#maybe if five would stop running his mouth things would get better

[unsolvedjarin]

Thinking about a kimi x fem! Driver! Reader who is basically the female version of Sebastian, where the fic is kimi and the reader doing a challenge for Ferraris channel, the reader being a bit of a know it all, and kimi just not caring

You can choose if it’s romantic or platonic:) thank you!

FERRARI AND CHINESE FOOD

pairing: (kimi raikkonen x ferrari driver! reader)

summary: ferrari has a sunshine driver and an iceman driver partake in a challenge for their youtube channel. thankfully, the sun can melt ice.

note: its 1am sorry i have no comprehensive thoughts this is a bit bad but have it anyways i am proud i made this with less than 5 hours of sleep. okay enjoy anon!!!!

content warning: my grammar at 1am

“Another one,” Kimi groans, throwing himself onto the couch in his room.

“Oh come on it’s not that bad,” you say with a grin, closing the door behind the both of you so no one could come in. You’re sure if Kimi had to talk to another person from the media he might explode. “Besides, this next one is the last one for today.”

“For today,” he emphasizes, groaning into a throw pillow once more. You’d both been doing media duties for Ferrari all day, and while it was tiring, you would say some of them had been fun and enjoyable. Although, evidently not for your teammate.

“Cheer up Kimi, it’ll be over soon,” you smile, sitting on the edge of the couch where he was laying down. You sigh, knowing the one thing that would get him to cooperate. “Dinner will be on me after.”

That grabs his attention, slightly pulling himself up and looking at you. “You mean that?”

“God you’re like a child I have to bribe,” you tease, yet with no malice. “Yes, I mean that.” You loved spending time with Kimi, and whenever there were media duties you both always had food afterwards. It was like a reward of sorts.

“Where d’ya wanna go?” Kimi mumbles, laying down on his side and resting his head on his hand. He was staring straight at you, waiting for a response. You think he looked pretty like this.

Smiling at him, you take your hand and run it through his hair softly, unable to help yourself. You would never normally do this, but you barely got moments alone during media week. Kimi grumbles but doesn’t stop you, you knew he always secretly liked it. “I dunno, what’re you up for?”

“Mmm…” he nuzzles into your hand a bit more, “Maybe chinese. I would enjoy some dumplings right now.”

“We can get Chinese then.”

Before you could have another moment of peace, however, a PR agent walked in the room to remind you that your next shoot was in ten minutes. You quickly pulled your hand away and Kimi sat up hastily, trying to fix up his hair. You give the agent an awkward thumbs up, hoping he got the message to leave.

“Okay, you’re right, this incessant filming is a bit tiring,” you say the second the door closes.

“Told you,” he simply replies. You pout in return, slumping your form beside him. He thought you looked so cute like this. Holding your cheek, he kisses your forehead, your nose, then your mouth, making you scrunch up your face. He chuckles, at least he made you feel a bit better.

“I should probably get ready for the shoot. You good here?” You ask, getting up from the couch. Kimi hums a yes, but doesn’t let go of your hand. “I’m not sure if you’re aware, Kimi, but you will have to let go of my hand so I can get to my room.”

He looks at you with puppy eyes for a second before reluctantly letting go, deciding to lay back down on the couch.

“You’re not gonna get ready?”

Kimi shakes his head, eyes already closed ready for a five minute nap. You scoff softly at him, before heading for the door. “I love you.”

“Love you too,” he mumbles. Kimi was not a man of many words by any means, but he would always utter those back to you. Smiling to yourself, you shut the door and get ready for the shoot.

“So this is how the challenge goes: you have to compete with each other on who knows your fellow drivers and each other the best, and of course, most points win. You’ll write your answers on a whiteboard so there’ll be no cheating.” The interviewer behind the camera explains. You nod, giving her a signal that you were ready for them to start filming. Kimi sat beside you on a couch, his face not showing any emotions whatsoever. Looks like you would be doing the heavy lifting on this shoot today.

They snap the check in front of the camera, and the interviewer asks the first question. “Starting with something simple, who on the grid has the most wins?”

“Oh, easy.” you mumble, writing your answer down on your board. Kimi wrote his answer in silence, not talking even when he finished.

“Done?”

You nod, both you and Kimi showing your boards. Lewis Hamilton.

“Easy enough, next question! Who was Y/N’s idol growing up?”

“Aha! You should know this, I told you about it before!” you exclaim, poking Kimi. He grunts, “Not fair, she knows her own idol of course.”

“Sorry, the question wasn’t finished. For Y/N, who was Kimi's idol growing up?” The girl adds.

Oh. Your smile drops as you look to the man beside you who, for the first time in any of the shoots you did today, showed emotion by grinning wickedly at you. “You should get this, I told you about it before,” he teases, echoing your own words. You think for a second before writing down a guess of an answer.

“Time’s up! Can you both please show your boards.”

You reveal yours first, the words Ayrton Senna scribbled down on it. Looking at the man beside you for confirmation, he shakes his head.

“Awh no way! Who’s your idol then?”

Kimi shrugs his shoulders, not answering your question. He didn’t even give Ferrari an answer for that one. He looks at his own empty board for a second before jotting down an answer he’s sure is wrong, but he’s also sure as hell is funny.

Turning his board around, you see Kimi Raikkonen written down with a smiley face beside it. You snigger loudly before replying, “Sure it is bud. In your dreams, maybe.”

