brewing back home.

When you answered, you were met with a voice you hardly recognized—sharp, cold, and filled with rage. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

Spencer had never sworn at you before. In fact, you weren’t even sure you’d ever heard him use the word “fuck” at all. The venom in his tone made your stomach drop, a cold dread seeping into your veins.

“What happened, baby?” you asked, trying to keep your voice steady, but the unease was already gnawing at you.

“Don’t ‘baby’ me!” he snapped, his voice breaking with emotion. “You made out with Billie in public, and you got caught. I have photo evidence that you’re cheating on me now. I’ve known for months! Months! How could you lie to my face?”

His words hit you like a punch to the gut. You could hear the pain and betrayal in his voice, but all you felt was a profound sense of disbelief and heartache. “Spencer, what are you talking about? That’s not true. I would never—”

“Stop lying!” he interrupted, his voice thick with tears. “I saw the picture! How could you do this to me? To us?”

Your heart broke at the sound of his despair, but the accusation, the deep mistrust, cut even deeper. “Spencer, I didn’t do anything. There isn’t a picture because I’m not cheating on you,” you pleaded, your voice cracking under the weight of your own emotions.

But Spencer was too far gone, his mind too clouded by jealousy and doubt. “I can’t believe anything you say anymore,” he whispered, his voice filled with resignation. “I thought we had something real, but now… I don’t even know who you are.”

The fight that followed was explosive, both of you hurling words that only deepened the wounds already festering between you. Every attempt you made to explain, to reassure him, was met with anger and disbelief. Spencer’s trust in you had been shattered, and no amount of reasoning could bring him back from the edge.

Finally, you couldn’t take it anymore. The constant jealousy, the mistrust, the way he had let a baseless article destroy the bond you had worked so hard to build—it was too much. “I can’t do this, Spencer,” you said, your voice trembling with emotion. “I love you, but I can’t live like this. I can’t be in a relationship where I’m constantly accused and doubted. It’s tearing me apart.”

There was a long, painful silence on the other end of the line, and then, in a voice that was barely above a whisper, Spencer said, “Maybe we both deserve better than this.”

Tears streamed down your face as you realized what had just happened. “Goodbye, Spencer,” you choked out, hanging up before he could say anything else.

As you stood there, staring at the phone in your hand, the enormity of what you had just done hit you like a tidal wave. You had ended things with the man you still loved deeply, because the relationship had become a minefield of jealousy and mistrust. It was the hardest decision you’d ever made, and the pain of it felt unbearable.

You were heartbroken, knowing that despite everything, your feelings for Spencer hadn’t changed. But the relationship had become toxic, and you couldn’t continue down that path. As you tried to pull yourself together, preparing to go on stage and perform as if your world hadn’t just crumbled, you couldn’t help but wonder if either of you would ever truly heal from this.

—

Spencer sat in the silence of his apartment, feeling like a shell of the person he once was. The shock of what had just happened left him numb, his mind struggling to grasp the reality of it all. You were gone, and it was his fault. 

—

In the months that followed, Spencer couldn’t escape the crushing weight of what he had done. He replayed every argument, every moment of doubt, and came to a painful realization: he was the bad guy in this story. 

He watched as your tour progressed, each new headline a reminder of what he had lost. The press coverage was relentless, but what struck him most was how your relationship with Billie remained the same—close, supportive, but nothing more. There was no secret romance, no hidden agenda. Just the friendship that had always been there, and that he had been too blinded by jealousy to see for what it was.

Then, the truth about the photo came out. It wasn’t you. It wasn’t even Billie. It was a completely different couple—Phoebe Bridgers and her girlfriend. The realization hit him like a punch to the gut. He had destroyed everything over a lie, over a distorted perception fueled by his own insecurities.

Spencer spiraled into self-loathing, he knew he had been an asshole—an irrational, emotional, accusatory, jealous, ignorant asshole. And now, he had to live with the consequences of his actions, knowing that he had let the best thing in his life slip through his fingers. 

—

June, 2008

“So, Y/N… you just finished the first leg of your tour, how does it feel?” the interviewer asked, leaning forward with genuine curiosity.

You couldn’t help but smile, the emotions from the tour still fresh in your mind. “Oh, it feels amazing! The energy from the crowds, the love and support—it was incredible. I miss them all so much already. Honestly, I wish I could go back and say thank you again to every single person who showed up for me and made this possible. They’re the reason I get to do what I love, and I’m so grateful for that.”

“Isn’t she great?” the interviewer exclaimed, prompting cheers from the live audience. After the applause died down, the interviewer leaned in with a mischievous grin. “I have to know, if you’re comfortable, what happened to that sexy string bean you used to have on your arm?”

Spencer, who had been half-listening to your interview as usual, suddenly found himself on high alert. His heart pounded in his chest as he waited for your response.

You shifted slightly in your seat, a small, wistful smile on your face. “Oh… um, we separated. But I still care for him deeply and hope he’s doing well.”

The interviewer nodded sympathetically before pressing on, “Are you seeing anyone new?”

Spencer held his breath, not sure if he wanted to hear your answer.

You shook your head, your smile more focused now. “No, I’m not. Just focusing on the tour right now! It’s hard work!”

The interviewer grinned. “I bet it is! Keeping busy with something you love is the best way to go.”

Spencer released a breath he’d been holding, a mixture of relief and lingering regret washing over him. He hadn’t moved on either.

—

July, 2008

(we pretend this is our song for the sake of the plot <3)

You released a few new songs before the second leg of your tour started, wanting to keep things fresh and exciting for your fans. Among the tracks was a deep cut, a raw and emotional song about your love for Spencer. It was a piece of your heart, a reflection of the pain, regret, and lingering love that still existed despite everything that had happened.

Spencer, however, had stopped listening to your music after the breakup. Every song felt like a reminder of what he had lost, especially the love songs that once brought him joy. The melodies that used to connect you two now only deepened his regret, making him avoid your music altogether.

But when Garcia heard your new song, she knew immediately that Spencer needed to hear it. Without hesitation, she sent it directly to him, attaching a message that read: You need to listen to this. Trust me.

Spencer hesitated when he saw the message. He knew it would hurt, but something made him press play. As the song played, the lyrics washed over him, each word piercing through the wall he had tried to build around his emotions. It was as if you were speaking directly to him, baring your soul in a way that was both beautiful and heartbreaking.

As the song ended, Spencer sat in silence, the weight of your words pressing down on him. He realized that despite everything, the love you had shared was still there, buried beneath the pain and mistakes. The song was a painful reminder of the depth of your connection, and it left him wondering if there was any way to mend what had been broken. 

But as much as he wanted to reach out, he knew that no apology or explanation could undo the hurt he had caused. Spencer felt lost, grappling with the knowledge that he had loved you—and still did—yet had let his own insecurities destroy the best thing in his life.

—

Spencer had endured just about everything in his time at the FBI—being hit, kicked, shot, drugged, kidnapped—but never, in all those years, had anyone flicked him on the forehead. Until now. Derek Morgan’s fingers connected with a sharp flick, jolting Spencer out of his thoughts.

“We all know, Reid. Garcia sent the song to all of us,” Derek said, his voice laced with both sympathy and frustration. “I don’t know what you did, but I’m sure a flick doesn’t cover it.”

Spencer shook his head, the weight of guilt heavy on his shoulders. “It doesn’t,” he admitted, the truth settling like a stone in his stomach.

That night, Spencer decided he couldn’t ignore it any longer. Swallowing the last remnants of his pride, he picked up his phone and dialed your number. But when the automated message informed him that the line was no longer in service, his heart sank. You had changed your number. Still, the adrenaline coursing through his veins wouldn’t let him stop. He dialed the next number he knew by heart.

“Hello?” came the familiar voice on the other end.

“Dylan?” Spencer’s voice trembled slightly, betraying his nerves.

“Who is this?” Dylan’s tone was cold, guarded.

“Spencer Reid. Please, don’t hang up.”

“What do you want, asshole?”

Spencer flinched at the anger in Dylan’s voice, but he knew he deserved it. “I deserve that.”

“Damn right, you piece of shit. I watched my sister cry for months over you. And she didn’t do anything wrong—it was all you.”

“I know,” Spencer replied, his voice barely above a whisper.

“So let me repeat myself, what do you want?”

“I want to talk to her,” Spencer said, desperation creeping into his tone.

“No fucking way.”

“Please, I need to apologize.”

“She’s moved on, she doesn’t want to hear from you,” Dylan shot back, his words cutting through Spencer like a knife.

“She moved on?” Spencer’s voice wavered, the reality of those words hitting him hard.

“Yeah, most people would by now.”

Spencer felt a painful twist in his chest, but he pressed on. “I still… I still want to apologize.”

Dylan’s voice was ice-cold. “If you actually cared about her, you’d let her go.”

“Dylan—” Spencer tried to plead, but the line went dead, the dial tone echoing in his ear.

Spencer stared at the phone in his hand, the finality of it all crashing down on him. He had lost you, not just because of his mistakes but because he hadn’t been able to see what was in front of him until it was too late. 

—

“He called today.”

“What?” you asked, looking up in surprise.

“He called me.”

“Who?” But even as you asked, you felt a knot forming in your stomach, dreading the answer.

“Spencer.”

You froze. That name hadn’t been spoken around you in what felt like forever. Hearing it now sent a wave of emotions crashing over you, emotions you’d worked so hard to bury.

“Why?” you managed to ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Jackass said he wanted to apologize to you,” Dylan replied, his tone laced with disdain.

“After all this time?” The disbelief in your voice was evident, and you could hardly process what you were hearing.

“Mhm,” Dylan confirmed, watching your reaction carefully.

“What did you tell him?” you asked, already fearing the answer.

“That you’d moved on, that he should too,” Dylan said, his voice firm and protective.

“Oh.” The single word hung in the air between you, heavy with unspoken thoughts and lingering feelings.

Dylan’s voice softened, sensing your turmoil. “Y/N… he’s not worth it. He doesn’t deserve you.”

“I know,” you replied, forcing a smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes. “Thanks, Dylan. I’m going to bed. Goodnight. Love you.”

“Love you too,” Dylan said, his concern palpable even through the phone.

That night, as you lay in bed, you couldn’t help but wish your number hadn’t been leaked. You knew Spencer would have called you directly if he could have. And if you had answered? You might have at least heard him out, given him the chance to say the things he had left unsaid for so long.

But now, as you stared up at the ceiling, the what-ifs swirled in your mind, keeping you awake long into the night. You had moved on, or at least you told yourself you had. But the unresolved feelings, the remnants of a love that once meant everything, were still there, lurking just beneath the surface. And as much as you wanted to push them away, tonight they were impossible to ignore.

—

Hey Kade – think you can find a number for me? And not tell Dylan…

For sure, just give me a name and a city

God bless Kade. They didn't ask any questions, just worked their magic. Within minutes, Kade had sent you Spencer's number. You stared at it for a long moment, the screen glowing in the dim light of your room. Your thumb hovered over the call button, knowing that if you didn’t do it now, you’d lose your nerve.

With a deep breath, you tapped the number and pressed the phone to your ear. The ringing felt endless, each second adding to your nerves. But then, the line clicked, and his familiar voice came through.

“Spencer Reid.”

“Spencer Reid’s ex-girlfriend,” you said, your tone shy yet teasing, trying to mask the anxiety bubbling inside you.

There was a brief pause, then his voice, softer now, almost incredulous. “Y/N?”

“The one and only,” you replied, your heart racing as you tried to steady your voice.

There was another pause, this one filled with emotions that neither of you knew how to express just yet. 

“You called Dylan,” you said, your voice a mix of curiosity and caution.

“I know, your old number didn’t work,” Spencer replied, his tone tinged with regret.

“Someone leaked it…” you explained softly, the memory of that chaotic time flashing through your mind. But you quickly refocused, your heart pounding as you asked the question that had been weighing on you since you heard he’d tried to reach out. “Why were you calling, Spencer?”

“I love you,” he blurted out, the words raw and desperate.

“What?” The sudden confession caught you off guard, your heart skipping a beat as you tried to process what he had just said.

“Your song, i love you. Did you mean it? Do you still love me?” His voice cracked with vulnerability, and you could hear the pleading in his words, the desperation of a man who had realized too late what he had lost.

“Spencer…” You hesitated, the pain and love intertwined so tightly within you that it was hard to speak.

“I’m begging you, Y/N. Do you love me?” The vulnerability in his voice was palpable, and you could almost see him, his heart in his hands, waiting for your response.

“Of course I do,” you finally admitted, the truth spilling out before you could stop it. 

“Are you in New York?” Spencer asked, his voice filled with hope.

“Yes,” you replied, your heart racing as the conversation took a turn you hadn’t expected.

“Can I come see you?” His question hung in the air, the possibility of seeing him again making your pulse quicken.

“Right now?” you asked, still trying to catch up with the sudden shift in your emotions.

“Right now, I can be there by 4 pm,” he responded, the determination in his voice unmistakable.

“Okay,” you said, the word slipping out before you could second-guess yourself.

“Okay? Really?” Spencer’s voice was filled with a mix of surprise and relief.

“Yeah,” you confirmed, a small smile forming on your lips. “You remember where I live?”

“By heart,” he replied, and you could hear the warmth in his voice.

“See you soon, Spence,” you said softly, the familiar nickname bringing a wave of nostalgia and comfort.

“See you soon,” he echoed, and with that, the call ended, leaving you with a whirlwind of emotions and the realization that in just a few hours, Spencer would be standing at your door.

—

Spencer spent the entire train ride to New York mentally rehearsing what he would say to you. He went over every possible scenario, trying to find the right words to express everything he felt—the regret, the love, the longing. But as the train pulled into the station and he made his way to your apartment, his mind went blank. By the time he was standing at your door, all his carefully planned words had vanished.

His hand, seemingly moving on its own, raised to knock. The sound echoed in the quiet hallway, and within moments, the door swung open.

When you appeared in the doorway, his breath caught in his throat. You looked even more beautiful than he remembered, if that was even possible. 

“Hey,” you said softly, your eyes searching his, filled with emotions.

“Hey,” he replied, his voice barely above a whisper.

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

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[sailortongue]

Scandal

pairing: kenji sato x reader

summary: with the news of kenji's impending fatherhood -despite being unmarried- now public information, his PR team must come up with a way to salvage his reputation

wc: 1.5k

an: this is part 3!

navi | prev | series mlist

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“Giants Player Kenji Sato Seen with Mystery Woman” was the headline that greeted you one fateful morning. You skimmed the article as quickly as you could, wincing when you saw that there were even pictures included to back up the story that Kenji was officially off the market. And not just taken, oh no—but a father-to-be. 

You immediately called Kenji, your heart pounding with the realization that your face had been shared with the public. He picked up the phone, his voice still groggy with sleep as he answered.

“Someone wrote an article about us,” you blurted out, not bothering with pleasantries. “There's pictures of us leaving the clinic, and it says an anonymous source came forward with information that we’re expecting a child. How did they find out so quickly? Did you tell anyone?”

Kenji blinked slowly on the other side of the phone, taking in the rush of information you had spewed at him first thing in the morning. “Uh, no. Haven’t even told my dad yet. You?”

You were about to deny having told anyone, but then you remembered. Ami. But she wouldn’t do that to you, right? “Ami knows.”

Kenji sucked in a breath through his teeth, grimacing. “Do you think she’d . . .” he trailed off, not wanting to make any outright accusations. He knew Ami personally, and that she was a good friend, but he also knew that scandals meant more money for reporters and that Ami has her own child to take care of. 

“I don't want to believe she would,” you started. “But I'm not sure how anyone else could have possibly found out so quickly.”

Kenji hummed. “You should talk to her today. Or I can, if you’d prefer?”

You sighed. “I'll do it. It’s just not going to be an easy conversation.”

“Call me with an update later?”

“Yeah, of course.”

You ended your call with Kenji and wasted no time dialing Ami’s number, your stomach twisting itself into knots as you listened to the ringing. No answer. You tried again. And again.

 “Are you ok?” was the first thing she asked when she picked up. “It's not like you to call so many times.”

“Did you tell anyone about Kenji and me?”

She fumbled over her words for a moment, not expecting to be interrogated as soon as she answered your call. “Of course not. Has something happened?” she asked worriedly. You must have had a very good reason to sound so frantic. 

“There's an article,” you explained simply. “About Kenji and I. Are you sure you didn’t say something to anyone else? Even the smallest detail that might have been figured out?”

“Yn, I swear to you that I would never. I don't know how it got revealed so quickly, but I promise it wasn’t me.”

You sighed for the umpteenth time. “If not you then who?” You asked despondently, not truly expecting an answer from her but lamenting your misfortune all the same. 

“I don't know,” she answered softly, her voice laced with concern. 

Meanwhile, not even twenty minutes after you had called him, Kenji received yet another phone call. This time, it was his PR manager, Muramatsu. He groaned, knowing he was in for an earful. He answered the phone with all the false bravado he could muster, pretending he was none the wiser to the current state of his reputation. 

“Is it true‽” His manager demanded.

“Is what true?” Kenji asked, deciding to play stupid. 

“Did you or did you not get a girl pregnant?” 

“Straight to the point as always, Muramatsu,” Kenji chuckled, throwing off his covers when he decided to finally get out of bed since it seemed he wouldn’t be getting any more sleep this morning. 

“I'm serious, Ken. We need to get in front of this ASAP. Your reputation is on the line which means so are your brand deals.”

Kenji paled. He hadn’t thought of that little consequence. “Look, it was an accident, ok.”

“Dammit, Ken! What were you thinking? Were you thinking at all?”

“I was drunk! I didn't intend to do it, it just happened!”

Muramatsu was pinching the bridge of his nose in his office, wishing at this moment that he’d been hired by any other celebrity other than Ken Sato. “Is she a girlfriend we didn’t know about? Because we can work with that.”

Kenji remained silent, biting his lip while trying to think of a way to gently break the news that on top of accidentally knocking up a girl because he was drunk, she was also a woman he had never met prior to taking her home. “Picked her up at a bar,” Kenji mumbled. 

“What? Can you repeat that? I couldn’t hear you.”

“She was a random girl from the bar and I thought she was pretty and now she’s going to be the mother of my firstborn!” Kenji all but shouted into the phone, his stress levels rising rapidly as he paced the wooden floor of his bedroom. From the other side of the call he could hear something slam into Muramatsu’s desk, presumably his fist. 