“Unfortunately, that is incorrect, Kimi.” The interviewer calls out.

“Go figure,” he mumbles wryly, making you grin even wider.

“No, his answer is correct.” You joke, trying to tease him even more. He gives you a look but you simply keep your sly grin. He decides to drop it, after all he at least made you smile. That in itself deserves a point.

The questions went on for a while, before they got to the harder ones. “Okay, amping it up a notch, who won the 1985 World Championship?”

“Woah, that escalated quickly,” you exclaim, pausing to think for a second.

So far the score was 4-1 for you and Kimi respectively, as he really wasn’t trying at all. You’re pretty sure he could’ve gotten the question about what year Fernando Alonso came into F1 right if he cared. Jotting your answer down to the current question, you see Kimi from your peripheral vision trying to take a peek of your board.

“Hey!” you smack him lightly with your board, “Cheater.”

He smirks, trying to block your second hit. “Wasn’t cheating.”

You continue writing your answer but this time hiding it from Kimi, keeping it as close to your chest as possible. He looks at you for a second as if planning something before going back to write on his own board. Well– he pretends to write something, but you can see him just drawing a star in the corner of his board.

“What’re you planning?” You mumble. Kimi simply shrugs his shoulders, but you can see the slight grin playing on his lips. Locking in your answer, you feel the couch shift slightly to your left. Kimi inched a little closer without you sensing it. He notices your side eye and realizes it’s now or never, and tries to tackle you to see your board.

You shriek, attempting to hide your board from him by sliding down the sofa, to no avail. Your reaction was too slow and he was already on your side of the couch. You were giggling helplessly at this point, unable to contain your joy. Opening your eyes that you didn’t notice you closed, you’re met with a large smile, your teammate proud of himself.

“Get off of me Raikkonen!” You exclaim, using his last name for emphasis. You try to shove him off but he stays solid slightly on top of you, still pretending to try and take a peek of your board. You knew he didn’t give a damn about those answers anymore.

“Say please,” he mutters, still smirking. You truly didn’t know what had gotten into him.

“Please get off of me, you bastard.”

In truth Kimi didn’t want to, he enjoyed seeing your face scrunch up under him with a laugh. He had forgotten about the cameras a long time ago– they weren’t important to him. He just liked seeing you smile. Still, he knew the faster they finished this challenge the faster he could get some alone time with you.

He finally concedes and moves back to his spot on the couch, fixing his hair and going back to writing his answer as if nothing happened. You sit up straight, fix your shirt, and do the same. The crew looked confused, feeling like they saw something that they shouldn’t have. You didn’t care, though. If anyone asked you would just say what you always did, that physical touch was your love language with friends. It wasn’t necessarily a lie, except for the fact that Kimi wasn’t just a friend.

The interviewer clears her throat before speaking up again, “Okay– uh– answers?”

“Prost, of course.” You answer with a smile. You loved studying the history of Formula One. Even though you couldn’t see, Kimi gave you the softest look he has in a while. He loved how you genuinely lit up whenever something you liked came up.

“And you, Kimi?” The interviewer asks, making the man snap out of his moment of adoration.

Kimi flips his board, a Lewis Hamilton written on it. The interviewer shakes her head but continues, “I’m sure that’s a gag answer b—”

“Is it?” Kimi butts in.

“I’m sorry?”

“Is it a gag answer?”

You shove Kimi softly on his side, “Don’t mess with her like that!”

He chuckles, before raising his hands in defeat. “Whatever you say.”

The rest of the game moves pretty quick, save for a quick argument between you and Kimi on what Sebastian’s favorite track was. As you both leave the set, you give Kimi a sneaky grin. “Bold move earlier.”

“Hmm?”

“Doing all that tackling in front of the camera. I thought you were the one who said we should be discreet. You definitely gave Ferrari a lot of bonus content. I’m sure they’ll cut it out though.”

“Ehh,” Kimi shrugs, not replying for a good while as you both walk out the Ferrari building and out into the night streets. You knew he was trying to find the right words, trying to figure out how to articulate his thoughts. It was part of the reason why he didn’t like talking so much.

Once outside he wraps his arms around you, a sign that he was finally back in the present and ready to talk. “I just wanted people to know, you know?”

“Know what? That you have a quarterback tackle?”

He chuckles at the recent memory before replying, “No, that I love you.”

You blush, hoping Kimi didn’t see it. He did. You carry on your conversation, “And how exactly did you plan to convey that message when they don’t even know we’re in a relationship?”

“Hey, Sebastian knows.” He argues.

“Seb hardly counts, he practically forced his way into figuring it out.”

Kimi shakes his head, his arms still around you. “And he walked into a room at the wrong time.”

His comment makes you laugh, a soft smile on your face as you turn to face him. “I love you, you know that?”

“Mhm. Love you too. Even if I don’t say it much.”

Your grin grows even larger, leaning up to kiss him. “You don’t have to say, I know.” He kissed you back, and he could feel your smile as he did. He thinks it’s crazy that he’s hidden such a blessing from the world. How you ever loved someone like him, he didn’t know, but he wouldn’t change it for the world.

Pulling away, he gives you a smile that only you get to see. The softest in the world, looking at you as if you were the world. He breaks eye contact to hold your hand, headed towards the chinese restaurant down the road. “Okay, now dumplings.”

[eldritch-thrumming]

is it casual now?, pt. two

pt. one

my friends call me a loser ‘cause i’m still hanging around. i’ve heard so many rumors that i’m just a girl that you bang on your couch. i thought you thought of me better, someone you couldn’t lose. you said, “we’re not together,” so now when we kiss i have anger issues. you said, “baby, no attachments,” but we’re knee deep in the passengers seat and you’re eating me out, is it casual now?

around one in the morning, steve can’t take the tossing and turning anymore. he calls robin and she just says she’s coming over. she rides her bike all the way to steve’s house in the dark even though he tells her over and over not to do that. she just does.

he both loves and hates that she does.

steve’s on the couch in the living room again, moved back downstairs when he realized sleep wasn’t coming tonight. he’s sitting right where eddie had looked at him and rejected him. right where eddie had decided steve wasn’t worth the trouble. even in the privacy of his own mind, steve knows he’s not being exactly fair, but he can’t stop his thoughts from circling over what happened, over and over and over again, until the night is all smooth around the edges, all the good stuff rubbed away.

so that’s where robin finds him, wrapped in the navy comforter he’d dragged from his bed with the television glowing on mute. the house is dark and she just lets herself in like she always does.

“i take it the talk didn’t go so well,” her voice is light and steve can tell she’s trying not to add any inflection to the statement, trying hard so it doesn’t sound like a question.

“i don’t know, doesn’t every great love story start with someone storming out after the confession?” steve tries to make it a joke, to make it sound flippant, but his voice comes out flat. robin’s mouth quirks up a little any way and he knows it’s something like a pity laugh, but it does soothe the stabbing pain in his chest just a little.

“you wanna talk about it or you wanna let me take you to bed and big spoon the shit out of you?” robin reaches out to run her hand lightly through his hair, just once, before she lets it fall back into her lap. she’s wearing her pajamas, the wide leg of her flannel pants stuffed into her bright yellow rainboots, like she’d left the house in a hurry, couldn’t bother to change or find proper footwear.

steve sighs. “not a whole lot to talk about. i told him it would be kinda cool to maybe… date but he said he already told me he doesn’t really do that. and he’s right. i was just being dumb, i guess.”

“is that how you said it?” there’s a crease between her eyebrows now and she’s got that expression on her face that she always gets when she’s trying to solve a puzzle.

“i mean, not, like, word for word or whatever, but yeah, that’s the general gist of how it went.”

her expression shutters and her jaw sets. “right, well. he doesn’t have to be a super mega asshole about it.”

“he wasn’t,” steve tells her, earnestly. robin is eddie’s friend too and he doesn’t want this whole dumb thing ruining that too. they could all use all the friends they could get at this point, especially ones who get it, whatever it happens to be. “i promise. it was just… my mistake. he did tell me, from the beginning. i just misunderstood.”

robin’s face softens slightly. she reaches her hand out to lock her fingers with his and they sit there in the glow from the tv for a long moment, silent. “let’s go to sleep,” she yawns finally, standing from the couch. “everything will be better in the morning.”

~*~

robin is half wrong, but she’s also half right. things are better in the morning. steve doesn’t feel like his chest is going to cave in at every small wrong move and he doesn’t feel like crying every five seconds after his extensive cry sesh in the shower.

but eddie still isn’t there.

~*~

it’s been weeks since steve has seen eddie. steve’s not stupid. he’s aware that eddie’s actively avoiding him, despite the fact that steve has called the trailer multiple times trying to apologize. he’d left a confusingly vague message with wayne, one he’s sure had made no sense if it was even relayed to eddie at all. picking the kids up from hellfire at the wheelers is a newly torturous experience with the kids now waiting for him on the curb awkwardly instead of making steve wait an extra fifteen to twenty minutes on the wheeler’s gross plaid couch in their basement that perpetually smells like corn chips. everyone seems to be clearly aware that something is up. he’s sure he sees sympathy in mrs. wheeler’s eyes when she waves to him from their front door, thanking him for driving the kids home.

steve’s not exactly sure where it all went wrong. he knows now that he’d blindsided eddie; it was more than apparent now that eddie hadn’t even thought about what he was doing or how steve was feeling. steve spent hours thinking about eddie every day and it was clear now that that was not reciprocated. which is fine, he guesses, but he had thought he and eddie were friends first. they’d saved the world together after all. that tended to bond people forever, he’d assumed, just simply based on his relationships with robin and dustin and even nancy. he hadn’t really accounted for losing eddie completely. but steve was clearly fucking clueless when it came to eddie munson, so maybe he’d actually been wrong about everything all along.

he ping pongs back and forth between feelings of self-pity mixed with self flagellation and feelings of intense, white-hot anger at eddie. one minute, he’s sure this is all his fault, that he really is the dumbest person on planet earth and he definitely deserves to have people leave him constantly when he’s so fucking stupid all the time, can’t even keep his stupid fucking mouth shut and his stupid ugly feelings to himself for one time in his stupid fucking life. the next, he starts to blame eddie for what happened instead, blames him for not understanding steve at all. it’s eddie’s fault for not seeing what was right in front of his stupid fucking face. but after a couple of minutes of that, he’s back to being certain it really was his fault after all.

so after almost a month of no returned phone calls, no surprise visits at work just to say “hey” because eddie couldn’t sit around all day waiting for steve to get off his shift, no casual touches as they chat while eddie packs up his dnd gear, steve finally takes the massive fucking hint for what it is and stops calling. he begs jonathan to pick the kids up from hellfire, lying about a new shift schedule at work. he refuses to drive the kids anywhere that eddie might potentially be, even when the kids insist eddie really won’t be there. he’s trying so hard to convince himself that actually he’s the one avoiding eddie and not the other way around. he’s barely even hanging out with robin anymore, besides work. she seems to get that he needs time alone right now though. steve’s never been more grateful for a platonic soul mate.

but after this long, agonizing month of constantly rearranging his own life to help someone else avoid him, steve’s exhausted. he’s been having more nightmares than usual, ones where the people he loves all take turns dying in his arms. it’s a wednesday when he finally has the night off and he decides to treat himself with sixteen candles and a pizza. he orders his pie and fifteen minutes later he’s pulling his wallet from his pocket before answering the knock on the door.