“Give me the full story. Your team won the championship, you celebrated with drinks, you met this girl at the bar and took her home, yada yada. I know the first half now tell me the second.”

“Well, I got a call from a friend of mine. Turns out she’s a mutual friend of Yn—“

“Yn?”

“My . . . baby momma?” He clarified tentatively,hesitant to use the term. It was accurate, but friend wasn’t enough and girlfriend was too much. For now, anyway. 

His manager hummed, signaling for him to continue. “So Ami told me we need to meet immediately and I went to the cafe I suggested but it wasn’t Ami that met me it was Yn and that’s when I found out,” he said in a rush of words, not taking a single breath. 

His manager sat at his desk, stunned. “And the pictures?” He dared to ask. 

“We talked, and I told her I would be there every step of the way. Every appointment, every craving, every mood swing. All of it. I want to take responsibility and be a good dad to this baby.”

“Would she be open to pretending to be in a relationship?”

“Might not need to pretend at all. We have a date planned.”

“Good good,” his manager said. “And what if we took it a step further? If we present the two of you as a married couple, then it turns a scandal into regular celebrity gossip and your reputation—and your girl’s—is spared the judgment of having a child out of wedlock. It’s a win-win for everyone.”

Kenji positively preened at hearing you referred to as his girl. He was so taken with the thought that he agreed to Muramatsu’s proposition without even bothering to ask what you thought of it. But it wasn’t like you had a boyfriend that would object, right?

“Great!” His manager said. “I'll talk with the team and we’ll have this sorted out by nightfall. Now, let’s backtrack. You said it was Ami that called you to meet. Ami Wakita? That reporter who interviewed you?”

“Yeah, that’s the one.”

“So let me get this straight. You knock up a girl and one of the very first people to know is a reporter, and now suddenly there’s gossip rags talking about your promiscuity?”

“We’ll talk to Ami. She’s a friend to us both and I just can’t believe she’d actually cross both of us just for a story.”

“You’re gonna give me grey hair, kid,” his manager groaned. “We'll give her the benefit of the doubt for now, but find out if she’s the leak. We’ll talk later.”

It wasn’t until he heard the click of the call ending that it sunk in what he’d agreed to. He’d made a decision all on his own without consulting you that would deeply impact your life even more than it already had been. He sat on the edge of his bed and sunk his head into his hands, groaning at him having dug himself in an even deeper hole. In the last 48 hours, you two have gone from a hookup to eventual co-parents to make-believe spouses. How was he supposed to explain this to you?

The buzzing of his phone pulled him from his thoughts. He checked the screen to see a message from you and swiftly unlocked his phone. 

yn: are you free later? ami wants the three of us to talk

yea, where at?

yn: her place for lunch? around noon?

sounds good. just got off the phone with my

PR manager. he’s working on damage

control but it will require some acting on

our part 

yn: ???

i’ll explain when i see you later

see you soon :)

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next

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@nuhteyam

[orangekittyenergy]

On Tails and Horns

NSFW Rolan Fic

Tags: NSFW, 18+ only, tail touching, horn stroking, dry humping, first kiss, touch starved Rolan, she/her Female Tav, mostly sexy flirting but with smut at the end, basically all angst and anticipation really, I guess subRolan

Words: 6000 (once again this got completely out of hand)

Summary: Tav finally goes to visit Rolan in his new tower after a hard couple weeks of cleanup. Rolan is so delighted to see her and pent up with frustration and feelings that the lightest of touches is enough to make him lose all sense of himself.

A/N update: Holy hells thank you fine folk so much for the love on this one. I'm gonna go have a cry for real❤️😭

Read below or direct on AO3

-

Tav and Rolan sat in his sitting room for tea, perched together, far closer than Rolan had intended, on the plush couch. The velvet couch was one of the many opulent vestiges from the previous owner. Books and scrolls aside, it certainly didn’t hurt to now occupy a fully furnished tower. The large vaulted windows were flung open wide, letting in a soft breeze and low hum from the movements of the city far below.

Rolan had been delighted when she came to visit. Tav had been so busy with helping the issues in the damaged city he hadn’t been quite sure when he would see her again. But he couldn’t deny the way his heart sang when she strolled through the doors over an hour ago, hoping to catch up with him now that she had a moment to breathe. Him, of all people.

But now here they sat; having discussed the details of both of their new lives, how life in the tower and store were going, the efforts to clean up the city, and the question of what lay next seemed to hover in the air.

Tav set her cup down on the side table and gave him a soft look.

“Thank you for taking time for me. I know you’ve been busy. But I really needed this.” She said and shot him what looked like an almost shy smile. Rolan blinked hard at her, surprised at her words as much as the look on her face.

“Thank...hah! I should be thanking you. Consistently and forever.” He set his own empty cup down as well. “I would have nothing were it not for you.”

“Oh, don’t pretend to be modest. You know you were amazing in the courtyard at that battle; I don’t know if we could’ve made it through without your help.” Tav reminded him.

Rolan cocked his head, looking away a moment in thought.

“Yes, I suppose I was rather amazing. I guess Cal and Lia helped some but my spells really sealed the fate of those wretched mind-flayers.” He mused with a slight smile. Tav always knew how to stroke his ego.

“But...really...thank you, Rolan. I’ve been meaning to visit sooner. I’m still staying at the Elfsong. Maybe we can do this again? Maybe dinner perhaps?” She said, almost casually. Just tossing asking him to dinner out there as if it was nothing. 

His breath caught in his throat. Dinner. His mind rang with the word as it seeped into every corner of his brain; trying to wrap his head around what that could possibly mean. Was she asking him out? That couldn’t be so. It was casual. Two friends catching up. But still, his mind immediately pictured the scene; dinner and wine at the Elfsong. He’d love to see her in something more dressy. No, that was ridiculous. She must have dozens of suitors.

"Ahem...dinner, yes. That... would be a fine idea..” He spoke haltingly, trying to fill the silence with words, any words, while he was still trying to work through the idea in his head, a thousand different scenarios crashing together at once.

As he struggled with this concept; it seemed the deepest part of his desires to be close to her, to get to know her in possibly more than a friendly setting, that he has previously pushed away, had bubbled up again and his body decided to act for him.

Tav felt a movement on her leg and shivered.

She looked down to see Rolan’s tail curled gently but insistently around her leg just above her knee, the tip trailing down to rest on her calf. He followed her gaze and his eyes widened with shock at the impudence and betrayal of his own tail. Before he could utter out the immediate string of curses and apologies that flew into his head, in that split second of fear that gripped him, Tav moved quicker and he froze.

She raised her hand from her thigh and gently placed it on the exposed section of tail atop her leg. All thoughts fled from Rolan’s head as a hiss and a full body shudder rolled through him at her whisper light touch.

The shiver extended all the way through his tail and Tav immediately raised her hand off it as if she had been shocked, looking up to meet his eyes.

"Oh, I'm so sorry. I should've asked first-"

She started as he spoke at the same time.

"I am very sorry about that damn tail, I -" he paused, her words finally reaching his muddled brain. "Ask?" The word almost caught in his throat as he choked it out, incredulous. He caught her eyes flutter down to the offending tail, still around her leg, then back up to his meet his eyes with a blush. A blush? What did she have to blush about? It was his tail that got him into this predicament.

"Yes, sorry. I'm so sorry Rolan, I've heard tails can be sensitive...I should've asked first...it was just...it was right there." She gave a nervous chuckle and glanced away.

Wonderful, now I've done and mucked everything up, Rolan thought. The mere mention of dinner from her lips had left him already in shambles, unable to even control his own cursed tail. He frowned and cleared his throat, trying to still the building throbbing in his chest and regain his usual demeanor.

"No. I mean, yes, you should have." He said brusquely at first. Her eyes flickered away again and he quickly added. "They...uh...can be sensitive in some areas, yes." He swallowed thickly suddenly quite unsure of what to say. Tav met his eyes for a brief moment then looked back down. Rolan followed her gaze, already knowing full well what he would find and saw his damned tail, somehow wrapped, so it seemed, even tighter around her leg. He cleared his throat again but made no attempt to move it despite his nerves screaming at him.

"So, can I?" Tav spoke, pulling his attention back to her face. It was tilted down but her eyes peered up at him in what seemed to be a deliberately maddening pose.

"Can you....?" He hesitated, he was sure she couldn't be asking what he thought she was asking.

"Can I touch your tail?" She finished boldly. Rolan eyed her a moment, and swallowed thickly, his brain swirling with a million thoughts and his hands starting to tremble. He crossed his arms and tried to seem nonchalant about the entire situation and realized he was failing miserably.

"Sure. Yes. You may." He uttered, hoping his voice didn't waver.

Tav reached back out, hand tentative but confident and placed her palm again on the flesh of his tail where it rested on her leg.

The sensation was like a blaze of fire through his already burning hot veins. He bit down on his tongue, hard, to avoid another offending shiver and felt his eyelids flutter, betrayal of his own self control.

Thankfully, Tav’s eyes remained fixed on his tail, not noticing the immediate and dramatic way it affected him. Or, he realized, she might be tactful enough to be avoiding his face. Her touch became more firm as she well and truly let the full weight of her hand fall on it.

A sharp hiss of air escaped his clenched teeth as her hand moved slightly and her eyes finally returned to his.

"Is this okay?" She asked. Her voice was hushed, almost...he struggled to place her tone...reverent?

"Yes, yes it's fine." He breathed out, forcing himself to let the tension in his jaw relax. She began to ease her hand up slightly, tracing the bumps and ridges with her fingertips, digits gently paving the path for her palm to follow.

Rolan felt himself flush and wondered if Tav could tell the difference between his usual ruddy hue and the deeper scarlet of his blushes.

"Does it feel....good?"

His eyes had purposefully wandered but now snapped back to hers and narrowed slightly. Her expression was unreadable and even as her haunting words echoed in his ears he, again, couldn't sense the meaning behind her tone. Did she want it to feel good? Or was it pure curiosity that caused her to ask such a charged question?

And what’s more; how should he answer?

"It...does. The tail...my tail...seems to get more sensitive the higher up it goes." He tried to answer factually, logically even. It was true after all, but as quickly as the words left his mouth he realized the possible connotation of them. An invitation even. The corners of Tav’s lips flickered with a smile and her brow raised almost imperceptibly.

"Hmmm." Was the only response she gave. But her hand continued it's ascending exploration of his tail. It was now beyond the section just on her leg and was continuing on to where it dipped down a touch by his own legs.

Leaning forward slightly to extend her reach, she continued her careful mapping of the ridges, which were getting more and more pronounced as his tail progressed. She touched him as if she wished to memorize every single bump and pore; with a tenderness he couldn’t recall ever feeling before. The feeling was indescribable, but undeniably sensual. 

Rolan felt another shudder roll through him and couldn't contain this one. He felt it vibrate through his whole body all the way through and to the very tip of his tail and it gave a little flicker of movement against her calf. He couldn't tell if he was thankful or not that this one, as it trembled it's way down through his tail, didn't scare her hand away.

He stared at her hard, suddenly frustrated at her tender movements. Did she know how good it felt? Was she teasing him on purpose? To what bloody end? It was one thing to be touched so tenderly after so long, it was quite another to have his once detested bumps and ridges being the subject of such adoration. It was altogether brutal to have it be by someone that he wasn't even sure had further intentions with him. Other than being some...strange creature to fascinate over.

He squeezed his eyes shut. No matter how good it felt, how long he had wanted this, how soft her touch was, he had to stop this.

"I think-" he popped open his eyes intending on telling her to cease her activity but found that she had shifted while he battled internally and was now right beside him, her hips almost brushing against his own, her eyes firmly locked on his, watching his reactions carefully.

He wasn't just a subject of curiosity for her. He didn't know what she thought or what the intent was, but the burning in her eyes told him that it was far more than pure detached curiosity. He swallowed away his angry words, the frustration leaving him immediately, burned away by the heat of her gaze.

Her arm was now stretched out as far as it could go, ending just where his tail dipped down beside his thigh, before it would continue back up in a curve to reach the base. Incidentally, she had reached the point right where it started to become truly sensitive. It would've been positively indecent to let her continue.

His heart drummed hard in his chest, so loud he was certain she could hear it. He should end this, for decency’s sake alone. But couldn’t bring himself to conjure the words. A larger part of him was also so very desperate for her to continue; to see how far her boldness would take her. Take them. The two battling halves of his mind fought internally against each other. His mind fractured behind too many carefully crafted layers of strict composure.

He didn't have to struggle long. With a scoot of her hips again, her thighs well and truly pressed against his now, her arm bent at the elbow, giving her room to continue should she wish.

Rolan sucked in a sharp hiss of air at this development and stared at her carefully. Her eyes never left his. Her hand still firmly in place. The very air between them felt electric as if there was some magic from an unspoken spell being cast.

"Can I keep going?" She asked with a breath. His chest ached and again it took him a moment to register something. His need and eagerness for her touch along with his conflicting thoughts at the budding situation had made his senses dull. But as her words rang in his ears he heard something unmistakable. A nervous waver. In her voice. The slightest quiver. Of excitement or nerves; it could be either but he would take it. She was usually so, confident. Commanding even. To hear even a hint of a nerve in her voice at this situation stirred his insides and dispelled his doubts.

"Yes." He answered simply before he could stop himself with too much thinking. His chest hitched as her arm extended, stroking up his tail further, still using careful attention to the now more prominent peaks of cartilage. His jaw fell open slightly. The sensation of her hand almost too much to bear as another large shudder, stemming from her hand this time and rolling up his spine all the way to his scalp took him over.

She leaned forward further, her chest now dangerously close to touching his own. As her fingertips edged ever closer to the base of his tail he felt an unmistakable groan escape his lips. Her hand froze and he clamped his mouth shut with a snap both in the same moment.

His eyes darted away from hers, embarrassment welling up inside of him.

After an aching pause, his eyes still diverted, he felt Tav remove her hand and lean back away slightly. If the touch of her skin had lit a pleasant warm fire until under his skin, the sudden absence of it was a sharp painful sting of ice. Leaving him with a longing for contact that felt worse than if she hadn't touched him at all.

He finally pulled himself back to face her and was surprised to see her looking rather abashed. Her hands were sat back firmly on her thighs, gripping the fabric, a slight blush on her face, but... he could swear…was there a hint of a smile on her pink lips? Her confounding beautiful lips. 

Rolan opened his mouth to speak but once again words failed him. What could he say that wouldn't sound needy and desperate? How could he begin to ask her to continue to touch him without begging?

"Your tail felt very nice. Very soft. Sorry if I...went too far." Tav once again came to his rescue. This time rescuing him from the aching void of silence between them. Rolan blinked hard at her words. No one ever in the history of his knowledge had call his or anyone else’s tail nice or soft. As he absorbed her judgement of his tail, he realized she was staring at him expectantly.

"No, it was fine. It felt... good." A sudden surge of his own boldness possessed him, born of the sheer desire at having her hands on him again. To feel her touch him; somewhere. Anywhere. He started speaking before he knew what he was saying. "The...horns, if you were curious about them as well, also have a certain level of sensitivity... Not necessarily at the tips, but the base..." He couldn't even believe the words coming out of his own mouth. Desire had driven him absolutely mad.

Before he could begin to second guess himself he saw that the spark that flared up in her eyes was immediate. Her hint of a smile grew into a full fledged one.

Tav leaned forward slightly again and her eyes darted up to his horns.

"May I?" She asked, raising her hands up from her thighs until they hovered just over his own. He gave a gentle nod, not trusting his own voice at the prospect of being touched again.

Without hesitation now her hands raised to each place her fingertips at the point of each horn. Rolan dipped his head forward slightly to give her better access, practically bowing towards her. His own reverence at her caring touches.

She placed her fingers gently on the tips of his horns, again tracing across the thicker bumps and ridges, feeling her way around every groove as she explored. After just a moment there, she gently slid further down from the tips, lower and lower until they were thick enough to wrap a hand around. As she did so Rolan sucked a sharp gasp of air in through taut lips. Not so much at the sensation; it was altogether different than the soft flesh of his tail, but at her willingness to touch him again.

The feeling of hands on his horns was more akin to someone brushing his hair, not that he would know what that felt like; but it was more about the way it trickled down to his actual flesh that gave him shivers. But the feeling of her so close to him again, her desire to touch him again, her tender soft hands on the harshest parts of him; that was what truly drove his senses wild and made his insides coil with hunger. The feeling of her hands gently caressing his horns sent shooting sparks of sweet sensation across his scalp and he found himself clamping his mouth shut hard again to avoid making another wanton noise.

Heeding his words she seemed to move quicker down than with his tail, but as she reached the midpoint of his horns she slowed, her grip growing more delicate and exploratory again. As her hands slid across the grooves with care the sensation, the pulsing in his skin, grew stronger and stronger until his breath hitched and his breathing grew heavy once more. He stared down at her lap, trying in vain not to look directly at her chest.

His own hands, which had been absurdly useless thus far, clutched hard against the fabric of his robe at his thighs, as another shiver rolled down his spine. He felt it flow all the way down through his tail again. His eyes shot down at it. His tail. His damned tail that started this whole thing, still carefully curled around her leg, seemed to tighten involuntarily at the shudder. He wasn’t sure if he should be blessing or cursing that it seemed to have a mind of its own; operating purely on base instinct betraying his deepest thoughts and desires.

Her hands finally reached the base of his horns and tenderly traced the bumps from where they erupted from his skin, bringing forth another unintended deep groan of pleasure from the depths of his chest. At the noise his eyes darted back up to meet hers and he found her watching him intently, her lips parted slightly.

Thankfully, her hands didn't stray, undisturbed by his obvious, even lewd enjoyment of this. They stayed; soft, tender, and so caring on his flushed burning skin.

As her hands seemed to finish their careful explorations of the flesh at the base of his horns, he still had almost half-expected her to pull away. The game complete. The research done. A dark thought rolled through him before he could stop it that this was just a bit of fun for her. Teasing him like this.

But her hands lingered. He once again found her eyes, meeting them with a deep gaze as she slid her hands down, away from his horns until she was gently cupping his cheeks. Sparks shot through his entire body and his chest heaved, almost painfully so. The moment lingered, his fear and doubt still too deeply etched into his own skin in invisible scars to make a move first. A few weeks of comfort and a few moments of tender touching couldn’t erase a lifetime of hardships and disappointments.

Thankfully, Tav, was still the more bold of the two of them. Her eyes darted obviously down to his slightly parted lips then back up to meet his as she licked her lips.