“what do i owe you?” he asks after the door swings open. he’s got his eyes on his wallet in his hands, fingers moving over the bills folded together.

“oh, um,” a familiar voice stutters. steve’s eyes snap up. “i—“

steve feels like he can’t get any air for a minute. eddie’s just standing on his front step, staring.

steve’s throat feels dry. he has to swallow a few times before he can get any words out, but eddie beats him to it anyway.

“can we, uh. talk?” eddie looks nervous, fiddling with the rings on his fingers. steve steps out of the way, silently letting eddie pass him on his way into the house. the door swings shut and it’s the loudest sound steve’s ever heard in his life.

they stand in the small foyer with its huge ceilings and steve can feel the cold of the tiles through his thin socks. eddie makes no move to enter further into the house, so neither does he. steve shifts on his feet, crossing his arms over his chest, suddenly uncomfortable in the silence of his own home.

“i’m sorry,” steve says quietly, after a long stretch of silence that makes it clear eddie’s not actually about to speak. eddie’s eyes keep flitting around the small space, landing everywhere but steve’s face. eddie shrugs, looking over steve’s shoulder into the kitchen behind him.

“it’s not—“ eddie shakes his head, cutting himself off. steve wants desperately to hear how he’d finish that sentence. almost as desperately as he doesn’t.

“i ruined it.” steve runs his hand through his hair. “i tried calling the trailer… to apologize. left a couple messages with wayne but.” he shrugs.

eddie grunts. steve wishes he knew how to make this better. he can’t tell if the grunt means eddie got his messages or not. he’d thought he was good at deciphering eddie’s noises by now.

“look,” steve says, finally frustrated with the whole thing. “we were kind of friends before we started… hooking up or whatever. i get that you wanted something casual and that i ruined it. i get that i fucked it up and i made you uncomfortable and—i just get it, okay? you didn’t do anything wrong. you were always honest. i was just seeing what i wanted to see and i let myself believe something that wasn’t real. so. i would really like for us to be friends again. i hate this, eddie. it really sucks. i don’t like not seeing you around. i just—this sucks.”

eddie nods, swallowing thickly, but he doesn’t really seem like he’s hearing steve.

“yeah,” eddie finally agrees. “this sucks.”

steve gets the sense that eddie means more than just this whole dumb thing between them, but he’s trying not to be in the business of making assumptions about what eddie means anymore.

“i have a pizza coming,” steve sighs. “if you want to stay?” he can’t help but feel hopeful and he knows this is too much, to invite eddie to stay when they haven’t even really made up yet, but he doesn’t know how to fix this. he’s never been good at this.

eddie glances into the living room and steve’s not entirely sure what he sees or what he imagines, but he watches as eddie swallows again, eyes darting quickly to steve’s face, just once, before he gives his head a small shake. “no, i don’t—i should go. but we’ll see each other, okay, harrington?” and he says it like a question but steve thinks he knows it’s not really a question at all. steve will see eddie any time, anywhere, whenever eddie asks.

steve tries to smile before shuffling toward the door and watching eddie go.

~*~

it’s another ten minutes before his pizza even gets there and when it does, steve’s feeling even more sorry for himself than he has in the last month since he’d asked eddie out. he makes it halfway through the movie and the pizza before he starts to consider calling robin. it’s been a while since they’ve just hung out and that’s been entirely steve’s fault. she hasn’t said anything because she knows steve inside and out, but steve is really missing her right now.

he’s just about ready to pull on his shoes and pick up the phone to tell robin he’s on his way to get her when there’s a knock at the door. half of him is confused, the other half is convinced it must be robin, having sensed his desire for her company. he stands and makes his way to the door, a half smile on his face as he swings it open for the third time tonight.

“look, what happened before is not why i came here, so wait and just let me talk and then you can say whatever you want but if you don’t let me just get this out, i’m never going to say it and i… you deserve to hear it so i need to say it, for real, right now,” eddie’s practically panting as he pushes past steve.

“um okay,” steve tries to get out but eddie glares at him.

“shut up, shut up for real, okay.” eddie crouches down in the foyer of steve’s house, his head in his hands between his knees. his voice comes out a little muffled, but steve can still hear him pretty clearly. “you didn’t ruin anything. you didn’t. really. i ruined it. i ruined a really good thing.”

steve feels like his chest is being hollowed out but he bites his lip, desperate not to interrupt.

eddie groans and steve can see his fingers tense and release in his own hair. “you were so sweet, on the couch. the last time.” he says it like steve could’ve forgotten and steve feels a blush rise on his cheeks. “you… you looked so soft and gooey and hopeful and i—i fucked it up. because back when this whole thing started, it seemed like a miracle that you’d even look at me. like. you’re… you and i’m just me. what the fuck.” eddie laughs almost hysterically. steve feels his fingernails cutting into his own palms with how hard he’s trying to stay still and silent. eddie still hasn’t looked up from where he’s holding himself tight. “and it kept happening and happening and happening and i—i’ve never… i’ve never.”

“oh,” steve can’t help but breathe out in surprise.

eddie shakes his head a little, seems to forget himself and look up and then he’s just staring at steve’s face. he swallows again and steve can see his hands shake. “no, i mean, i’ve… but never… more than once. never all the time.” now that eddie’s looked steve in the eyes, he can’t seem to look away. his eyes look so huge and glassy from where he looks up at steve from his place on the floor. steve feels his heart clench. his fingertips ache. “never like that.” steve nods. “and then you didn’t leave. you didn’t run or pretend it didn’t happen. and you let me pretend it was something it wasn’t, like we weren’t… like it wasn’t… important.” steve’s brows furrow in confusion. “because i was lying. obviously. of course i was. it wasn’t casual. you’d never be casual. not for me.”

“i don’t—“ steve suddenly can’t breathe.

“wait. please.” eddie’s eyes go soft around the edges. “i fucked it up, stevie, because i was lying the whole time. and i thought you were just letting me lie because… i don’t know. i don’t know why, because i know it wasn’t casual for you either. it was all over you. and that was really, really scary.” steve falls to his knees on the foyer tiles, vaguely aware of the dull ache, before sliding closer to where eddie is crouched. he whimpers, just a little, when eddie holds out his palm, presses it to the center of steve’s chest to keep him from getting too close. “hold on, baby, i just. i have to say it, please. gimme a second, i’m just…” eddie gives his head another small shake, as if he’s trying to clear it. “i’m sorry, i guess, is what it really all comes down to. i’m sorry i let you think you weren’t important. i only realized you didn’t know that night on the couch and i… i guess i saw some plausible deniability. a way to walk away without getting, like, totally annihilated. and that’s, you know. my whole issue.” eddie swallows again, hand fisting into the fabric of steve’s shirt. “i was scared. i ran. because… because i love you, stevie. i was falling in love with you this whole time and trying to act like i wasn’t. because i was an idiot. and i couldn’t be the one to break first. but what a stupid, fucked up way to think about it, huh? i love you, man, and you deserve to hear it and feel it and have it, is really what i’m trying to say. i just love you.”

somewhere in all of that, eddie had used his grip on steve’s shirt to pull him in closer so their noses are practically touching. steve can feel the prickle of tears in his own eyes, can feel eddie’s breath on his lips.

“you love me?” even steve can hear how incredulous his own voice sounds.

eddie huffs out a laugh and steve can feel it on his skin. “yeah, dude. of course i do. how could i not?”

“dude,” steve repeats, cause like… really?

“is that all you have to say?” eddie slides his nose along steve’s, nuzzling, skin warm. steve’s eyelids go heavy.

“you left me hanging for, like, a month, bro,” steve tries to joke, but his voice sounds too breathless.

“yeah,” eddie murmurs. “i’m so sorry, baby. can i kiss you?”

and all steve can do is nod.

~*~

the next morning, steve wakes up to soft sunlight filtering in through the blinds he forgot to close last night. he feels hazy, all syrupy and warm, before he bolts upright in his bed. or tries to. because just as he’s moving, he notices the heavy presence on his right arm.

“too early,” eddie groans, shuffling naked under the covers. “turn it off.”

“turn what off? the sun?” steve smiles as he turns to spoon his equally naked body behind eddie. he drops a kiss to eddie’s bare shoulder.

“mmhmm,” eddie hums, and steve can hear the smile in it.

“hey,” steve says, before they both fall back into sleep for a few more minutes. “i love you, too, by the way.”

“oh yeah, by the way?” eddie snorts.

“better than ‘i love you, dude.’”

“oh, you think so?” eddie shifts in steve’s arms until he’s somehow gotten on top of steve, holding steve’s wrists above his head. steve can’t help but thrust his hips upwards in eddie’s direction. “yeah, okay,” eddie concedes, breathless, grinding his own hips downward. “you’re right. whatever you say, beautiful. can’t argue with that. super compelling argument.”

steve has to kiss him just to shut him up.

[folkloresthings]

BECAUSE I LIKED A BOY / CL16.

in which the world’s favourite pop princess becomes tangled in the life of a certain formula one driver, flipping her entire world upside down.

( charles leclerc x singer!au )

track one: lonesome. track two: fast times. track three: nonsense. track four: opposite. track five: how many things. track six: bad for business.

✩⡱ warnings: nope

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charles_leclerc starting P3 in abu dhabi for the final race of the season! fingers crossed for a good result

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carlossainz55 a good result in the race or somewhere else

⤷ charles_leclerc shut it

user 2022 season almost over :(

landonorris bring it on 😏😏😏

scuderiaferrari let’s race!!