“Rolan?” She breathed out softly.

He couldn’t trust that his voice wouldn’t shake. Couldn’t trust that any possible utterance of words would snap this beautiful fantasy in two and she would dissolve. Couldn’t trust that any noise he made would break whatever spell she was under and cause her to lean away. But she lingered, unwilling to move without word from him. He swallowed thickly again and replied.

“Yes?” He finally managed to eke out with a small gasp.

“Can I kiss you?”

All of the air seemed to leave the room. She spoke so freely. So honestly. A slight hush in her words but only the tiniest hint of a quiver in her voice.

It contrasted so starkly with the tremble that coursed through his body. Of course he wanted her to kiss him. What kind of a question was that? He wanted it more than he needed to breathe. But somehow, the words out there, the possibility at hand, filled him with a deeper fear than he knew existed. A fear that threatened to overtake even his desire for her. A lingering voice that scolded him; ‘you will never quite be good enough.’

She licked her lips again and Rolan finally found the courage to quell the voice once and for all. She gave him courage. She always had. She had been there for him when no one else was; not even himself. It had always been within him, the confidence, the desires; but she had been patient enough to slowly ease it out.

“Yes, please…” He croaked out.

She leaned forward, hands still on his cheeks and placed a tender lingering kiss on his lips. The sensation of her caressing his tail was nothing compared to this. To the soft, slightly moist feeling of her warm lips pressed against his.

It sent another surge of confidence and unleashed passion coursing through his body. He could already feel his tail tightening around her leg again. His hands, trembling with anticipation and desire before, useless on his lap, now reached forward, reaching for her, eager to pull her close.

The kiss deepened, spurred on by his reaction; Tav opened her mouth, welcoming him in and leaned in further. His hands found her waist, gripping it tight as her own tongue replied to his, dancing carefully over and around his pointed teeth.

Rolan couldn’t help but groan slightly as his body lit up with sparks, every sensation he had ever felt, good or bad, seemed to pale in comparison to this divine moment. Her mouth hot against his, their breath mingling. He found his stomach was flipping over, and there was a deep aching stir in the very core of his body. Tav leaned even closer, practically in his lap now even though her hips still firmly sat on the couch beneath them.

He struggled to keep up with her tongue at first. Hers was so careful and precise and he felt sloppy and careless, sweeping along her lips and occasionally fumbling out of them as he struggled to keep up and simultaneously rushed to catch up; kissing her like it was his first and last kiss. All messy and nervous and wet and eager.

Patient as ever, Tav slowed, giving them both a moment to find the right flow, adjusting her head to tip it to the side so they could lock lips fully. He breathed out a pleased sigh into her mouth as they found a pleasant connection, leaving their awkward tongues behind.

Confidence again surging, he tugged at her hips with a new found greedy need. Greedy. He once teased her with that very word, but now very much felt the acute actuality of the word itself. He was greedy for her. He needed more of her. Now that he had been given a taste, he felt practically insatiable.

Catching note of his eager tugs, without question or request now, Tav lifted up her legs and straddled his lap, letting his body adjust to sit back against the couch. The new position allowed a new level of closeness. Her body pressed fully against his now, his pulse pounding hard between them.

Rolan felt positively dizzy. Giddy even; and that was not a word he felt he had ever used or thought of using before. He wrapped his arms fully around her back now, taking advantage of the closeness to run his hands up and down her clothed spine. His tail had released her leg at her movement and now joined his hands at her waist, resting almost scandalously against the swell of her ass. Her own hands drifted down from his face, resting on his shoulders and gently playing with the edges of his hair that rested there.

He released another shuddering moan into the kiss, feeling her body sink deeper onto his, his body still lighting up in sensations he felt he never knew before. As his mind hurried to catch up to the evolving situation and new desires continued blooming within, one thing quickly became achingly clear. Much as his tail betrayed him before, he now felt a throbbing hardness hidden under the layer of his robes and pants. He had felt it pulse and twitch earlier at her careful caresses, but now with her intentions laid bare, the situation far from friendly, and her body pressed against his, there was no denying it as the blood rushed ever further down into his groin.

For a brief moment he felt as if he was almost searching for new things to fear to ignore the comfort and passion of their kisses. As perceptive as ever, Tav seemed to notice this new wave of nerves. That, or he realized, she couldn’t help but feel his erection pressed against her due to their proximity. She finally eased her mouth away from his, allowing them both to suck in a few much needed gulps of air.

Catching his eye and leaning her forehead close to his, he felt her adjust and give a long slow roll of her hips against his hardness.

Even through the many layers of fabric the sensation of pure pleasure that tore through him was undeniable. An unmistakably vulgar groan fell from his lips before he could quell it and he felt his eyelids flutter. Tav simply smiled, and repeated the motion, spreading her knees as wide as they could go to push her hips further against him.

Rolan trembled with delight; his mind once again racing to catch up to this new development. But as his mind looked for ways to worry about this, he found himself coming up blank. The unrelenting lust and passion of the situation finally staking claim on all of his senses. It felt so good. Too good to ignore or deny further.

Another roll of her hips had his heart racing at the unimaginable level of pleasure just the mere friction of her body pressing against his made him feel. She moved more purposefully now, without pause or hesitation, grinding her very core, her own heat, against him. Her goal it seemed, lay in far more carnal pleasures than just simply driving him mad.

He dipped a hand under the edge of her loose tunic as she continued to writhe against him, and he splayed his hand across her naked back. Savoring again the feeling of her flesh against his.

It was miraculous. It was indecent. It was passionate. It was lewd. But most importantly in his head, above all else – it just felt so fucking good.

“Tav…” He groaned, unable and now finally unafraid of holding back his vocal enjoyment at this point. “If you keep going...I...I’m going...to…” Each word came out punctuated by a heavy gasping breath. He was fully panting now, the sheer ecstasy at feeling her rut against him, at the friction rubbing against his hard cock, at the entire situation really – all already so close to pushing him over the edge.

Her response was immediate. She paused her rocking and pulled back a touch to look him square in the eye. There was not a trace of annoyance in her face; just pure care for him. For his comfort.

“Do you want me to stop?” She asked, a little breathless. His throat burned. The immediacy of her response to him. Her unfaltering care for his feelings. The genuine and absolute respect. It struck him hard in the chest and felt almost as painful as the sudden loss of her delicious movements.

His eyes met hers. Part of him realized how improper this all was. He should be lavishing her with flowers and gifts. He supposed. He didn’t have much experience with it, but came to understand that was the thing to do during proper courtships. But a deeper part of him didn’t care. The city was in crumbles around them. They had defeated an army of mind-flayers and he himself had been to hell and back. To the hells with what was proper. He had tied his life to being stifled and composed; there was a time and place for it and now was neither.

“No, please don’t stop.” He finally breathed out. She grinned and leaned back in for another sweeping kiss, immediately resuming the pulsing and rocking of her hips against his. His entire body filled to the brim with burning fire again and another loud moan fell from his lips and the return of the sensation that was bringing him to the brink.

Tav was moaning too, he realized, soft breathy sounds, her breath hot against his ears. Provoked by the idea that she was possibly getting even a tiniest bit of the same level of pleasure from this that he was, he sat up slightly. He wrapped his arms fully around her, drawing her closer and holding her tight.

All last thoughts of maintaining composure well and fully gone, he thrust his groin up in time with her own movements. It took him a moment to find the right rhythm, the practice of movements such as this not in his natural repertoire. But before long they synced up in unison and increased the pace.

“Yes. Tav. Please. Tav. Please. Yes.” Words spilled from his lips with each jerking movement as the sensation within him built to a feverish peak. As the tingling feeling crested within him, at the last moments, all words seem to fail. Only moans and salacious grunts remained.

His grip tightened around her waist, one clawed hand grasping at her shirt, the other leaving scratches on her bare back as his body begin to coil and tense. It was the moment just before a spell releases, that last uttered syllable as it traveled from throat to teeth to air, bringing forth all kinds of magic into existence. He met her eyes again and she was that moment.

Her face was flush from her exertions, her pupils blown wide, staring at him with pure desire, her absolute and incessant need to take care of him. Him.

A last roll of her hips and he was done. He cried out obscenely as his tension released and he came so hard that his head spun. His cock pulsed, pressed hard between them, spilling his seed in his pants beneath his robe. As waves of his orgasm crested and rolled through his shaking and sputtering body, he felt his whole body begin to release in a way he didn’t think was possible. He tossed his head back to lean on the back of the couch it seemed like every muscle in his body went limp at once. He indeed thought he might pass out with the way his heart pounded in his chest and he sucked in deep gasps of air; thinking he might never catch his breath.

Somewhere in the deep recesses of his mind he thought of the mess he had made, in his own clothes no less, but it was quickly overtaken by the feeling of Tav leaning close, looking to close the gap he had created by sinking into the couch.

She placed a wet kiss against the throbbing pulse of his neck and nuzzled her face there while he rode out the high of his own selfish, greedy pleasure.

After a moment of deep breathing and bliss, his heart started to calm and points of panic and fear started to creep back into his mind one by one. He adjusted his head slightly to sit up, needing to face her. Feeling him move, Tav sat up further as well to meet his eyes, but made no move to climb down off his lap.

“Can I still take you to dinner?” He asked quickly as their eyes met, addressing the most pressing of his concerns; that this was just a little fling. He pulled his hand back out of her shirt, wanting this to feel as formal and romantic as possible now, given the situation. Tav smiled brightly and gave an eager nod, leaning in for a quick, and rather chaste, kiss.

“I would be a little offended if you didn’t.” She raised a brow at him. “How about tonight?” She suggested and he once again reveled in her boldness. A quality, he quite felt, that was rubbing off on him.

Rolan cleared his throat; it would be next to impossible to regain full composure after what they had done, but he still tried.

“Yes. Grand. Wonderful. Great. We shall...um… have dinner tonight then.” He said, sounding almost curt in his attempt to seem collected.

Tav was utterly unfazed by his tone and gave him another smile and a tender kiss on his lips before starting to try and disentangle herself from his hands and tail, intending on standing up.

Despite the embarrassing mess in his pants, despite the awkwardness of the situation, despite her trying to start to pull away; he found himself pulling her back. His whole body, not just his tail this time, speaking for him and refusing to let her go. He pulled her back in tightly and pressed his cheek to hers, letting his eyes shut with a soft sigh as her warm body enveloped his.

Tav paused a moment before giving in and wrapped her arms around his neck, relaxing herself back into his arms.

“Can we just…stay like this a moment more?” He whispered softly into her neck before he lost the courage to do so. He found himself struck with a deep fear at letting her go. It overtook any apprehension he felt about actually giving his feelings a voice. What if she didn’t come back? What if something happened to her? What it what if what it. But, most striking among his worry, was the ache he could already feel at lack of contact. Now that he had felt her touch he didn’t think he could survive without it.

“As long as you like.” Tav whispered back with a smile against his cheek.

[ladykailitha]

Staking a Claim Part 2

Hello! We get a resolution to the last cliffhanger and add a second less dire cliffhanger.

I will be posting this on Sundays and Tuesdays until it's completed for a total of six parts. Thursdays will be reserved for whatever story I want to update that week. It might be the soulmate AU, the werewolf AU, or even omega AU. Wednesdays are still for WIP Wednesday.

Part 1

***

Steve woke up with a pressing need to throw up. He sat up in a hurry and looked around. He didn’t recognize his surroundings and didn’t know where to go to empty his guts.

Someone thrust a bucket into his hands and he gratefully puked into it. A warm hand rubbed his back and that person began muttering encouraging inanities.

Finally he was able to stop and he looked up to see who his rescuer was.

“Eddie?” he murmured. “What happened?”

“Hey, babe,” Eddie whispered back. “Don’t worry about that right now. I just need you to keep throwing up whatever’s in your stomach, okay?”

Steve blinked at him a moment before he was forced to vomit again. It came out through his nose as well as his mouth. His nose was raw and his throat wrecked. But he couldn’t stop.

Tears ran down his face as he body continued to reject whatever it was that was causing this.

“That’s right, let it all out.”

Again Steve stopped and he looked up at Eddie mournfully. “I hate this.”

Eddie pulled him into his arms and held him tightly. “You think you can make the short walk to the bathroom?”

Steve nodded and went to go set down the bucket but Eddie stopped him.

“You might want to hold on to that just in case.”

Steve looked at Eddie then back at the bucket. He nodded.

“You hold onto your new friend Mr. Bucket,” Eddie said lightly, “and I’ll hold onto you. Okay?”

Steve nodded again and let Eddie help him to the bathroom. Eddie took the bucket and set it in the bathtub. He opened the toilet seat so if Steve needed to throw up, nothing would impede that and went in search of a spare toothbrush. He didn’t think that any of the guys would want Steve touching theirs and he wasn’t about to let him touch his.

“Eureka!” he whisper shouted. “When you feel up to it, you can use this to brush your teeth.”

Steve stared at him blankly like putting anything in his mouth would be a nightmare right then.

Eddie took a deep breath and held it for a moment. “Right, that’s not important at this moment. Got it. Priorities, Munson. Get it together.”

Tears streamed down Steve’s face and he whispered, “I’m sorry. I tend to ruin everything.” And then promptly began throwing up again. He started to shake as the vomiting and the cold got to him.

Eddie walked out and Steve really began to sob.

Then there was a warm blanket placed around his shoulders. “You didn’t ruin anything, Stevie. I promise I’ll tell you all about it when your well enough to hear it, but it wasn’t your fault.”

Steve sobs became hiccups then the hiccups became sniffles and then Eddie looked down to see that he had fallen asleep.

Eddie rocked him back and forth on the cold bathroom floor, trying hard to not fall in love with this man.

*

When Steve woke up a second time, he was in a cramped bathroom, wrapped in a warm blanket and pressed to Eddie’s side.

Eddie must have felt him stir. “Hey, baby. How you feeling?”

Steve buried his face into Eddie’s neck. “Like I’ve been run over. I didn’t think I drank that much to get this hungover.”

Eddie carded his fingers through Steve’s hair. “Do you still feel like you need to throw up?”

Steve lifted his head as he thought about it. “No. I feel like shit, but not like my guts are going turn themselves inside out.”

“Good,” he said. “I’m glad. Why don’t you take a shower and brush your teeth and I’ll set some clothes for you to change into on the toilet seat, okay?”

Steve nodded.

Eddie helped him to his feet and got the water in the shower started for him.

Steve stripped out of his clothes and got into the shower. He closed the curtain and just let the warm water wash over him. He thought hard about what happened last night.

The only thing he remembered was that he had been having a great time and then nothing. He heard the door open and then close quickly. He peeked around the curtain and saw the clothes on the toilet seat as promised.

Steve relaxed with a sigh. He looked around the shower and was surprised to see how neatly organized it all was. But he didn’t want to take anyone’s shampoo or anything so he just rinsed his hair instead. The body wash on the other hand was something he had to use. He opened each one to smell them, not wanting to grab something that would give him a migraine later.

He settled on the third one. It was woody, like pine. But not super strong or fake smelling. He got to work scrubbing himself down.

Once he no longer felt as though he’d been dragged out of hell by his balls he stepped out of the shower and dried off with the big fluffy towel that was on the hamper.

He dressed in the clothes Eddie had set out for him, complete with underwear. They still had the fold lines and wrinkles fresh from the pack. They were black boxers but then Steve couldn’t really see Eddie wearing anything else.

He slid them on and they were warm and comfortable. Next went the warm sweats and then finally the band shirt. He looked at himself in the mirror. He looked and felt like shit. There was nothing for it. He had to go out and face the music.

Or at least Eddie Munson, which as far as Steve was concerned was the same thing.

When he walked out into the main part of the apartment, he could tell it was still early enough that everyone else was in bed, but not so early that it was obscene to be seen awake after a night at the bar.

Steve slid into one of the bar stools at the counter and watched as Eddie made breakfast. Eggs, link sausage, bacon, and hashbrowns.

“That’s a lot,” he murmured. “I’m not sure my stomach is going to appreciate your effort.”

Eddie grinned. “It seems really counter-intuitive, but greasy foods tend fair better on hangovers and upset stomachs. You’d think it’d be the opposite, but nope.”

Steve cocked his head to the side. “Huh, I never would have thought it either.”

“Why don’t you call someone to let them know you’re okay, while I go rouse the boys?” Eddie suggested as he turned all the heat on the stove to low. He nodded to the phone on the wall.

“Robin!” Steve cried. He looked around for a clock for the exact time. “Shit! I was supposed to be at work twenty minutes ago!”

***

Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6

@spectrum-spectre @estrellami-1 @zerokrox-blog @artiststarme @swimmingbirdrunningrock @gregre369 @pyrohonk ​@a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @chaoticlovingdreamer @maya-custodios-dionach @goodolefashionedloverboi @messrs-weasley @val-from-lawrence @i-must-potato @danili666 @carlyv @rozzieroos @wonderland-girl143-blog @justforthedead89 @emly03 @bookworm0690 @itsall-taken @vecnuthy @bookbinderbitch @redfreckledwolf @littlewildflowerkitten @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @scheodingers-muppet @mira-jadeamethyst @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @genderless-spoon @anne-bennett-cosplayer @irregular-child @lololol-1234 @r0binscript @monsterloverforhire @mugloversonly @live-the-fangirl-life @f0xxyb0xxes @lublix

[drabblesandimagines]

Dove (part seven)

Leon Kennedy x female reader (bodyguard trope and the slowest, slow burn I swear)

Part one. Part two. Part three. Part four. Part five. Part six. Part seven.

---

A tense knot has formed right between Leon’s shoulder blades – can feel it pull when he tilts his head side to side, but it doesn’t seem to be loosening. Can’t even blame it on sleeping on the sofa cos he hasn’t laid down to sleep since the call with Hunnigan, stays sat up right. He’s athletic, he can jump up to his feet from horizontal but it’ll add a second or so to his reaction time and he’s not taking the risk.

He's on edge and he doesn’t like it. The ball of anxiety in his gut has saved his life more times than he can count, but it shouldn’t be necessary in this situation, should it? He’s set up in a safe house, literally off some beaten track in the middle of nowhere – location chosen and distributed by encrypted software so, technically, no-one in the DSO knows where he is either. It’s rigged up to the heavens with security measures - cameras, alarm systems, motion detector - explosion-proof windows, reinforced doors, all topped off with his favourite array of weapons in the duffel bag, currently resting by his still booted feet.