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yourusername MY NEW ALBUM “emails i can’t send” OUT AUGUST 14. this year has been a whirlwind of emotions but it’s given me a lot of very dear songs. thank you for your patience 💌

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user NEW MUSIC ALERT

gracieabrams squealing with excitement

arianagrande SO excited 🤍

user a whole album inspired by austin AND charles???? yes please

landonorris preordered and presaved can you send me a signed copy

taylorswift EEK!

it was finally here. the weekend of the final grand prix in abu dhabi, the end of another season of racing. you’d had your flight booked for weeks, but you hadn’t decided what you were going to do with it. all of your contemplating had made you late to the airport, having to rush through the terminal just in time to make the flight. and even then, thousands of miles in the air, you kept wanting to turn back.

you wanted charles, that much you knew. but you didn’t want to get hurt again, you were sure your heart was running out of bandaids.

no one knew you were here, besides lewis. he had helped you sneak in and out of the hotel, and into the paddock, without being caught. you didn’t want to let anyone know you were here, considering you might still change your mind at the last second.

but then it was sunday, before you knew it, and you were donning a red ferrari cap as you waited the race prep out in lewis’ driver’s room. every so often, you got the sudden urge to get up and run away, far far away. your heart was racing — maybe charles had changed his mind since you last spoke. three months was a long time, long enough to find someone else.

the race began and you watched it intently on the screens, biting at your fingernails every time charles rounded another corner. come the final lap, your feet were carrying you out to the paddock, away from the mercedes hut and towards ferrari. the crowd erupted nearby, charles crossing the finish line in P2. your heart swelled with a thrill, happiness for him filling you. a podium on the last race, something he’d spoken of time and time again.

you squeezed yourself through the celebrating ferrari employees, right to the front of the fence, watching as charles’ car pulled into it’s space after the cool down lap. you pulled the hat off, hoping your hair on show would catch his attention better. his fist pumped as he clambered out of the car, pulling off of his helmet and beaming at the crowds.

by instinct he moved to run towards the group all in red, the usual celebrations waiting to follow. but the monegasque driver stopped, his eyes stuck in the middle of the group. on you. you had come — you had actually come. charles could have pinched himself, sure he could never have gotten so lucky.

you felt your mouth run dry, unable to read his expression from where he was standing. everyone around you carried on celebrating, but the two of you were frozen. you smiled a little, shoulder shrugging with a slight chuckle. and when he smiled back at you, you knew.

you knew this was where you were meant to be.

INSTAGRAM.

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charles_leclerc possibly the best race of my life, i won the greatest prize of all ❤️❤️❤️ oh and i got P2

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user SCREAMING

landonorris i cried seeing that on the screen after the race

carlossainz55 they grow up so fast 🥲

user i never thought i’d live to see this day

scuderiaferrari OUR FAVS!!!!!!

yourusername my one and only ❤️‍🔥

⤷ yourusername pls ignore all the times i curse u out in the new album thanks 👍

writers note: i was THIS 🤏 close to her not getting on the plane

[jhkfan123]

you're losing me | coriolanus snow

pairing: coriolanus snow x !fem reader

in which: after a work trip, y/n finds coriolanus with another woman

warnings: angst, conflict, cheating, shouting, panic attack, no happy ending (only read if you want to depressed)

wc: 1.8k

a/n: i'm actually not sure where this came from but i am lowkey proud of the writing.

"you say 'i don't understand' and i say 'i know you don't'"

you were so excited to come home early. surprise him. bring home his favorite dinner for him.

you had been gone three days now. it was a trip for all the interns at the job you had been interning at. in fact, you were studying your favorite subject. you were desperately looking forward to actually starting your career with the people you were now working with. but they had let you come home a day early. because today was your birthday, and you wanted to spend it with the love of your life.

with the bag of food in your hand, you opened the door to the penthouse. it was dark out, and there were no lights on, so you flipped one on. he was not in the main room, so you placed the food on the kitchen table and began to search for him. you checked the living room, nothing, so you headed for your bedroom. from under the door, you could see that the lights were off, which had you thinking maybe he wasn't home. nevertheless, you opened the door.

you shouldn't have. you should have stayed on your regular path. you should not have come home early, then you could have lived with him blissfully unaware.

but you did. you opened the door. and you found him, with clemensia dovecote. giving her kisses in places he hadn't given you in a long time. he quickly stopped when he heard the door creak open. the two of them immediately started shuffling around, and you slammed the door. you gazed at the closed door for a moment, realizing what you had just seen. then you ran to the bathroom, and locked the door. you slid down on the door, and began to breath very heavily.

every time you tried to capture your breath, you would lose more air. every time you tried to breath in and out, in and out, in and out, you just choked. you felt warm tears stream down your cheeks, which sent you into another spiral. you ran your hands through your hair and tried to get yourself together.

you had been dating him for three years. three years. three years. and now he throws it all away? since senior year. the two of you had been dating, since before the 10th hunger games. He went away to district 12, and when he came back, he came running back to you.

you never thought this of him. he was protective, and jealous, and seemed to be obsessed with you.

on the bathroom floor, you tried to calm down. you tried the only thing you knew.

five things you can see: the floor, the sink, the toilet, the shower, the candle on the counter.

four things you can touch: the cold floor, the towel hanging low on the rack, your own arm, the drawer near you

three things you can hear: the buzz of the air conditioner, your breath, and shuffling in the hallway. that didn't help

two things you can smell: the lingering scent of the candle from when it had most recently burned, and the scent of your body wash in the shower, even though it was faint

one thing you can taste: the salty tears now running into your mouth.

you could now take slightly deeper breaths. you realized you would have to go out there soon. maybe you would wait two minutes. maybe clemensia would leave.

clemensia. you hadn't even seen her since graduation. you thought he hadn't either. clearly that was wrong.

the two of you had a strange relationship. you were always jealous of her, but for some reason, she was always jealous of you too. anything you would do, she would do better. and anything she would do, you would do better. it was a constant battle to be on top.

you thought you had won. you got the guy, the grades, the job, everything. now you weren't so sure.

you took one final deep breath, attempted to balance and get yourself up. you unlocked the door, and almost opened it. but then a knock was heard from the other side of it. you opened the door and saw coriolanus with his head down. you pushed past him and made your way for the kitchen. he began to walk behind you.