The objective of his mission hasn’t changed after the intel he’s received, that some foreign agency has had access to the CCTV feed for who knows how many hours before they were cut off. He should feel reassured that the quality of the footage was awful – it was only by how many times he’s encountered Lickers that he could even tell that’s what the creatures were when he’d be presented with the grainy images. He didn’t see the footage of you being rescued, but it would be a cruel kick in the gut to find that feed had been HD.

He lifts an arm – his left, keeping his right arm free, his accuracy is better by millimetres with his right – and rubs the knot, hoping to relieve the tension. It's not 100% confirmed they are looking or will be looking for you either, but why would anyone link up to the CCTV circuit if not to check on the outcome of their operation?

His immediate thought had been to up the frequency of his perimeter checks, one every two hours. He could do that at night, sure – military training taught him the correct and most efficient techniques to power nap – but in the day it would be harder without worrying you about what’s changed.

You wanted updates. Hell, you were entitled to updates. But he wants to give you good news, doesn’t wanna add to the weight on your shoulders with what could be nothing. It’s stupid, he knows it’s stupid, but in these sweet domestic moments the two of you have been sharing, he’s been pretending it’s something else – friends watching television, cooking a meal together – the sweet smiles the two of you exchange, but it’s all ripped apart the moment he has to do his checks. He can see the worry settle on your face then, a reminder of where you are with the flick of the safety off his gun and the twist of the lock as he goes outside to conduct surveillance.

Speaking of, his phone beeps for his next circuit on the building and he’s up on his feet in the blink of an eye. He pats his cargo pocket out of habit for the keys on the walk over to the garage door, but finds himself pausing outside your bedroom, his eyes focusing on the handle. You should still be pretty under with those sleeping pills – note to self, he’ll need to start weening you off them from now on, far too easy to get addicted. It wouldn’t hurt to just… check you were okay, would it?

No – that’s what you’re here, why he’s here – to protect you.

It would just be doing his job.

He presses down on the handle and slowly opens the door, breath caught in his throat. It takes his eyes a moment to adjust to the dark, the lamp in the living room not quite reaching as far as your bed, but eventually he can make out your face – as peaceful as he’s ever seen it.

You’re on your side. The position doesn’t look like it would be comfortable with your arm still strapped up in the sling, but it’s testimony to how well the sleeping pills are working. Your other arm is up by your face, hand clenched in a tight fist around something. He steps forward without thinking, curious what it could be.

Your fingers are gripped tightly around his watch.

And there’s a pain in his chest that feels like they’re gripped around his heart as well.

That settles it - he’s not gonna tell you about the hacked CCTV feed. He will tell you that Hunnigan hasn’t searched your place yet, that they’ve restarted the surveillance department – she’d asked him to ask you if you knew anything about the servers since they were appeared to be working from square one – but that was it.

Leon steps back with unnecessary caution, leaving the bedroom as silently as he entered and shuts the door with a soft click. He takes a deep breath, pats down his pockets again and heads out to circle the perimeter.

And, just like after you kissed his cheek, he does it twice.

--

You wake up after another peaceful and dreamless sleep, though it still takes a moment to remember where you are as you stare up at the unfamiliar ceiling. You wonder if tomorrow you’ll not experience that flicker of panic, just get up and accept that you’ll be picking today’s outfit out of a selection of clothes that you’re not sure if anyone’s worn before you.

You feel sore, as seems to be becoming the norm, but with unusually stiff fingers on your good hand. It seems you’ve clutched Leon’s watch all night. You’d fallen asleep quite quickly – all thanks to those sleeping pills – but you remember looking at it when you’d first got in the bed, the seconds ticking by lulling you to sleep. The fact that you’ve held it for so long reminds you of when you were a kid and snuggled up with a stuffed toy for comfort, except instead of something soft and cuddly, it’s what appears to be a top of line timepiece. There’s a lot of information contained on the face of the dial but there’s the time is the only one you really care about – 0906.

You get to your feet, raising your good arm to a grunt of protest as you try and run your fingers through your hair in lieu of a mirror. Huh, that pain’s new. Your hair is definitely due a wash now, but that’s an issue for later. You pull on a pair of sweatpants one-handed – you’ll be a pro soon, you’re sure of it – and put Leon’s watch in the pocket for safekeeping. It’d be difficult to try and navigate the door handle with it still gripped in your good hand and you’d hate to scratch it up.

You open the door cautiously – you hadn’t seen Leon asleep yet, but he must do at some point. Maybe you should offer to alternate the sofa and the bed? Though you have a feeling that he’s far too much of a gentleman to accept.

Or there’ll be something in the rules that prohibits that.

There’s no danger of waking him though - the agent in question is performing sit-ups in the middle of the living room floor, facing the other way. Muscular arms behind his head as he lets out little puffs of exertion at the exercise, alternating sides as he twists.

Wary that you don’t want to be caught staring, you shut the door with more force than necessary behind you and greet him with a smile when he looks over his shoulder.

“Morning, Leon.”

“Dove!” He doesn’t even sound out of breath. “Morning. Sleep okay?” He jumps up to his feet before taking a couple of steps over in your direction. There’s a grin on his face at the sight of you – makes you feel giddy.

“Yeah, thanks. How about you?”

“That’s good. Yeah, I slept fine.” He nods. It’s not a lie – he did sleep fine for the position he forced himself to maintain all night, despite the slight crick in his neck.

“Is that how you usually start your mornings?”

One of the arms you’d been admiring goes up to rub the back of his head again. “Kinda. I usually go for a run, but…”

“But you can’t leave me on my own.” You finish, smile dropping a little. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be - I’m not.” He drops his arm back down, casting an eye over a watch that’s not there. “Hey, you hungry? I can get breakfast started. Oatmeal again?”

“Sure.” You nod, fishing his watch out of your pocket and holding it out to him. “Thanks again for this. It was nice to wake up and know the time this morning.”

“Don’t mention it. You can, er, you know, keep it. If you like.” He can’t get the image of you fast asleep last night, clutching it close to your face. He knows it was most likely the sleeping pills meaning you’d just passed out with it in your hand more than anything deeper, but, hey, a guy can pretend.

“I’ll be okay, I can get the time off the TV during the day.” You hold it out again with insistence. “But maybe… maybe I could have it for the night again?”

“Deal.” Leon hastily agrees, his fingers brushing yours as he takes back the watch before fastening it around his wrist. “Breakfast coming right up.”

You take the opportunity to duck into the bathroom as he heads towards the kitchen – your heart warmed once more by the sight of the blob of toothpaste sat ready and waiting on your toothbrush.

--

“And, finally, oatmeal.” He places it down on the coffee table, alongside your coffee, a glass of water and your morning dose of painkillers.

“Thank you.” You lean forward to pick up the spoon, smiling back at the face that Leon’s drizzled in honey atop your breakfast again.  

“Nah, pleasure’s all mine.” He calls over his shoulder as he picks up his own bowl from the kitchen. He hesitates for a second, before choosing to sit the other end of the sofa to you, rather than the opposite one.

“You know, I don’t get to do this very often. It’s nice.”

“Mm,” you swallow a spoonful of oatmeal. “Thought you said you’d been in lots of safe houses.”

“A fair amount. But, no, not that part. I mean, eating breakfast with someone.” “So…” You stir the spoon around the bowl, hoping it might prove a perfect segway into something you’d been wondering. “..there’s no-one at home for you?”

“Me?” He seems to scoff at the idea. “Nope.”

“Me neither.”

“Yeah, I figured.” He replies casually, before his blue eyes widen in alarm at how it might come across. “

“I mean, just by the fact that you hadn’t mentioned anyone at your apartment that morning and you hadn’t asked any of those sorta questions, you know, if they’d been told about what happened, where you are...”

He’s flustered, feels like he’s really putting his foot in his mouth this morning. He can take the lead in the interrogation of some of the world’s most despicable humans, for goodness’ sake, he should be able to talk to a pretty girl.

“Yeah, I figured.” You tease back and he swears he feels the weight lift off his shoulders.

The two of you eat in silence for a moment when curiosity gets the better of you. “So, you didn’t eat breakfast with the… others?”

“Nope.” His tone is firm as he recalls some of his previous charges. “Certainly didn’t make them it either. Trust me – they were nowhere near as nice or as deserving of my protection as you are, Dove.” The comment makes your head tingle.

“It’s all been people ‘realising’ how deep they’d sank but only grew a conscience to save their own skin. Hell, you might have even performed surveillance on some of them. A lot of criminals finally show backbone when they realise their time is running out.”

“Well, I’m glad to make a change – both for sharing breakfast and …safe house occupancy with.”

“A nice change,” he mumbles, but you still hear.

--

After breakfast, you go to shower and Leon sets himself to task with the dishes once again, says he did his last perimeter check before nine. Removing the sling proves trickier than yesterday – when you go to tug off the Velcro your opposite shoulder smarts with a similar pain of that morning, causing you to hiss through your teeth, something which the painkillers from breakfast don’t seem to have alleviated.

You step into the cubicle after undressing – the hot water immediately somewhat soothing on your bruised shoulders but you still struggle to get what you now deem as your good arm high enough to even entertain the possibility of washing your hair.  

You try and avoid your reflection in the mirror when you dress, though you know you’ll have to confront your hair at some point. Unfortunately, you catch a glimpse – a greasy mop sat upon your head that makes your heart sink.

There must be a trick to it – other people must wash their hair one-handed all the time, but maybe they can lift an arm above their head. If you were home, you’d go to a salon, you think – an expensive you would deem necessary for your sanity.

A thought flashes across your mind – a ridiculous one. Leon is already doing so much for you, surely this would be completely over the line.

But you could… ask, couldn’t you? The worst he could do was say no, it would be awkward, and maybe there’s a hat in the duffel bag you’ve yet to discover.

You open the bathroom door, but don’t make to step over the threshold. Leon looks over from the sofa – dishes now drying in the rack besides the sink - and clocks your hesitation.

“Need a hand with the sling?”

Are you really going to ask him this?

You’ll break at some point - you know you will, so why not get it over with now? You’re a regimented two-day wash kinda girl and it’s day three. Not to be completely vain, but you’re covered with bruises and cuts, dressed in less than flattering clothes that aren’t yours and it would be nice to feel somewhat decent about something in your appearance.

Especially with the handsome company you’re keeping. Hell, Leon could be a model, a hair model too. There’d been shampoo and conditioner in the shower and you certainly hadn’t used it.

“Dove?” You’ve taken too long to reply again, getting stuck in your spiralling thoughts.

“I know this isn’t what you’re here for.” The words tumble out of your mouth before you can think further.

“Okay…” Leon's eyebrow is raised, a curious smile now fixed on his lips as he gets to his feet.

“And say no, obviously. Please. Just… I’d like to wash my hair.” You drop your eyes then – maybe it’ll be easier if you talk to your feet rather staring into his kind eyes?

"Right."

“And I’d… You know, I’d go to a salon and get it done there if we weren’t… here.”

“You’d like me to help you wash your hair?” There’s a tone of amusement or maybe disbelief in his tone.

Hearing him say it aloud makes you doubt the entire exercise, your heart begin to pound at your stupidity. “Sorry. No, I don’t know what I was thinking. It was stupid to ask-“

“Hey, no, it makes sense.” He soothes, immediately wanting to ease your frustrations. “You can’t lift your arm above your head, right? My fault for not thinking about that.”

You look up then, seeing the sincerity on his face – like it truly was his fault that you couldn’t wash your own damn hair.

“I can do that, Dove. I don’t see why not.”

“Are you sure?”

“Mm-hm. As you said, if you were anywhere else right now, you could go to a salon and whilst I can’t promise their quality, I seem to do all right with my own.” He shrugs. “You thinking over the sink?”

He doesn’t know why he asks – it’s hardly like you’re going to ask him to get in the shower with you.

Is it?

“I think so.” You look around the living area, though you’re well acquainted with what feels like every square inch of it now. “Though it might be a little awkward since we don’t have any chairs.”

He snaps his fingers. “Nah, there might be one in the garage, actually. Lemme check.”

He barely makes it into the garage when his cell vibrates in his pocket – one new message from Hunnigan.

Any server information for me?

Leon finds the folding chair nestled at the side of the washer and dryer and hesitates over the text back.

He’ll wash your hair – seeing how torn up you’d been about even asking him had made him feel awful - then he’ll give you the updates and ask about the servers.

He picks up the chair and tucks it under one arm, swiftly typing out a message on his cell and clicks send.

Not yet – Dove’s still asleep.

---

Masterlist . Requests welcome . Commissions/Ko-Fi

Comments, follows, likes and reblogs make my day!

Part eight.

[flightlessangelwings]

Ktober 2023 Day 25- Mirror Sex

Tasm!Peter Parker x gn!reader

Word count- 1.1k

Warnings- s.mut (18+ ONLY!), softness, voyeurism, lot of praise, aftercare, established relationship, no use of y/n

Notes- Oh this was was so fun to write!! And it's another personal favorite of the month as well so I hope y'all like it too!! And I purposefully made it a gn reader too! Prompt list made by me! Enjoy!

@flightlessangelwings-updates is myupdate blog so please follow that too and turn on post notifs to stay up to date on my new fics!

~

“Open your eyes, sweetheart,” Peter’s voice echoed in your ear.

You sat in front of him, your legs parted as he knelt behind you, fucking into you slowly. Peter’s strong grip kept you upright, and you leaned back to feel the warmth and safety of his embrace. As your mouth dropped open from how good he felt rocking into you from this angle, your eyes fluttered shut and you lost yourself in the pleasure that was Peter’s touch.

A soft whimper escaped your lips as you reluctantly blinked your eyes open, but you gasped when you focused and noticed what he wanted you to see. You weren’t sure when he set it up, but a full length mirror sat at the end of the bed, and it framed where the two of you were perfectly. Even in the low light of the room, you saw both your figures clearly.

“That’s it,” he cooed as he thrust into you once, “Look at how beautiful you are.”

You moaned loudly and closed your eyes once more.

“Uh-uh,” Peter gently grabbed your chin and forced you to keep your line of sight on the mirror, “I want you to watch.”

“Peter…” you whined as you blinked your eyes open again. It didn’t go unnoticed that he didn’t move again until you did.

“See?” his tone was low as he kissed the side of your face, “Look how beautiful you are.”

You gasped when he thrust into you once, but harder this time. Your body almost jolted forward if it weren’t for Peter’s strong grip keeping you in place. As much as you wanted to close your eyes and enjoy the feeling of his cock inside you, you knew he would stop if you did. So, you kept them open and trained on his face as he watched you in the mirror.

“That’s it sweetheart,” Peter murmured as he rocked into you at a slow and steady pace.

Skin slapped against skin as both of you locked eyes in the mirror. From that though, you saw the fire that burned within his eyes with every thrust of his hips, and you felt the low mumble from deep in his chest against your back. You saw how his hair stuck to his forehead from the sweat and it only made him more beautiful to you. And then your eyes trailed down both your figures.

Between your legs, you could make out the distinct shape of his cock whenever he pulled out from you. And then it disappeared inside you when he thrust forward again, burying it deep inside you. The added visual made you moan louder as you clung to Peter’s arms.

He gritted his teeth as he felt you clench around him, and then Peter’s eyes followed yours. He watched for a few moments as his cock appeared and then disappeared with his thrusts. Then, he made a low, deep sound you had never heard from him ever before. And it sent a pulse of need right to your core.

“Fuck,” Peter breathed, “Look at us,” he thrust once more, “Look how you fit me so perfectly,” he thrust again, filling you to the brim.

“Yes,” you murmured as your eyes glazed over, “Peter.”

“Look how beautiful you look like this,” he caressed your chin where he still held you while his other arm stayed around your body to pin you against him, “Look how well you take my cock.”

“Oh fuck,” you moaned as a chill ran up your spine from Peter’s words.

“That’s it, sweetheart,” he cooed.

You dug your nails into his skin, “Peter… Yes…” you moaned, “So good, Pete… I…”

“What is it?” he trailed a line of hot, sweet kisses along your skin, “Tell me,” he said as he met your gaze in the mirror.

“You feel so good,” you whimpered, “And I love watching you fuck me like this.”

“That’s it,” he turned your chin to kiss your lips for a moment, pausing with his cock fully inside you to taste you before he turned you back to the mirror, “I want you to see what I see when I fuck you,” his tone dropped impossibly low, “I want you to fall apart and watch yourself in the mirror.”

“Oh shit,” you cried out as he suddenly picking up his pace, pounding into you with fervor, “Fuck! Peter! Yes!”

“That’s it,” he purred again as he grunted, holding back his own climax.

The look on Peter’s face when his jaw clenched made you let out the most obscene sound and you felt your body heat up and your skin tingle, “Fuck, Peter… You’re gonna make me cum.”

“Cum, sweetheart,” he groaned, “Cum for me.”

“Peter!” you screamed his name as you fought to keep your eyes open as your climax hit. You trembled in his grasp as you came hard, your mouth dropping open to let out all the sounds that Peter loved to hear.

“Beautiful,” he murmured as he watched your every expression in the mirror. He saved off his own orgasm for as long as he could, but from the way you looked so delectable in the mirror, he didn’t last long.

With a low groan of his own and your name on his lips, Peter came just as hard, His movements stuttered as he lost control as came deep inside you, filling you up. He too had to fight to keep his eyes open, not wanting to miss a second of the show the two of you put on for yourselves. Peter savored the gasp you let out as he filled you to the brim, and both of you exhaled sharply when you watched it drip down your legs.

A shiver ran up your spine as you felt both your releases slide down your skin, but you couldn’t move. You didn’t want to anyway, content in Peter’s strong grip. For a moment, neither of you could budge, both too entranced in the other’s eyes in the mirror. You still stayed connected together, and at the same time, your eyes both fell to that connection.

“That was so hot,” you breathed in awe.

Peter grinned widely and kissed your neck, “I told you to trust me,” he murmured in your ear, his eyes ever leaving yours.

“I do trust you, Pete,” you whispered as you broke the connection to turn and kiss him deeply, tasting him once more, “And I love you.”

He smiled against you, “I love you too, sweetheart,” he kissed the tip of your nose before he pulled away, “Let’s get you cleaned up, sweetheart.”

“You always take such good care of me, Peter,” you sighed contently before you let out a gasp as he slowly and carefully pulled out of you,

Peter shot you and apologetic look in the mirror before he gathered you in his arms again, collapsing both of you down onto the bed, “I always will, sweetheart,” he whispered, “I always will.” 

[madaqueue]

eternally, yours

chapter 1 | gratitude

synopsis: 'forever' is a peculiar concept - how can something persist, unchanged, throughout time? when our bodies halt their aging, do our minds continue to evolve? do our hearts? choso was comfortable with his version of forever, one of solitary loneliness; that is, until he meets you. forced to confront the harsh realities of being human, the fragility of life, his definition of 'forever' changes as he stares down the barrel of eternity.

pairing: vampire!choso kamo x f!reader

themes/content: non-curse modern au. mentions of child physical abuse, medical setting, blood. 18+, MDNI

word count: 1.9k

a/n: YAY new series RAAAAAH!!! will be updating this one a little less frequently (aka not everyday) but i hope y'all like it :)

series masterlist | next chapter

Intoxicating.

The first word that comes to Choso’s mind when he sees you is absolutely, utterly intoxicating. The bright lights overhead seem to dim, the sound of the machines whirring and beeping quiet as his focus turns to you and only you. Something within your aura, your soul, your very life force, seems to draw him to you inexplicably, feet moving on their own as he crosses the cold linoleum to stand before you.

“Are you the doctor?” your voice wavers in his silence, eyes moving up his tall figure, currently clad in a white coat, before landing on his eyes.

Blinking, he struggles to anchor himself back to reality. “Y-yes,” he stammers. “I’m Dr. Kamo, I’ll be taking care of your brother today.”

The uncomfortable faux leather of the hospital chair creaks as you adjust in your seat, muscles sore after waiting hours to finally be seen. Normally you’d pay more attention to the man before you - his striking black irises and the tattoo that covers the bridge of his nose, the dark circles ringing his eyes, or how his hair frays messily from the buns currently pulling it back - but right now, you’re just too damn tired.

“‘S’nice to meet you,” you murmur, gaze turning to the floor as you rest your head on your palm.

There’s a certain exhaustion to your voice, a deep fatigue Choso knows all too well, seeing how you shift, struggling to find a way to rest the weight of your bones.

“Tell me what happened,” he asks, shoving his nervousness down as he pulls over a rolling stool to sit between you and the hospital bed where your brother currently sleeps.

Raking your hands through your hair, a sigh leaves your lips. “He fell,” you state.

“He…fell?” Choso echoes, a hint of disbelief in his voice.

Glancing at your brother, the sounds of screaming replays through your mind, the broken glass, his small body hitting the floor. The yells echo through your thoughts as your eyes cover him, his dark hair only barely covering the open wound on his forehead, his uninjured arm cradling his likely dislocated shoulder. You nod. “He fell.”

Blinking, Choso pauses. He ignores the fact that these injuries are almost impossible with a fall, the fact that somehow a six-year-old would have ‘fallen’ at 2:30 a.m., the fact that you can’t make eye contact with him as you speak. Instead, he just nods. “Okay,” he breathes. “Well, we need to get some scans to see if anything is broken, and that cut definitely needs some stitches.”

“Do what you need to do,” you wave your hand in accordance.

“It’s just…” he trails off, “you’re his sister, right?”

You nod.

“Well, for minors, we need-”

“I’m his guardian,” you state curtly, gaze traveling from the floor to meet his, an unintentional coldness behind your eyes. Noticing how the man across from you flinches slightly, you soften apologetically. “Sorry, I didn’t-”

“Nothing to apologize for,” he smiles forgivingly, moving to stand. “I imagine it’s been a long night. I’ll go put some orders in and I’ll be back in a bit.”

With a gentle wave, he steps out of the room, leaving you in the ambiance of unfamiliar medical machinery with a wounded brother.

As promised, a few moments later a flurry of technicians and other staff comes in to take your brother for his scans, reluctantly waking him from the rest you know he so badly needs. Less than an hour later, you’re met another knock on the door before it tentatively swings open.

“Hey,” Choso’s familiar gravelly voice calls. Seeing your brother awake, albeit a bit groggy, on the bed, he cracks a wide grin. “You must be Megumi, right?”

Hearing his name, your brother nods politely, careful not to disturb the IVs and monitors poking from his skin. A precaution, the medical team called the wires and tubes they attached to him, but all you can think about is how small, how fragile, it makes him look.

“Well, Megumi, I’m Dr. Kamo, and let me be the first to say, you’re a pretty tough guy,” Choso smiles.

The sweetest giggle leaves your brother’s lips as Choso crosses the room to sit on the edge of his hospital bed.

“You got pretty banged up, buddy, but the good news is that nothing’s broken,” Choso continues explaining. “You are gonna need a sling for your shoulder, though, but you can pick any color you want for it, and I’m gonna stitch up that cut on your forehead.”

“Is it gonna hurt?” Megumi’s voice calls softly, lifting a hand to the wound on his skin.

“It might for most people, but I’ve got a feeling you’re pretty strong, so you’ll be okay, right tough guy?”

Megumi grins, another laugh leaving his throat as he flexes the muscles on his non-injured arm. “Yeah, I’m tough!”

“Then let���s get to it,” Choso chuckles.

You watch in silence as the man wraps Megumi’s shoulder, the dark blue cloth covering his arm and holding it in place. Reaching into a metal drawer near his bedside, he then carefully threads a needle through your brother’s skin, his rough hands moving so gracefully, so precisely. Megumi winces occasionally, evoking a pause from Choso until the boy flashes a thumbs up, allowing him to continue. When he’s completed the task, tying the stitches closed with a knot, he moves to let Megumi to find his reflection in the mirror across the room, admiring his work.

“Woah,” Megumi muses softly, his fingertips grazing the suture, “looks cool.”

“Looks very cool,” Choso confirms with a grin. Turning to you, he tilts his head towards the door, signaling you outside. “I’ll be back in a second, buddy, just gotta chat with your sister,” he explains, placing a gentle hand on Megumi’s shoulder before leading you outside.

The hallway is brighter than the room you just left, your eyes struggling to adjust to the fluorescent lights and the soft bustle of hospital staff moving around you. Even though tiredness weighs on your body, you force yourself to meet Choso’s gaze.

“He’s gonna need to wear the sling for at least a month, and he’ll need to be seen in about a week to get the stitches out,” he begins.

As you look into his eyes, you notice just how dark they are, black pools set within exhaustion. He’s hauntingly beautiful, a chill running up your spine as you take him in, surely just because the hospital is so cold, because you’ve been here for so long, because everything is becoming too much.

Tears begin to prick at your eyes, the lack of sleep starting to affect you more than you’d care to admit. Before you know it, your arms are thrown around Choso’s torso, firm through the layers of his scrubs.

“Thank you,” you mutter into him before pulling away, stunned at your own show of affection.

He seems equally surprised, his lips parted slightly as he forces an awkward chuckle. “It’s just my job,” he hums.

You aren’t sure if it’s your tiredness getting to you, but you swear his cheeks flush as you pull away from him. You nod, murmuring another thanks as you step back into your brother’s room, readying him to return home.

In your absence, Choso stands stunned in the hallway, the feeling of you lingering on him, unable to move from this spot.

All he can think about is you, the warmth of your body as your arms wrapped around him, his thoughts buzzing as images of you flash through his mind. He knows something is wrong inside of him; he’s never felt like this before, never felt this absolutely consumed by someone, especially someone he’s only just met. Yet something about you, something indescribable, made him want you - need you - in a carnal way, his body aching for more.

In Megumi’s room, you similarly can’t get the way Choso felt in your arms out of your mind. There was something in him, beyond his strength, his stature, that you couldn’t stop thinking about. He felt cold.

Peeking your head out of the room he’s nowhere to be seen, surely lost in the business of late-night hospital work. Grabbing Megumi’s things, you guide your brother through the building and out to your car, sinking into the plush of the seats.

Reaching to the passenger seat, you brush his bangs from his eyes as he rests his head against the window. “You were very brave,” you murmur softly, continuing to stroke his hair.

“I know,” he whispers, eyes fluttering shut, desperate for rest.

“I wish you didn’t have to be.”

“I know.”

You drive in silence, your brother asleep next to you as you make your way back to your family’s home. Pulling into the driveway, you carry Megumi from the car to his bed as quietly as possible, mentally begging that your father isn’t awoken at the stairs creaking beneath your feet. By now he could be up, the sun beginning to rise over the horizon, but hopefully the alcohol-fueled events of the previous night were enough to keep him unconscious throughout the afternoon, a schedule that had become a regular part of his routine.

As you tuck Megumi in, you place a kiss to his forehead next to his cut, the dark thread of his stitches a stark contrast to his pale skin, a harsh reminder of the reality you two endure. The image of Choso’s hands flashes through your mind, recalling the tenderness they held as he worked.

Finally in your own bed, your thoughts are clouded with the last twenty-four hours, mentally spiraling as anxiety racks your body, until Choso returns to you again. You picture him holding you, comforting you, reassuring you. Waves of tranquility wash over you, and for the first time in too long, you allow yourself to drift into sleep.

༝ ˚ ｡⋆ ༝ ˚ ｡⋆

He swore he wouldn’t do this. He promised he was better than this, that he had more restraint than this. Yet, here he is again, surrounded by the sterile atmosphere of the blood bank.

Dark red bags line the walls of the chilled room, tempting him, drawing him in. It was you, he thinks. He knows it was you, it had to be. He only came here once a month, taking the bare minimum necessary for survival, yet only three days after his last visit he felt that familiar hunger clawing at his insides, imploring him to consume.

His thoughts are blurred, overtaken with images of you, your voice, your smell, the way your arms wrapped around his body. Reaching out he grabs the nearest bag, sinking his teeth into the plastic as red drips down his chin. He laps at the liquid, the metallic taste only conjuring up more images of you in his mind, nearly intoxicated as he pictures the heat beneath your skin just begging him to taste you. He wishes it was you, knowing he would give anything to feel the warmth of the blood coursing through your body.

Draining the bag of its contents, he’s left physically satiated but mentally starved, desperate to feel you again, to hold you. Cleaning himself up, his hands shake as he undoes any remnant of the sin he committed in the quiet of the hospital corridors, a final trace of blood wiped from the corner of his lips. His mind swirls, only knowing one thing: he needs you.

series masterlist | next chapter

[florawrites-blog]

Over the summer - enhypen

-seeing you in school after summerbreak

(Guys i dont fuck with school and i need to get kidnapped sooner then later)

Lee heeseung - 이희승

The summer had been a time of transformation for you. You'd experimented with new trends, updated your wardrobe, and embraced a style that was entirely your own. As senior year began, you felt both nervous and excited to show the world your new look.

Walking into the school, you felt a few eyes on you, but you kept your head high, feeling more confident than ever. The first day of senior year was always a bit chaotic, with everyone trying to find their classes, catch up with friends, and adjust to the new schedule. You were heading towards your locker when you suddenly bumped into someone, causing your books to tumble to the ground.

"Ah, sorry about that," you said quickly, bending down to pick them up.

As you reached for the books, you noticed a familiar face across from you—Heeseung. He was your best friend's boyfriend's friend, someone you'd met a few times at gatherings. He had always been nice, but you'd never really talked much. Today, however, he seemed different. As he handed you your books, his movements slowed, and he just… stared.

There was a moment of silence, his eyes scanning you with an expression you couldn’t quite read. It was as if he was seeing you for the first time, truly seeing you.

You blinked, then cleared your throat to snap him out of whatever trance he was in. "Uh, Heeseung? You okay?"

Heeseung shook his head slightly, blinking as if waking up from a dream. "Oh, yeah, sorry! I just… didn't recognize you at first. You look… different. In a good way," he added quickly, a slight blush creeping up his cheeks.

You chuckled softly, feeling a bit of heat rise to your own cheeks. "Thanks, I guess I tried something new this summer."

"It really suits you," he said, still looking a little dazed. He handed you the last of your books, his fingers brushing against yours for just a second longer than necessary. "Well, I guess I'll see you around," he said, finally stepping back.

"Yeah, see you around," you replied, giving him a small smile before turning to head to your locker.

As you walked away, you could feel his eyes on you, and you couldn't help but smile to yourself. Maybe this new style was a bigger hit than you thought.

Park jongseong - 박종성

It was the first week back at school, and everything felt new and exciting. Over the summer, you had embraced a major glow-up, transforming yourself in ways you never thought possible. You weren’t just ready for senior year; you were ready to make it your best year yet.

The school’s newspaper writing club, which had been your second home since middle school, wasn’t starting until next week. But today, you found yourself in the club room, alone, testing out the new cameras the school had purchased. The room was quiet, the only sounds being the occasional click of the camera as you snapped some test shots.

Lost in your thoughts, you were adjusting the lens when you suddenly heard the unmistakable sound of a camera shutter clicking, but it wasn’t your own. Startled, you quickly turned around, your heart skipping a beat.

Standing there, with the biggest smile on his face, was Jay. His charming dimples were on full display, and there was a certain warmth in his eyes that made your breath catch for a moment. He looked even better than you remembered, the summer having been kind to him as well.

“Welcome back to action, gorgeous,” he muttered, his voice smooth and teasing as he lowered the camera from his face.

You blinked, trying to process the moment. Jay had always been your partner in the newspaper club, a constant presence since middle school. But today, there was something different in the air, something you hadn’t noticed before.

“Jay, you scared me,” you managed to say, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips as you tried to play off your surprise.

He chuckled, his eyes never leaving yours as he stepped closer. “Sorry about that, couldn’t resist. You looked so focused, I had to capture the moment.”

Your cheeks warmed slightly at his words, and you glanced down at the camera in your hands. “Well, I was just trying to get the hang of these new cameras. They’re pretty nice, huh?”

“Yeah, they are,” Jay agreed, but his gaze told you he wasn’t just talking about the cameras. “But I think you’re the one who’s really shining here.”

You couldn’t help but laugh softly at his playful words, feeling a flutter in your chest. “Flattery won’t get you out of helping me with the first article, you know.”

He grinned, leaning against the table beside you, still holding the camera loosely in his hand. “Wouldn’t dream of it. But seriously, it’s good to see you again. This year’s gonna be something special, I can feel it.”

There was a sincerity in his voice that made you believe him, and as you looked into his eyes, you couldn’t help but feel that maybe, just maybe, he was right. Senior year was off to a promising start, and with Jay by your side, you knew it was going to be unforgettable.

Sim jaeyun - 심재윤

It was the first day of senior year, and the summer break had left you with more than just memories. A trip back to Korea with your mom had turned into a complete makeover experience, something you hadn’t planned but thoroughly enjoyed. You felt refreshed, like a new version of yourself, ready to tackle the final year of high school.

Walking into school that morning, you noticed the familiar buzz of excitement and nerves that always came with the start of a new school year. But this year, it felt different—maybe it was the confidence from your summer transformation, or maybe it was the realization that you were finally in your last year of school.

As you made your way through the hallway, catching up with friends and exchanging stories about summer, you suddenly heard a commotion behind you. Turning around, you saw Jake sprawled out on the floor, a mix of shock and embarrassment on his face. It took you a moment to realize what had happened: he’d tripped over his own feet while staring at you.

Jake Sim, the school clown, known for making everyone laugh with his corny jokes and ridiculous antics. To everyone else, he was the funniest guy on earth. But to you? Well, let’s just say his jokes never really hit the mark. Maybe it was because he was your neighbor, and you’d had a front-row seat to his constant comedy routine since you were kids. Over time, his jokes had gone from amusing to… well, a bit tiring.

But as much as you were used to rolling your eyes at Jake’s jokes, there was something different about the way he was looking at you now. His usual goofy grin was nowhere to be found; instead, he was staring at you like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing.

You arched an eyebrow, a small smirk tugging at your lips. “You alright there, Jake? Need some help?”

Jake quickly scrambled to his feet, brushing off his clothes as he tried to play it cool. “Y-yeah, I’m good,” he stammered, his usual confidence nowhere in sight. “Just, uh, didn’t see that… crack in the floor.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle, shaking your head. “Sure, Jake. Whatever you say.”

As you turned to walk away, you could feel his eyes still on you. Jake had always been the type to chase after what he couldn’t have, and you knew you were the one thing he hadn’t been able to get a hold of. Maybe that’s why he was so persistent, always trying to make you laugh, always trying to get your attention.

But today, something about the way he looked at you was different. There was a softness in his eyes, a vulnerability you hadn’t seen before. For a moment, you wondered if this year would be any different, if Jake would be different.

Before you could dwell on it, Jake called after you, his voice returning to its usual playful tone. “Hey, wait up! I need to tell you the best joke I came up with over the summer.”

You rolled your eyes, a smile creeping onto your face despite yourself. “Jake, if it’s anything like your usual material, I might just have to transfer schools.”

He laughed, falling into step beside you as you continued down the hallway. “You’ll love this one, I promise. It’s got all the elements—timing, delivery, and a punchline that’ll knock your socks off.”

“Alright, hit me with your best shot,” you said, bracing yourself for whatever corny joke he was ab'out to deliver.

But as Jake started telling his joke, you couldn’t help but notice the way his eyes kept flicking to you, as if he was trying to gauge your reaction, trying to see if he could finally crack through the wall you’d built up between the two of you.

Maybe this year would be different after all.

Park sunghoon - 박성훈

The memory of that incredibly awkward encounter in the men’s bathroom was something you had tried hard to forget, but it seemed like it had lodged itself in the back of your mind permanently. And apparently, it had done the same for Sunghoon. Ever since that day, there had been this strange, unspoken tension between the two of you—a tension that had grown stronger with every passing week.

It wasn’t like you and Sunghoon had been close before. He was just another face in the sea of students, someone you occasionally passed in the hallways or shared a class with. But after that fateful day, everything changed. You couldn’t look at him without your cheeks burning, and whenever you saw him, he’d either avoid you entirely or quickly look away as if you were the sun and he might go blind from too much exposure.

Today was no different. You were sitting in the canteen with your friends, catching up on all the summer happenings. The conversation was light and easy, full of laughter and the usual teasing that came with being close for so long. Everything was perfectly normal—until Nudsie, your best friend, nudged you with her elbow.

“Hey, don’t look now, but someone’s staring at you again,” she whispered, a mischievous grin tugging at her lips.

You felt your stomach flip, already knowing who she was talking about. But still, you couldn’t resist. Your eyes flicked up, scanning the room until they landed on Sunghoon, who was sitting with his own group of friends across the canteen. Just as your eyes met, he quickly turned his head away, his movements so abrupt it was almost comical.