"hey, i-" you heard. you pivoted on your foot and stopped abruptly. he jumped back.

"what the fuck, coryo." was all you could get out. he winced at his nickname. "really! clemensia dovecote!" you felt tears stream down your face again.

"look, it didn't mean anything" he sighed out.

"that's all you can come up with? coryo," he looked like he hurt more each time you said his name "then why would you do it in the first place!" you shouted. you didn't mean to, but it wasn't your decision. it just happened.

"i," he began to stutter. you could tell he was trying to make up excuses.

"please don't make excuses. be an adult." you said. you closed your eyes to get the remaining tears out.

"i don't know." he responded. you sighed with immense disappointment.

"yes you do. yes you do." every time you were stressed, you had a habit of repeating yourself. it was comforting, hearing yourself. "you wouldn't-" you took a deep breath. "you wouldn't have done it if you didn't have a reason." now he took a breath.

"she had been reaching out to me a lot recently. i didn't tell you anything because i didn't think it was anything. then-"

"how long." you asked. he looked up at you as you interrupted him. "how long have you been with her." you desperately wanted to know. "how long have i only been loving half of you. how long have i only been loved by half of you" you asked.

"i swear, i swear it was only tonight." he said. that actually made it worse.

"coryo, it's my birthday." you choked on tears that were now streaming down your face again.

"i, know. i know." he seemed to be kicking himself. he attempted to get closer to you, but you backed up. now the two of you were on opposite sides on the island.

"what did i do." you asked. double the amount of tears were coming down now. "how badly did i screw up that you did this."

"you did nothing, my love. it's my-"

"do not call me that." you cut him off. he nodded in acceptance that he didn't get that right anymore. he didn't get any part of you anymore. you could have swore you say his eyes get teary, now.

"she came on to me." he explained.

"you could have got her off. but you didn't. you kissed her. and you kept kissing her. and you took your shirt off. and that's the image i walked in on. do not put this on her. yes, she shouldn't have done that, but it's your responsibility, coryo. it's your responsibility to tell her no." now a tear did stream down his face as he listened to you. "so i ask you again, what did i do?" you felt yourself getting weak. you were so disheveled and out of it that you hadn't realized how hungry you actually were.

"you didn't do anything." he responded, fairly quickly.

"then why!? why would you ever do this!" you shouted again. snot getting everywhere and your vision become more blurry with each tear.

"it just happened. you didn't do anything. and i'm a horrible person and i know this is a horrible situation and you don't deserve this at all, but please, believe me, when i tell you that i love you." the words stung you like an alcohol wipe on an open wound. the words felt like a stab in your back, like a stab in your heart.

he made his way over to you again. you were to weak to back up. you looked up at him, your vision allowing you to just barely see his silhouette.

"coriolanus, i don't even know if i can believe you anymore." you crumpled this time. the tears all came out at once. you began to sob, and then your legs gave up. you fell to the floor in agony. you felt coriolanus grab you, and you didn't move. you had no energy to. but how could he even allow himself to touch you like this?

he got down onto the floor with you, and held you around your chest while you sobbed. he didn't say anything. he was probably lost in the smoke of his guilt, that had now flooded the entire penthouse.

the warmth of his body would have normally felt comforting, like cuddling in a warm blanket. but not now. you were ice cold. shivering from your hunger, and your tears. not even the heat of his body could melt the quickly freezing heart you had for him.

it felt like hours passed before you finally managed to see your surroundings. when you managed to finally calm yourself down enough to stand, you moved yourself away from coriolanus. then you sat. both of you, at the island.

the two of you were silent. the two of you had nothing left to say. the two of you had nothing left to do. all you could do was do the next right thing. and in your mind, that was to go somewhere. anywhere but here.

"i'm leaving." you got up, took a second to gain your balance, you still hadn't eaten after all, and grabbed your bag.

"it's freezing out. please, stay." he begged. his eyes were also dried out from the tears he shed.

"i walked here, earlier. i can walk back." you replied.

"where will you go?" he asked. you thought. you had moved in with him after graduation. his home was the only one you knew for the last three years of your life.

"i'm going to go stay with a friend. and then, i am going to come back, in a few weeks, and get my stuff. move out." you laid out your plan for him. you saw another tear fall from his face.

"are you sure?" he asked.

"coriolanus, i'll be fine." you began to make your way towards the door. then, you paused. a single tear flowed down. "i will miss you, though. i hope you know that." you said. you refused to turn back. you refused to look at him. if you did, you thought you might go running back to him. if you did, you would never look away again. so you opened the door.

"i'm always going to love you. and i'm always going to be here. for you." he said. your heart begged you to look back, but you couldn't. not after that.

and, even though it slowly broke every part of you. you steadily closed the door behind you.

[fanatic-writers]

Loki Drabble

A/n: Just a little thought I had while watching the new episode of Loki. Requests are open!