It was the same as it had been all week. You’d catch him staring, but the moment you looked back, he’d act like nothing had happened, like he hadn’t been studying you from afar like some sort of brooding vampire. The whole situation was driving you crazy, not to mention how awkward it made things feel.

Nudsie raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “What’s up with that? You two have been playing this weird staring game for days now.”

You sighed, pushing your food around on your tray, trying to play it off. “It’s nothing. Just… something stupid that happened last year. I’m sure it’ll blow over.”

But even as you said it, you couldn’t help but feel like this tension wasn’t going away anytime soon. Sunghoon was avoiding you, sure, but he was also watching you. There was something in the way he looked at you—something that wasn’t just about the embarrassment of that one incident. It was almost like he was trying to figure something out, like there was more to this weird tension than just what happened in the bathroom.

As the week dragged on, the stares continued. You’d see him in the hallways, in the classrooms, and even during lunch—always with that same guarded look, as if he was afraid you might suddenly bring up that embarrassing memory in front of everyone. And yet, every time your eyes met, he’d turn away so quickly it was like he was ashamed of being caught.

It was exhausting, and honestly, you were getting tired of the whole thing. How long could the two of you keep avoiding each other? How long could this ridiculous game of almost eye contact go on?

But every time you thought about confronting him, your mind flashed back to that day, and the embarrassment came rushing back tenfold. Maybe, for now, it was easier to let this strange tension linger in the air between you—unspoken, unresolved, and frustratingly awkward.

But in his case he just couldnt take his eyes off of you it wasn't even intentionally but his eyes would randomly drift in your direction, (he was down bad and he'd go home screaming in his pillow remebering both how good you look and that incident that he can't get over)

Kim sunoo - 김순우 (I relate cause SUNOO WTF)

The first day back at school after an amazing summer break was the last thing you wanted to deal with. Grumpy and irritated, you dragged yourself to class, barely able to muster the energy to interact with anyone. As soon as you reached your desk, you dropped your head on the table, hoping to catch some sleep and avoid the day altogether.

When you finally lifted your head, your eyes locked onto none other than Kim Sunoo. Over the summer, it seemed like Aphrodite herself had blessed him because he looked even more stunning than before. The sight of him looking so effortlessly gorgeous irritated you more than you could have imagined. Annoyed and frustrated, you let out a sigh and dropped your head back on the table with a loud thud.

The noise drew the attention of everyone in the room, and you could feel their eyes on you, but you couldn’t care less. Today was not the day for this, and seeing Sunoo looking like a literal god wasn’t helping. You just wanted to get through the day without losing your mind.

Yang jungwon - 양중원

The first day of school after summer break had been eventful. You had taken on the role of leader while Jungwon was away on a trip with his parents. As you walked through the hallways, you noticed the buzz around Jungwon's return. Everyone was excited to see him after three weeks.

When he finally walked into the room, the energy shifted. Conversations paused, and all eyes turned to him. But instead of greeting everyone, his gaze immediately locked onto you. His jaw dropped, and for a moment, he looked completely dumbfounded.

"You’re so beautiful," he blurted out, his voice barely above a whisper.

You blinked in surprise, your cheeks flushing slightly. "What?" you asked, almost not believing what you heard.

Jungwon quickly tried to recover, rubbing the back of his neck and looking away awkwardly. "I mean—uh, I was just… I meant to say hello. Yeah, just, um… hello."

You couldn’t help but smile at his flustered state. The usual composed and confident Jungwon was caught off guard, and it was all because of you. "Hello, Jungwon," you replied with a soft laugh, enjoying his reaction a little more than you probably should.

Ni- ki -남편

It was the first day back after the summer break, and the energy in the school was buzzing. Over the summer, you'd undergone a transformation that left even you in awe. As you walked through the school, heads turned, but you were more focused on the day ahead than on the attention.

During the break, Ni-ki had a basketball match to celebrate the return to school. You knew he'd be playing, and while you usually didn’t care, today you decided to watch, purely out of boredom. As the game progressed, Ni-ki was his usual self—focused, competitive, and annoyingly good. But then, something strange happened.

His eyes drifted toward the crowd, and they landed on you. You were casually leaning against the bleachers, your new look catching his attention. It was as if time slowed down for him. His focus shattered, and before he could regain it, the basketball smacked him right in the face.

You couldn't hold back your laughter. It was loud, genuine, and probably a bit mean, but the sight was just too hilarious to ignore. After the game, Ni-ki marched straight to the nurse’s office, holding his nose and glaring at you the entire way.

When he returned, a bandage over his nose, he made a beeline for you, still fuming. "This is your fault!" he accused, eyes narrowing.

You raised an eyebrow, still giggling. "My fault? I wasn't even on the court!"

Ni-ki huffed, clearly frustrated. "How the hell do you look like this?"

That caught you off guard. "Excuse me?"

He looked flustered for a moment, then crossed his arms, trying to maintain his usual defiance. "You distracted me. That's why I got hit."

You blinked, genuinely confused but also amused. "So, you're blaming me for you not paying attention? Sounds like a you problem, Ni-ki."

He opened his mouth to argue but then closed it, seemingly at a loss for words. For once, it seemed Ni-ki didn't have a snarky comeback. Instead, he just muttered something under his breath and walked off, leaving you standing there, half-smirking at his sudden, strange behavior.

his mutters (She's to pretty I can't even argue)

[7ndipity]

“Like Crazy”

Jimin x Idol Reader

Summary: Jimin asks you to fill in as his dance partner for a Like Crazy performance

Warnings: not proofread

A/N: Thanks to the lovely anon who requested this! I hope you like it!

Masterlist

Requests are open

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

“Ok, let's take five and then we’ll go again!” The choreographer called.

Gratefully, you slumped down to the floor, letting your head rest against the wall as you took a few deep breaths. Comebacks were always exhausting, but this new choreo you’d been working on was really kicking your butt.

Letting your eyes fall shut, you made a mental note to try and make the next single be something slower, only to be jolted out of your train of thought by the sound of your phone.

Quickly digging it out of your bag, you couldn’t help the small grin that crept across your face as you read the caller ID. “💖Chimmy💖”

“Hey you.” You answered.

“Hey, uh, I have a huge favor to ask, and I need you to not hate me.” Jimin said quickly, sounding stressed.

“I would never hate you.” You replied.

“Would you be my dance partner?”

“What?” You blinked.

“Jinsol’s sick, and we need someone to fill in for this weekend's performance.” He explained. “I know it’s short notice, and you’re doing promotions right now too, but you’re one of the only other people who already knows the choreo.”

“Would the company be okay with us doing that?” You asked. Although it wasn’t a secret that you and Jimin were ‘close’, the exact status of your relationship was, and you knew that performing like this would inevitably stir up rumors.

“They said they could make it work, if you agreed.”

You considered it for a moment before speaking again. “Which days would you need me to cover?” You asked.

“Just Saturday.”

You sat up a little straighter. “Jimin… That’s Music Bank.” You said, stating the obvious.

“I know.”

“I’m also performing on Music Bank?”

“I know.” He repeated. “You can say no, it’s totally okay, I just had the thought-”

“No, I’ll do it.” You said quickly. The chance to actually perform with your boyfriend was not one you were keen on passing up, however sudden and hectic it might be.

“You will?!” He exclaimed.

“Yeah, sure.” You replied. “The managers will probably hate it, But what the hell?”

“Ah, Y/n, thank you!!” He cried through the phone. “I’ll find a way to pay you back for this, I promise!”

“You better,” You giggled at his enthusiasm. “I’m risking the wrath of army here.”

“They’ll behave, don’t worry.” He said. “I gotta go and update everyone, I’ll call you again later. Love you.”

“Love you too.” You replied, hanging up and taking another deep breath.

Well, this weekend just got more interesting…

The next two days were filled with ducking between rehearsals, wanting to make sure you had the choreo for ‘Like Crazy’ down perfectly. Jimin had taught you the main portion of the dance a couple months ago as he was getting ready for promotions, but you still had to get the hang of dancing with the group for the other sections.

Now, as you were weaving through the crowded backstage area to catch up with the rest of Jimin's team and quickly change outfits, you were beginning to feel the pre-show nerves settling in, despite having just finished your own performance.

As soon as Jimin caught sight of you, he tackled you in a tight hug.

“You did amazing out there!” He said excitedly, giving you a squeeze before releasing you.

“You watched?”

“Of course I did!” He said, cocking his head at you. “What kind of boyfriend would I be if I didn’t support my amazingly talented partner?”

Before you could come up with a retort, you were all being called to the stage. You and the others watched from the side as Jimin went out and greeted the crowd, thanking them all for coming and expressing how he hoped they would like the performance.

As the lights went down and you and the other dancers moved to your places, you heard a couple surprised shouts of your name, making you bite back a grin as you glanced back at Jimin. He shot you a quick smile and thumbs up before turning away.

As the music started, you took a deep breath, your earlier jitters quickly dissolving as you let everything else fade away, focusing only on following the others and Jimin.

When you reached the solo part of the song that was just you and Jimin, you had to bite back another smile as the two of you made eye contact as he sang, sending him a quick wink before you spun behind him, hearing the slightest waver in his voice as he fought back a laugh.

The rest of the dance went smoothly, and almost too soon, you were back in the starting position as the final notes of the song faded out, only to be immediately replaced by the crowd’s thunderous cheers.

Everyone quickly ducked off stage and headed back to the dressing rooms in flurry, you and a couple of the other dancers talking and complementing each other on the performance. After a few minutes, Jimin managed to pull you off to the side, pressing a quick, enthusiastic kiss to your lips.

“Thank you so much.” He whispered.

“You’re welcome.” You said. “Although, you know you’re gonna get in trouble for making moves on your dancers like this.”

“I can’t help it,” He whined. “You were too cute out there.”

“Do you think the fans liked it?”

“I hope so, I know I did.” He said.

“I’ve noticed.” You giggled as he tried to kiss you again, only to be interrupted by the sound of your names being called as your teams tried to find you.

He groaned. “We’d better go. Can I come over later?” He asked.

“You better, you still owe me payment for today, remember?” You teased.

“I’ll have to come up with something really good.” He grinned before slipping out the door ahead of you.

“Can’t wait.”

[barnesafterglow]

night shift

summary: your growing fame becomes too much for bucky

pairing: actor!bucky barnes x singer!reader

word count: 2k

warnings: fame au, dual pov, unreliable narrators, idk how the grammys work (clearly), angst angst angst, steve is a good friend, bucky is Going Thru It, if you think this is joe + taylor coded you're prob right, directly inspired by night shift by lucy dacus

a/n: yearly fic, dedicated to new lovers

masterlist - i no longer have a tag list but you can follow @theafterglowlibrary to get updates! 🤍

You shoved him off of you, heart racing, breaths coming fast. You had said Bucky’s name, had whispered it in your most intimate moment, and now you needed to leave.

You said nothing else, gathering up your clothes and pulling them on as quickly as you could.

“Wha-”

The door slammed behind you, cold winter winds whipping around you as you realized you’d left your jacket on the hook by the door. It was your favorite, but one you were okay sacrificing as long as you didn’t have to face your embarrassment anymore.

Huffing a breath you could see in front of your face, you called an Uber - at least you had remembered your phone - and paced anxiously a block away from his building, hoping and praying he wouldn’t follow you out.

The entire ride home your mind spiraled until you turned off your phone, terrified this would make headlines already and, let’s be honest, no one would be surprised if it did. You hated that was the life you lived. As if your breakup with Bucky hadn’t already been tabloid fodder for weeks now, the public speculating every detail and warping every comment and photo posted. You had taken to keeping off social media altogether in the time since, trying to disguise your outings as much as possible and take back alleys to recordings and friends’ houses.

Your biggest supporter through all of this, surprisingly, had been Steve - Bucky’s best friend. He hadn’t been your friend first, sure, but he had become like a brother to you nonetheless, and he knew the situation better than anyone. You knew he still talked to Bucky just the same and, while that stung a little, you couldn’t fault him for being there for his childhood best friend too.

Which is how you ended up outside his apartment the very next morning, clad in your typical-as-of-late attire of a hoodie and a hat and sunglasses. It was also how you came face to face with Bucky for the first time since that fateful night.

“I didn’t come to sit here and watch you stare at your feet, James.” You stood from his couch, starting to seethe with pent up anger from your gradually failing relationship, all to end up here. What did he want? To absolve his guilt and shake hands and everything would be fine?

No. You had been the victim of his petty remarks and anxious jealousy for so long. You wouldn’t let him think he deserved your time when he didn’t respect the person you had become. 

Your anger flashed back to the week before, the last time you had been seen out in public together as he was breaking up with you at your favorite coffee shop, where he had paid for your drink and you gave him a hesitant kiss, even though you knew it was inevitably coming. He had led you to a table in the corner and proceeded to tell you that he was sorry but he couldn’t do this anymore, it was too much for him - you were too much for him. Okay. That’s all you said was “okay” before you pushed out of the chair and walked around the city until the sun went down.

By the time you got home that night, the headlines were already speculating your breakup, though neither of you had yet to shed a single tear.

-

Bucky blinked as you shuffled on Steve’s doorstep, eyes wide and contemplating the quickest escape. He didn’t blame you.

He had admittedly not handled your breakup the best; in fact, he regretted it almost immediately at the stricken look on your face, clearly not expecting it. He didn’t blame you for that, either, seeing as it had slipped out in a moment of panic.

You had gained a lot of fame over the course of your relationship, even more than him, and he didn’t quite know how to cope with it. And so the words had poured out, unable to be taken back, and here you were, weeks later, still at odds.

He thought every night of how to make it up to you. Public displays weren’t your thing and you had blocked his number the night of your big fight, so that was out of the question, and he didn’t fancy showing up to your house only to have the door slammed in his face either.

But now, now maybe that you were here on the most neutral ground you could stand on, maybe he could keep his foot out of his mouth and apologize. Words stirred in his hindsight, unable to string together a coherent sentence as your face morphed through the stages of grief in record time. Then, just as he was about to speak, Steve placed a hand on his shoulder and gently guided him back into the house. Relief flooded your face as you drifted out of his sight, and he realized this probably wasn’t going to be as easy to take back as he thought.

“Buck,” Steve said as the two of them turned around the corner. “You need to leave.”

Bucky felt his face do something awful, a mixture of confusion and guilt, but he decided to keep his mouth shut. He simply nodded and kept his head down as he shrugged on his jacket and passed by you in the doorway.

He could hear the soft sound of your sobs as the front door clicked shut.

-

Songwriting could be as easy as breathing and as hard as climbing a mountain. Right now, the words flooded out of you like a tap of water.

And so did the tears, staining your notebook paper and smearing ink, but still in your heart you knew you would never forget these lyrics - these words that so painstakingly came from your soul and laid it bare.

As you finished the last verse, you took a deep breath, sucked up the tears, and called Natasha. 

-

“Steve, I need to talk to her,” Bucky whined over a beer in a rundown bar in Brooklyn.

“No, you don’t.”

“I can fix it, I know I can.”

“I don’t think you can, Buck.” Steve ran a hand through his hair, a deep sigh leaving his lips. “She’s trying to move on. Don’t ruin that for her.”

“But-”

“No.”

Bucky mimicked Steve’s sigh and leaned back in his chair. It had been increasingly hard to justify his decision to end things with you. He didn’t know what he was thinking and he regretted every moment of it since then. 

“Do you think she misses me?” Bucky looked so hopeful, but he could see the sorrow in Steve’s eyes.

“I don’t know.”

-

The Grammys, the fucking Grammys, and you were performing. You were nominated for a couple, and the Academy had asked you to sing - preferably a new song - in honor of that.

Natasha wrapped you in a hug, twirled you around, and announced you were going out to celebrate. You hesitantly said yes, knowing the press would be everywhere and there was always the possibility of seeing Bucky.

But fuck him. This was your moment.

Which is how you ended up at your favorite dive bar in Brooklyn. Your first mistake.

It was your favorite because Bucky had taken you there so many times. But you couldn’t think of another place you would celebrate than the place where so much inspiration and so many lyrics had come from.

You didn’t scan the room as you walked in with your hand clutching Nat’s, the rest of your small circle of friends following close behind. Your second mistake.

Walking straight to the bar, you didn’t notice Bucky in the far corner, watching your every move. It wasn’t until you were a few drinks in, feeling the celebration kick in, that you spotted him.

At first, you intended to ignore him. This was your time, your night, your moment. He didn’t get the spoil that.

That is, until you went to the bathroom and he trailed you into the dimly lit hallway.

“Baby,” he whispered, his voice a harsh rasp of beer and no sleep. “I’ve missed you.”

Your heart stopped beating in your chest.

You weren’t prepared to see him tonight, not that you ever were these days. But tonight of all nights, the one that should have been carefree and fun and a glittery memory for years to come, was smeared with anger and heartbreak as you spun to face him.

“What the fuck,” you snapped as his fingers grazed your bare arm. Immediately you felt bad, seeing the hurt on his face, and your expression softened. “Sorry.”

“I-it’s okay.” The catch in his voice broke your heart, your own watery eyes matching his. For just a moment.

It took you too long to come to your senses - this was the man who had shattered your heart without a second thought - but he was already so close to you. His body only inches from your own, his hot breath fanning your face, and goddamnit you missed him. You missed him so much that your heart broke all over again.

Your mind cycled through a thousand different thoughts all at once: get away, come closer, touch me, keep your hands off. You couldn’t decide what you wanted in the moment.

You were so, so angry, and yet you couldn’t stop yourself from reaching out to him. His hands settled on your waist as the lights overhead flickered. Your hand pressed gently to his cheek, completely of its own volition. Suddenly, you were tracing the planes of the face you had once known so well. He looked older now, like your time apart had aged him, yet his was still as handsome as the day you had first laid eyes on him.

His eyes locked with yours, and neither of you said a word - not him to ask, not you to stop him - as he leaned in to kiss you.

-

It should have felt like a victory - it did feel like a victory - but there was something else there. Something dark and twisted and Bucky couldn’t figure out if it was coming from you or him.

The kiss could have lasted moments or a lifetime, he didn’t really know. All he knew was one second you were holding him close to you and the next you were shoving him off.

“Fuck fuck fuck,” your voice came out in a whisper, like you didn’t want to draw attention from the steadily growing crowd of the bar. He supposed you didn’t.

“I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me.” You nodded at his words, your fingers pressed to your lips like you could still feel him there. “I’ll just go.”

You nodded again, your eyes vacant, and he made his way back to the main room of the bar. He looked back in time to see you slump against the wall, and he knew that you were thinking of a way to erase any trace of him on you.

-

The stage lights came on, you strummed your guitar and started to sing.

The first time I tasted somebody else’s spit, I had a coughing fit.

You let the lyrics you poured your heart into spill out across the stage. Still, somehow - in the crowd of hundreds of faces - you spotted Bucky.

This time, it didn’t make your heart clench. Didn’t make you shed a tear or run away.

No. This time, it empowered you. Let him hear the lyrics he inspired. Let him feel that pain of your words and feel the hole in your heart where he had broken it. Where you were now healing.

-

Bucky watched as you sang, and you were mesmerizing. He could feel the echoes of hurt in your words, the hole in your heart he had put there. He knew, despite the last time he saw you, that there was no making up. There was no fixing what was well beyond broken. No chance for him.

In five years I hope the songs feel like covers,

Dedicated to new lovers.

[acewithapaintbrush]

@somerandomdudelmao s latest update for the Cass apocalyptic series has given me mental damage so I'll make it everyone's problem

🐢🐢🐢🐢

Donatello remembers falling asleep. It's a generous word for dying, but that's what it felt like. Closing your eyes and just drifting off, just a feeling of contentment and peace. As peaceful as dying can be. 

It was painless at least. That's a plus if you ask him. The constant heaviness in his bones, the itching at the back of his eyes, telling him to close and never open them again, the constant buzzing in the back of his head. It all just went away the moment he let go. 

For a second he'd felt weightless. Free. He'd felt young again, had imagined himself jumping over rooftops with his brothers and feeling the wind on his skin. The battle shell a comforting weight on his back instead of the crushing burden it has become during the last few weeks of his life. He'd imagined himself jumping and landing, jumping and landing, effortlessly. Had imagined himself looking to the left and seeing Leo, keeping pace, grinning and whole. Looking to the right and seeing Mikey and Raph, happy and laughing. He'd imagined looking forward again and seeing April and Dad and so many others, standing there, waving at him, their silhouettes stark against the sun lowering behind New York's skyline. 

He'd thought "Ah. This must be heaven" 

And then nothing. 

And then too much, all at once. Like a computer going into overdrive, a hard drive rewriting and deleting itself over and over. He feels torn apart, his body rearranging itself constantly, nothing but a mist of energy one second and in the next blink of an eye a solid mess. When he has eyes and he can look down, he sees hands and arms glowing and glitching, but before he can panic or make sense of anything, he is gone again, just shadow and clouds, scattered across what his world has turned into. 

This is nothing like what Raph described. Donnie expected some mystical mumbo jumbo, thanks to their ninpo and their connection to their ancestors. But what he'd expected had been Gram-Gram and Dad, waiting for him with open arms. 

Not whatever the shell this is! 

Figures! Even in death this mystical stuff manages to screw him over. Paint him surprised. NOT! 

Time seems to be meaningless here. It feels like forever and it feels like just a second before something changes in his new world. The light changes, the texture of his surroundings solidifies. His body is as stable as it ever is, glitching and oozing with overflowing ninpo, but here and real. 

There is a figure in the distance and Donatello can't make out who it is but he knows, knows as instinctively as he knows himself, as he knows his brothers. 

The figure comes closer and they collide and Donnie feels himself rip apart AGAIN, but this time it's different. This time it's like coming home, like breathing in after years of holding it all in. 

And then there is nothing and then there is a lot again. Not too much this time, just the right amount. But confusing and dizzying. Donatello is still not quite back yet, still feels alien to himself, but he's as whole as one can probably be after dying. 

There are many new sensations pressing down on him. All of it familiar yet unfamiliar. The ninpo of his brothers, but much too young. The familiar energy of Casey Jones surrounding him, in contrast older and much more burdened than it should be. 

But no time to panic. Assess and analyze Donatello, it's what you do best. There will still be time to freak out once you have figured out what the hell is going on. 

"You know, I think I might need to invent a new scale to rate this rescue experience."

[tinypandacakes]

Banana Bread — Simon Riley x f!reader

1.7k words

Tags: Domestic fluff, established relationship, NSFW but not explicit, soft Simon, oral sex (f receiving, not described in detail)

A/N: Inspired by an ask from @chevygirl666 about Simon catching you dancing by yourself while cleaning. I was craving some softness ~ thinking about Simon coming home after a tough mission and the comfort you bring him 💕

Feel free to send me asks/ideas you’d like to see! sometimes I like to work on shorter things between fic updates :3

You blinked away the cobwebs of sleep as your eyes adjusted to the soft morning light streaming through the window, enjoying the hearth-like heat of Simon’s chest pressed against your back. It was so tempting to let yourself fall back into the creamy haze of sleep like this, to stretch out languidly in the shared warmth of a blanket cocoon.

You wanted to pretend the rest of the world didn’t exist just a little longer. But, you had chores awaiting you this morning, long overdue.

You slithered out from under a heavy arm slung around your waist, moving slowly so you didn’t wake him. Normally Simon was alert the second you so much as shifted in bed, eyes sharp in an instant, a firm forearm braced possessively across your middle — stay, mine. But this was the first morning back from a long deployment.

Weariness was etched at the edges of his eyes and the dark smudges beneath remained even after all the black paint had been wiped away. The corners of your mouth pulled down into a frown as you scanned his face, seeing a few tiny half-healed scratches peeking through five o’clock shadow. There was a new crease between his brows from being pinched together tightly for too long in the scowl he wore when he was stressed — maybe this had been an especially tough mission.

You’d let him sleep as long as he needed.

You imagined this was the first time in ages that he didn’t have to wake up just as the sun began to peek over the horizon, when the remaining chill of night was pulled into his lungs with his first cigarette of the day. You liked to think of him watching the sky lighten in cotton candy hues, enjoying a quiet moment to himself, catching up on your messages sent several time zones over—

waiting to return to something familiar and soft.

You stared at him as you hovered at the edge of the mattress, his blonde hair catching the sun in golden highlights, lashes near-translucent as they fanned over his cheekbones, lightly flushed pink. His cheeks were more hollow than you remembered, his arms leaner, abdomen flatter and more firm. Deployment always stole a bit of his bulk and softness. It had nearly stripped him bare this time, leaving only lean muscle, what was necessary to get the job done.

Your chest tightened at the sight of him.

Maybe you’d make banana bread this morning with those too-brown-to-eat bananas that had been sitting on your counter. Let him wake up to something warm and homemade to replace the little layer of softness you liked to see over his stomach. He joked once about how you were fattening him up, but underneath the teasing, you saw a flash of something that caused your heart to constrict. The bit of extra weight meant he was home, meant he was safe,

meant he was yours.

Your eyes slipped over the swell of his pecs to his side — you hadn’t yet asked about the bandage there, taped near the bottom of his ribcage. There hadn’t been time with the way he’d immediately opened the door last night, scooped you up, and brought you to bed, your mouth far too busy to ask those kinds of questions.

You reluctantly turned away from him and plucked up the clothing littered on the floor, the evidence of your reunion and shared passion. Last night, he’d hardly undressed you or himself before he was on you, hands nearly trembling with pent-up need, mouth devouring yours with a single-minded intensity that stole your breath — but you’d wanted to see all of him, feel all of him.

But now, the clothes all went into the hamper, except for his shirt. You slipped it over your head, oversized on you, smelling strongly of him, crushed pine and dew-laden cypress underneath the lingering scent of smoke and sweat. With a side-eyed glance toward the bed to make sure he wasn’t watching, you lifted the collar over your nose, inhaling deeply.

Your bare feet padded softly against the floor as you made your way to the kitchen, the soft cotton of his shirt swishing against your thighs. The stack of unwashed dishes in the sink mocked you, as did the takeout containers on the counter, flecks of fried rice hardened into the styrofoam. You went to make yourself a coffee, grimacing at the few remaining clean mugs in the cupboard.

Good thing you were cleaning today.

You slipped on your Bluetooth headphones and started some music as you began to work, first mixing up the batter for your banana bread while the oven heated up, then set to cleaning the new and old messes.

You placed your phone to the side next to your mug. Occasionally you sipped your drink or changed the song, but eventually you found a rhythm when one of your favorite songs came on. Your lips moved silently to the words as you wiped down the counter of some sticky spill, exaggerating the movement along with wide swings of your hips in time to the beat.

But just when you expected the song to end, it began again. You stood for a moment in confusion and went to check your phone only to find Simon standing at the end of the counter, a pair of grey sweatpants slung low over his hips, your phone gripped in his large palm.

You gave him a sheepish smile, happy to see him of course, but—

“Don’t stop, darlin’,” he said, voice gruff, still thick with sleep.

Heat blossomed across your face, embarrassment burning the tips of your ears at his discovery. You weren’t one for dancing usually, not unless there were a few stiff drinks involved — and the right company of course. But Simon’s brown eyes were fixed on you intently. There was no hint of mockery or teasing in the way his gaze dragged up and down your body, taking in the view of you clad only in his shirt.

When he met your eyes again, you saw something molten there, simmering low in earthen shades. Your stomach flipped. You hesitantly began to move a little and resumed cleaning as he’d requested, keenly aware of his stare boring into you, prickling the back of your neck. But soon you relaxed and reached to give your banana bread batter a quick stir.

Two large hands gripped your sides suddenly, nearly making you jump as they slid up and down, bunching your shirt up around your hips. Calloused fingers dug into your softness, denting where you were most plush. Warm breath tickled the nape of your neck as Simon bent to you. He plucked the buds out of your ears so the music began to play on your phone for both of you to hear.

“I like seeing you like this,” Simon rasped, pulling your body back against his, a firm wall of muscle. “So soft and sweet, wearin’ my shirt an’ all.”

It was immediately apparent how much he liked it, the thick length of him pressing right up against you, only restrained by a thin layer of woven fleece. His teeth sunk gently into the crook of your shoulder as you began to rock your hips in time to the music more confidently, swaying side to side with his guidance.

“Fuck, I missed you, doll,” he mumbled into your skin, pressing a line of kisses into the curve of your neck that had your ass pressing back against him. “It’s good to be home.”

“I missed you too,” you breathed, words skipping as one of his hands roamed around to the front of you, over your navel and across your soft tummy.

Toughened fingertips lowered between your thighs. “I can tell,” he said reverently.

Your head tilted back against his chest with a sigh when his hand found the same rhythm as the song. Cleaning was forgotten, all your tasks for the day a distant memory as you placed your hands over his, yours so much smaller and softer, not scarred or battered, highlighting the vast difference between your worlds.

But here, in your shared space, none of that mattered. It was just you, just him.

The song passed and moved on to something slower, and Simon guided you to lean forward until you were bent over the freshly wiped counter. He pushed your shirt up over your back and peppered the length of your spine with gentle kisses, hands gripping handfuls of your plump bottom. Simon’s lips found every bit of sensitive skin, all your favorite spots to be kissed as he worked his way down until he was on his knees. His mouth ended its journey with a tentative lick that had you rocking forward, locked in place between the countertop and him.

The now-preheated oven beeped, pulling your mind away from the moment and back onto your to-do list, the batter ready to be poured and baked.

“Oh! That’s—Let me go for a sec, just gotta put in the—”

You squeaked at the gentle nip at the back of your thigh, a warning and promise in one, firm hands keeping you right where he wanted you.

“Hush,” he mumbled, pressing a kiss to soothe the faint indent of his teeth.

“But it’ll literally only take two—”

Another stripe of his tongue over you had your words fading, dissipating into the oven-heated kitchen air. Your eyelids fluttered shut, lashes fanned out over flushed cheeks.

“Just…let me enjoy this, first, yeah?” he asked, words mumbled into soaked flesh. He rubbed his bristly cheek into the silken skin of your inner thigh. “Been waitin’ for this for weeks.”

“Mmhm,” you conceded, a wet, muffled sound with your mouth pressed into your forearm.

Simon was a man of his word — and he showed you exactly how much he had missed you, acutely attentive to every whimper, every twitch of your legs that told him there, right there. His lips and teeth and tongue proved his devotion, slowing only to tease you and work you back up until your hands were clawing at the countertop, knocking into the bowl beside you.

You pushed it aside and arched your back against the countertop, offering yourself fully. Simon squeezed you everywhere you were soft as he rose and pushed down his sweatpants. You peeked over your shoulder at him, lips stretched into an inviting smile.

The banana bread could wait — just a little longer.

Check out my AO3 or master list for more. :3

[ihatedtoadmit]

I wanna request a fluffy very fluffy poly!OT8 x F!reader where their all dating each other obviously and idk a oneshots of sum fluffy like maybe....the boys have a day off and they just have a cute cozy day together lazily hanging out In the dorm together js so cute and soft baby! Love youuu

word count: 1.6k

genre: fluff, a tad bit of hurt/comfort, kinda went into crack at the end

author's note: Ofc pookie, you can request here anytime. Hope you'll like it!

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All rights reserved. Please do not steal, repost or feed my work into AI. Thank you!

You were looking forward to the next day, the knowledge that all your extremely busy boyfriends were finally having a day off just overwhelming you with giddiness, making you vibe through all night instead of getting your much needed sleep. But it didn’t matter, not to you, the adrenaline returning to your veins just from the mere thought, the schedule you had made for it flashing before your eyes clearly.

You would have the best, most comfiest day with all your boyfriends even if it cost you your soul, dang it!

So, with a passionate fire burning in your eyes -that rested above dark circles, mind you-, you started getting ready. After all the years you had spent with them, you knew they didn’t care a smudge if you put any makeup on or not, never hesitating to compliment you. That was why you decided to skip that step, instead putting on some comfy sweatpants, fluffy socks and one of the boys’ sweater. This one in particular was Jeongin’s, although it changed every week or so, your wardrobe filled with stolen clothes from them all.

Nodding to yourself in the mirror, you got around to taming your hair, throwing it into a lazy bun, but one that was still carefully crafted, certain strands pulled and pushed to stay in their place and frame your face delightfully.

Glancing back, you once again nodded, satisfied with your look, but only after deciding to hide your newly acquired eyebags at least a little bit. You didn’t want to worry the boys, after all, and you knew how fussy they could get.

The ride to their dorms was short, the driver they had sent for you quick and efficient at his job. Although you found it strange none of the idols decided to join you, especially the two eldest, knowing how overprotective they could get. But even after checking your phone for the third time, no new messages from them could be seen, something that struck you as odd.

Never once did they fail to update you about plans, at least one of them quick to write it down for you, along with an apology and a promise to make it up to you.

So what was this all about?

Questions swirled around in your head, the differently coloured little hearts on your screen they had sent blinking back at you. Pushing it to the back of your mind, you shrugged and got out of the car, using an entrance well hidden from prying eyes to get into the building.

The road to their dorms was silent, giving ample time for useless worries to start forming in your head, your earlier excitement slowly dying and leaving exhaustion in its place. Were they hiding something? Were you not good enough anymore? They had each other, so getting the idea that they wanted you as well by their side was something you struggled with constantly, even after long, long years.

Taking a deep breath, you opened their door, your fingers automatically punching in the code from sheer muscle memory.

Glitter and confetti greeted you the moment you stepped foot inside, strings of paper landing on your hair and making it shine as you just stood there, blinking in surprise.

Well, this definitely wasn’t what you were expecting.

Every single one of them were standing in front of you, shouting a warm welcome, their faces lit with the brightest of smiles you had seen in a while. Something that soon started melting off as your eyes turned glossy, too late to hide behind your hands. Well, you tried to anyway.

“Wait, baby, what’s wrong?” - Chan asked, quick to be by your side. “Jagi?” - Jisung was next, arms gently prying yours away from your wet face.

You dove into the quokka’s arms, hiding yourself in there instead, shame still clinging to you harshly. Amidst your sobs, you tried telling them why the sudden tears, words slowly forming sentences. It told them how you thought they had finally gotten bored of you, how relieved you had felt by their warm welcome. They gently shushed you, compliment after compliment leaving their mouths, hands gently gliding along your form.

“Next time we’ll text you it’s a surprise, hm?” - Felix’s deep voice tried to do some damage control, causing you to nod into Jisung’s shoulder. “Yah, what will we ever do with you? Our cute lil crybaby.” - Seungmin teased, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, flashing you his cute smile as a reward. “Minnieee, not now!” “What?” “You’re not really helping with your teasing right now!” “It’s only you and your sensitive soul that cannot deal with it, Hyunjin hyung.”

A dramatic gasp could be heard, chuckling following it, yours joining theirs as well.

“Alright, let’s get our Kitten inside, we can’t stand here all day.” - Minho said, leaving a chaste kiss on Jisung’s lips as he passed by, not before gliding his hand along your bottom.

You gently shook your head at his antics, long ago used to them, the small smile on your face betraying that small fact. Jeongin took you out of Jisung’s arms before the latter could realise it, a devious little smirk on the maknae’s face as he carried you away, a surprised yelp escaping you.

“YAH, YANG JEONGIN, GIVE HER BACK!” “NEVER!”

And thus their little war had started up again, the two usually fighting for the right to cuddle you on the couch whenever you came over. Although usually somehow Seungmin swept you away, the other two too busy to notice you were gone, just like now.

You were now sat in the puppy’s lap, merely 5 minutes after your first abduction, the others too amused to stop any of it from happening. Felix was sat in Hyunjin’s lap, playing with the artist’s fingers calmly. Chan somehow wrestled both Changbin and Minho into his lap, something you had always found extremely impressive, given how fussy both could get, especially that cat.

Fingers started gently massaging your hands, drawing little shapes into your skin occasionally, chasing away the last bit of your worries. A nose buried itself into your hair, a sigh joining it soon after. You practically melted into him, his torso being the only thing holding you up, his arms that circled around your waist keeping you in place.

“Wait– NOT AGAIN!” “Ah, he got us again…”

You couldn’t help the snort that left you at that, the two previously arguing members’ reaction way too funny for you. The others thought so as well, some not even trying to hide their laughter. You could feel Seungmin’s chest rumble behind you with each chuckle, sending pleasant chills through your chest.

“I’m amazed you guys never learn.” - he muttered out, voice muffled from behind your hair.

Jeongin and Jisung merely huffed at that, all their excuses falling on deaf ears.

“No, for real though, how can you guys let it happen every single time?” - Changbin asked, his delightfully shrill laughter hidden in each syllable. “It’s like you fight for the sake of fighting, not even to cuddle our cute babygirl.” - Chan joined in, drawing up an eyebrow at them. “You know they do, Hyung, both too feisty for their own good. Not like I mind it though.” - Minho added in with a smirk, making the bickering couple shut up immediately.

You wriggled in the puppy’s lap, successfully breaking free from his hold, only to jump up with way too much enthusiasm.

“Okay, enough! I have everything planned for today, we’re gonna have all the fun we can! First, we’ll start with a movie, maybe a Ghibli one? Anyway, we watch something while we eat lunch that we should order soon, then we’ll play some Mario Kart so I can beat your guys’ asses again, then me and Lixie will go and bake some stuff like his heavenly brownies, then we’ll all play some Just Dance, then–” - a hand tried stopping your excited rambles, even though you kept listing your plans off in a muffled voice without slowing down even just a bit. “Babe, we get it, but breathe, please.” - Hyunjin begged, having dove at you from his place, Felix still in his other arm safely secured.

Having rambled out your plans, even though no one had heard it besides you, a devilish light glinted in your eyes and you licked the idol’s hand, forcing him to yank it away with a disgusted expression now sitting on his face, dragging the licked palm into your own clothes. Meanwhile, you just giggled there, the sound only becoming stronger by each second, enforced by everyone’s else’s nearby.

Before Hyunjin could grab you to take his revenge, you dashed away and hid behind Jeongin and Jisung, the two still standing instead of sitting down, too entranced by your shenanigans.

“Get out of there and stop being a lil maniac, you–” “Oh, that was a mistake, Hyune.” - Felix commented as everyone watched your expression shift along with Jisung’s, little imaginary horns growing on top of your heads in front of their very eyes.

Why?

Because you both started singing their song, MANIAC, full force, lungs at full capacity and without a single sign of stopping anytime soon. No, you both started even dancing it -well, you kinda tried to at least-, Innie and Felix joining you, while Hyunjin just cringed away from you, looking as if he wanted to dig a hole for himself. Changbin wasn’t far behind to hop up and take his place alongside you, Chan singing his soul out while Minho playfully rolled his eyes. Your puppy was doing something similar as well, but you knew they all enjoyed it, especially when they joined at your request, even the dramatic little weasel.

Truly, their day off couldn’t have started any better.

[whumpback-wail]

06 -  Embrace

Trial by Fire (Wriothesley x Reader) - TW/CW in masterlist

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IMPORTANT NOTICE: Reminder that this fanfic contains dark and mature themes. The TW/CW are in the masterlist and are constantly updated as I add each chapter. Please reread the warnings, proceed only after you reread the warnings. If you don't like/can't handle the topics mentioned in the TW/CW, please DO NOT read. This work is 100000% fictional and any similarities to real life people and events are purely coincidental, and none of the characters (especially the villains) are real. Again, please DO NOT read if you are not certain you can handle these topics or are in a bad place mentally. Minors are strictly forbidden. I only create content, and I am not responsible for your personal content preference and moderation. If you think you will not like this story, please just scroll away. You have been warned.

The snow fell slowly, painting the streets of Fontaine white. Wriothesley's black jacket a stark contrast that stuck out against the white landscape as he briskly walked towards the hospital.

(y/n)...

The anger had slowly subsided, taking its place was a mix of guilt, worry, and something else he couldn't put a finger on. All he wanted that moment was just to hold her in his arms again, and let her feel safe.

Like muscle memory, he walked straight towards her room, but was stopped by a nurse.

“Your Grace, (y/n)’s room has been moved to a different one, a fire seemed to have started there but we managed to catch it before it caused too much damage.”

He cussed under his breath, “where’s (y/n)? Is she okay?”

The nurse nodded, “she’s alright, just a bit shaken. She told us fire suddenly burst out of the book by her nightstand just as she was reaching for it.”

And we’ve only got the information on vision injections today, what’s with this timing.

“Take me to her room.”

“Certainly, right this way, your Grace.”

The nurse, while explaining to him everything that happened, led him to a different floor from (y/n)’s previous room. He immediately knew which room (y/n) would be in once he spotted Navia’s 2 men in front of the door, who promptly stood up and gave him a salute, to which he nodded politely.

“Oh right,” Wriothesley turned to the nurse just as he was entering the room, “there are some new updates for everyone we rescued from that facility, one of Spina di Rosula’s men will be here soon with a copy of the files. Guys might need them for medical purposes.”

When he entered the room, his eyes immediately landed on (y/n), who he initially thought was asleep, until she opened her eyes. She must have noticed his grim expression, because she immediately sat up.

“Wriothesley? Are you okay? What’s wrong?”

He shook his head, taking a seat next to her. He wanted to spill everything and tell her that he knew everything. The things they did in the facility, the experiments, her… assault. But will it cause her to have another panic attack? Does she even want to know, or does she want to just forget? Does she have any idea what happened and how she could set fire to her book? Does she know her vision is still with her even now?

He blinked back his tears, refusing to meet her eyes, but (y/n) could tell from the way he gripped her hand, it was something serious.

“Wriothesley, love, you can tell me,” (y/n) placed a hand on his cheek, to which he automatically leaned into. “I can tell you’re probably worried about my mental state, but hey my therapist told me I’m doing well!”

He recalled, clear as day, the number of times he had tried to bring up questions about what happened at the facility. (y/n) had only managed to explain bits and pieces of information, but had been only the things she knew, she did mention painful injections but didn’t know that it was her own vision that was injected into her. Those sessions had always ended with her crying and panicking. He didn’t want to put her through that.

He smiled bitterly, “I know you are… I just don’t think you’re ready for this.”

(y/n) swallowed, “is it… is it about me?”

Wriothesley nodded, eyes still averted.

(y/n) squeezed the hand that held hers, “I… I think I’m ready to know more.”

Wriothesley looked up, now his steely blue gaze met with her concerned yet nervous ones.

“Are you sure?” his thumb rubbed circles into the back of her hand.

(y/n) took a deep breath, “yeah, I’ll tell you if it gets too much.”

Wriothesley nodded, and told (y/n) everything he learned. The experiments, the vision injections- (y/n) was really shocked at this, although she had a suspicion about it when she saw her book catch fire so suddenly. As he spoke, Wriothesley kept a close eye on her expression and gestures. He’s been with her long enough to know if she’s uncomfortable, or if it gets too much for her. Whenever her breathing hitched, he would stop for a bit and rub her back until she gestured for him to continue.

“That was all we got from the notes left behind at their base,” Wriothesley eyed (y/n) carefully. She was playing with a loose thread poking off the end of her blanket, eyes distant and looking as if she’s processing all the information.

Wriothesley knew he had to keep going. “and now we have Dougier under our custody.”

At the mention of his name, (y/n) visibly tensed up, “oh…”

“I heard he assisted in some of the experi- procedures.”

(y/n) hesitated, “did you manage to get more information out of him? Like how do we reverse the vision injections? How do I control it?”

“Apparently only Arderne knows that bit of information,” Wriothesley sighed, shifting nervously, “and right now he’s still at large. I assure you we’ll get him, and that you’re safe here, okay?”

(y/n) nodded.

The room fell silent for a few tense moments. (y/n) picked up her blubberbeast plushie and held it to her face. It smells like Wriothesley, as he had sprayed his cologne on it. It brings a feeling of comfort to her, as if a reminder that she is never alone and that he’s with her and keeping her safe even when he’s not by her side.

Watching her, Wriothesley hesitated, but he had to- need to ask her.

“(y/n).”

Sensing his change of tone, (y/n) tensed, her hand stopping mid stroke down her plushie’s back. She turned to him.

He seemed to hesitate, looking down at her blanket instead of her face. The silent stretched for what felt like hours before he finally raised his gaze to meet her eyes.

“At the facility- no. uhh… How do I say this.”

He rubbed the back of his neck, “How… How often do you throw up?”

(y/n) blinked, confused. “what?”

“Every morning these last few days, you wake up and rush straight to the bathroom. We did think it was a stomach bug, but when I asked the nurses for the diagnosis, it was as if they're hiding the information from me.”

She couldn’t breathe. It felt as if her blood was frozen but it burned at the same time. Fuck he knew. Wriothesley knew. He’s always been so observant how did she think she can even hide this from him?

“(y/n)... Are you hiding- uhh… Are-Are you pregnant?”

It was like a dam that burst. A sob escaped (y/n)’s lips, one that she tried to hold back but failed. That was confirmation enough for Wriothesley, who felt his own tears prickling behind his eyes. A split second later, (y/n) shot out of her bed, and with wobbly steps using her crutch, went straight to the bathroom. Wriothesley had gotten up to help, but was pushed away feebly. Quickly, she threw open the lid of the toilet and expelled the contents of her stomach into the toilet.

“(y/n)-”

“Don’t-” (y/n) sobbed, flushing the toilet and sinking down even lower onto the bathroom floor, “I don’t want you to see me like this. You shouldn’t have known about this.”

Wriothesley paused, then slowly took another step towards her, hands open as if trying to calm a scared animal. Before he had a chance to speak, (y/n) continued.

“I feel so dirty and gross. No matter how many times I showered and scrubbed myself I can still feel his hands.”

He took a step. “(y/n)...”

“I was going to take care of the abortion process myself, and just forget everything that happened. I didn’t want to tell you. I’m so sorry I couldn't tell you. I just feel so disgusting.”

Another step. “Darling please-”

“I don’t want you to look at me or think of me differently, I just want to put everything behind me, pretend none of that ever happened and just go back to how everything was.”

Wriothesley slowly sank to his knees beside (y/n), who scooted away from him, as if by reflex.

“Don’t touch me. I-I can’t… I know you’ll probably feel disgusted and hate me for it, for hiding it from you, for everything-”

On the contrary, seeing (y/n) like this only served as the final trigger that released his tears, which finally flowed freely down his cheeks. All he wanted to do was hold her and keep her safe, tell her he loves her and… She looked so broken he just wanted to hold her. Archons, please let me hold her.

“I’ll disappear from here if that’s what is best. Just say it. You don’t want me anymore-”

”(y/n),” his voice shook, “I’m so sorry that happened. I’m sorry I wasn’t there to get you sooner. No one deserved to go through what you did. Everyday I hated myself for it, I kept thinking I should have done this, or that. I should have gotten you sooner.”

(y/n) wiped her tears, only for it to be replaced by more. Her vision was blurry as she tried to look at him. Part of her was glad about it, as it probably hid the disgust in his eyes.

“I’m not disgusted by you, no, that was the furthest thing from my mind. (y/n) may I hold you? Please?”

(y/n) just kept sniffling and wiping her tears which seemed to flow endlessly, but made no move to scoot further away, so Wriothesley slowly approached her and took her hand in his. He placed a gentle kiss on it, which only made her cry even more.

“I’m sorry darling, I’m so, so sorry.”

He gathered her in his arms and held her tightly, as if afraid that she would disappear as soon as he let go.

(y/n)’s voice quivered as she asked “y-you don’t hate-”

“Sshhh…” Wriothesley placed a kiss on her forehead, his own tears fell off his cheeks and onto hers. “Something like this can never make me hate you, I promise. I understand why you wanted to hide it, but please know that you don’t have to. We’ll figure out our next step together okay?”

He didn’t know how long they both sat there on the bathroom floor, crying in each other’s embrace. It took a long while for (y/n)’s sobs and sniffles to die down. He kept one hand on her back, and the other stroke her hair, hoping to provide as much comfort as possible.

I love her.

“I wish you can see yourself through my eyes,” Wriothesley whispered in her ea, “it’s gonna be okay. I promise you, (y/n).”

His words were met with silence, as it has been the past few minutes.

“If nothing else I say sticks, at least please let this be the one thing you remember. It’s not your fault. I love you (y/n), you’re still the same old (y/n) I know and love, and Archons, no matter what happens I can’t imagine a life without you. I love you so much (y/n), none of this is your fault.”

He decided to wait a little longer before he noticed that her breathing was slower. Wriothesley peered at her face and saw that her eyes were closed.Tear tracks were still present on her cheeks, which he wiped away with his thumbs, before placing a gentle kiss on top of her head.

Slowly he shifted his position so that he was carrying her in a princess carry, with her head resting comfortably on his shoulder. He walked over to her bed and gently laid her down, tucking her in under the blanket, and placing her plushie right beside her.

For some time, he sat beside her, just admiring her features and tracing her cheeks all the way to her jaw with the back of his hand, light as a feather.

“We’ll get through this together, you and me. I promise you.”

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(っ˘̩╭╮˘̩)っ(ノ_&lt;;。)

If you think reading this chapter is hard, imagine writing it :”D emotional damage

Apologies for the late update, and perhaps a steady decline in writing quality (I’m no writer, just doing this for fun!) as I have been swamped with work this past week after I was down with a bad cold for quite a bit (there’s been a bug around, and so many people were sick :”D) I sincerely thank all of you for your continued support for this series, I love you guys. Hope you all stay safe and healthy!

I hope the next chapter won’t be as hard to write because hoooo BOYE. my bf had to comfort me after I finished writing this chapter.

Taglist: @almosteggs @quuela @tempest1art @yamanaka13-blog @arseneumbra @kimmeaahh @cottonfluffs @randomidk-123 @applejayee @keigo-hawks-takami-simp @mechanicalbeat1 @aribae14 @bforbiblio @supernerdycookietrashblrr @furblrwurblr @chifuyus-kitty @bunnibabe @the-real-fandom-person @idawnghoul

[polyklok]

Thank you @hopedope for sending me this lovely request in a very nice manner! I’m sorry it took me like damn near a year to get it done 😅

Doing Pickles’ Makeup

“C’mon, pleeeeaaassseeee?”

Pickles raised his eyes to you, slightly amused by your begging and more-than-slightly annoyed by your persistence. It was impressive, though. You had caught him at a particularly vulnerable moment of looking through naked lady fan mail and he was in a good mood. With your hard work and determination, you whittled down his several ‘No’s to a ‘Maybe’ and now, finally, a-

“I’ll think aboot it.”

“What’s there to think about? Just lemme take a crack at it!”

You had found an old magazine, of which Snakes ‘N Barrels headlined on. From that, a pretty close-up of Pickles’ glamor days, in which he was smothered in smokey purple eyeshadow and cherry red lipgloss. He doesn’t even know why that magazine was in Mordhaus in the first place. You somehow got it in your head that you needed to see an updated version of his dolled-up look.

He shuffled through a few more letters, no longer taking the time to admire the detailed shots of many-a titties. You leaned forward even more, keeping an eager stare. Damn your puppy-dog eyes.

“Fine. But I’m nat keepin’ it on all damn day.”

A mischievous grin spread across your face. He hated how adorable your evil ass could be.

At the very least, it was relaxing. He insisted the two of you had taken the activity to his room, he did not need anymore comments from his bandmates about how gay his makeup was. You straddled him on his bed, dipping the brush onto the makeup pallet by his head and spreading it across his closed eyelids. He shivered every time your warm breath puffed against his now-highlighted cheeks, fingers gripping harder onto your thighs he was allowed to hold as an added bonus for his troubles.

“M’gonna add shimmer,” You muttered, more so to yourself than him.

“No. Anything but the sparkles.” He said in a flat tone, mocking his earlier reluctance. Although he couldn’t see it, he swore he heard your lips spread into another smile. Maybe he’d let you do his makeup again if it made you this happy. Maybe.

His eyes felt heavier and heavier every time that brush glided against them again. He couldn’t tell if you were adding an ungodly amount of product or if he was just getting sleepy from it. His head sunk deeper into the mattress. He can’t remember why he was so reluctant in the first place. Having you on top of him while he got to practically nap rocked.

“Open your eyes,” You said, softly, ruining the comfortable moment.

“Don’t wanna,” He replied, just as soft.

“Pickles.” Oh shit. He knew not to defy that kind of tone. His eyes immediately shot open, wincing slightly at the sudden light flooding his vision. While you shuffled through your makeup bag, he admired the point of view he had, letting his hands linger up to your waist.

“Here.” You brought out a recognizable tube. Pickles grimaced. Even way back then, this was by far his least part of the process. You popped the mascara out and leaned in even closer than before, placing those little bristles right in his eye line.

“Blink.”

He did so and immediately regretted it. It was so weird to have his eyelashes, a teensy body part he hardly ever noticed on himself, to suddenly be covered in thick goop. But he didn’t fight it, blinking thrice for each eye and pushing down the strong urge to rub it all out. You blew gently on his new lashes, drying them into a thick, heavy fan.

“Yuck,” He mumbled, trying not to let you hear. If you did, you ignored it, simply assuring him that you were almost done.

“You want red, pink, or black lips?” You asked, shimmying down his legs so he could sit up properly.

“Dealer’s choice. I trust ya.”

You chose the black, which was really more of a super dark blue with a pearly sheen. He rested his jaw in your hand, holding his mouth limp to give you the perfect canvas to spread the lipstick on. Just as you were finishing his bottom lip, savoring the intimate moment-

“PICKLES! Toki and Skw-Woah. What the hell?” Nathan kicked open the door, apparently needing to tell Pickles some absolutely essential information, only to find you sitting in his lap and applying fucking makeup to him.

“Jesus fuckin- Nate’n, I told you to start fackin knockin, man!” Pickles turned his head so violently, the black smeared across his cheek in an ugly streak. You frowned, there goes your hard work.

“Pickles is getting his fucking makeup done!” Nathan yelled down the hall.

“Scheriously?!”

“Ha! Dat ams so gay!”

The rest of his bandmates could be heard not too far away. Pickles groaned, “Get the HELL outta here, dood!” He grabbed an empty beer bottle from his nightstand and flung it at the doorframe, shattering it.

“What’re you trying to relive the nineties or something? Gonna go back to your old band?” Nathan was clearly digging into his irritations, playfully enjoying how pissed off Pickles was getting.

“I think he looks hot,” You said matter-of-factly, hugging his head and pressing it against your chest. Pickles went slightly red with the affection, frantically waving his hands to get Nathan to fuck off. Nathan, luckily, understood the signal and promptly shut the door right before the rest of the band could get their mockery in.

“D’ose fuckin’ guys,” Pickles mumbled against you, one again relaxing into your touch, “You really like how I look like this?”

You pulled back, examining his face. His eyeshadow primarily black, blending into a very shimmery gold color. His highlighter was a similar gold and, despite the smudge, his lips looks good enough to kiss. So you did. “You always look good. Just especially now.”

“Don’t give yerself too much credit,” He teased with a smile, dragging you down with him in a tight squeeze. Though he wouldn’t admit it, he loved being fawned over whilst the two of you cuddled into oblivion.