Word Count: 844

Pairing: Loki x TVA!Reader

Summary: The three times Loki sees you in the past and the one time he finally catches up to the present

Warnings: Unedited, Season 2 spoilers ish

You were at your desk in the TVA when you heard the commotion of your coworkers gawking at someone in front of you. “Y/n,” a strange man gasped as his hands came to cup your cheeks “gods darling you have to help me.” Your brow furrowed in confusion as you moved out of the man’s grasp. “You have five seconds to explain why you’re grabbing my face and calling me darling before I prune you.” You huffed in response, hand already searching for your weapon. “Darling, it’s me. It’s Loki.” He raised his hands in surrender as you shoved your time stick in his face. “Loki!? You mean the variant I’m supposed to be hunting down Loki?” You raise a brow, charging up the weapon and preparing to use it. Loki looked hurt, defeated even, as he seemed to melt into despair “You-you don’t remember me?” He frowned “I remember it's my job to get you off the timeline so the world doesn’t end.” You spoke as you lunged towards him. Loki was quicker though, sprinting through the hallways as you called for backup. You turned around a corner after him and heard a sort of yelp before you watched him seemingly get ripped from the universe. “What the hell was that?” You frowned as you looked to the men around you who just shrugged in response.

He had been moving through the TVA for a while now, through time more than space it seemed. He felt his body being ripped apart and pulled back together, he kept his eyes closed for a moment before he registered a scream that sounded oh so familiar. “Y/n?” He started hands already up as he approached you apprehensively. He’d had his fair share of run-ins with the past yous now and he just wanted you to recognize him. Maybe this was the actual war that He Who Remained had promised him. A war inside himself every time he saw you and you didn’t recognize him one bit. Didn’t remember the fight you’d put up for Mobius to keep him around, didn’t remember the adventures you’d been on with him. “Please don’t hurt me.” You mumbled and it was then that Loki realized that this you was different from the others. You were younger, the emotions you usually kept steeled away were present on your face, the main one being fear. He took a cautious step toward you “I could never hurt you.” He mumbled, looking into your confused eyes. He opened his mouth to speak again but before he could he was being ripped away once more, his hand reaching out to you as if you could save him.

“Where the hell do you think you’ve been?” Your voice echoed down the hallway as you marched up to Loki, looking decidedly pissed. “Darling-“ He started but you stopped him before he could get to far. “I stuck my neck out for you and then you escape?” You huffed, arms crossed over your chest. “I should’ve just let Mobius kill you after your little movie but no, I felt bad, and this is what it gets me.” You paused for a moment in your rant “And stop calling me darling, it isn’t going to win you any brownie points.” It must’ve been his first day he realized a little too late as you began to slip cuffs over his wrists and drag him back to the room he was held in. “You’ve got the wrong guy.” He tried to explain but even he didn’t know if he would be able to talk his way out of this one. “Oh, so there’s some other you running around wearing the exact same clothes doing the exact same thing as you?” You raised a brow as you shoved him into the room. “Honestly, for the god of lies, I thought you’d be better at the whole talking your way out of things. I mean seriously ‘you’ve got the wrong guy,’ I’m not a child Loki.” You mocked his voice as best you could and he couldn’t help the small smirk that came to his lips, remembering the other times you’d done it in far less serious matters. “Stop looking at me like that.” “Like wha-“ “Loki?! LOKI! What the hell!?” You looked down at the cuffs that had fallen to the floor and sent a message to Mobius that Loki was still at large.

You were walking out of the war room the next time he spotted you “Y/n, I don’t have time to explain but you know me and I need your help.” “I know I know you?” You looked at him confused “I’m more concerned about the whole appearing in front of me as a stringy flesh monster.” Loki breathed a sigh of relief and wrapped his arms around you “I love you darling, please don’t forget me again.” He paused for a moment pulling away to look at you “Stringy flesh monster?” “I’d say that’s a good way of putting it.” Mobius piped up from behind you.

[ddejavvu]

PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE can we get reader being harassed by some guy in an alleyway and hotch is walking by with the team (perhaps going to get drinks after wrapping up a case) AND HE LIKE STEPS IN AND THREATENS THE GUY?? MAYBE EVEN FLASHES HIS BADGE OR SM. Basically I'm thirsty for some protective!hotch <3

You're reminded of how unpredictable life can be when you're yanked backwards unexpectedly, tugged into the darkness of a shadowed alley between two buildings. Five seconds before you'd been thinking about dinner, and now you're not sure you'll live to see another meal.

"Cash," The man grunts, his mouth pressed to your ear as his arm cuts tight around your neck, "I need cash."

"My- my bag," You whimper, frozen stiff in fear and rendered useless, "I- I don't have much, but you- you can take it."

He throws you forwards, ripping your bag off of your shoulder in one fluid motion. He rifles through it while you relearn the art of breathing, but before he can pull your measly collection of bills from the inside pocket of your wallet, there's a gun over your shoulder pointed at his head.

For a moment, you're so dazed that you honestly think you might be holding it. But you don't have a gun, and your wrist doesn't have the dark, wiry hair on it that you see beneath a grey sleeve of whoever's got the weapon.

"Drop the purse, and the knife." A voice booms through the alleyway, deep and firm. If it was directed at you, you'd spook like a horse, and your assailant looks properly terrified.

"It's just a little cash, man," Your attacker tries, "I- I know her! She's my girlfriend."

Your savior knows he's lying before you shake your head vigorously, but you do it anyways, because sitting there and doing nothing feels wrong.

"You've already assaulted someone in front of a federal agent, don't make it worse for yourself by lying about it, too. You're lucky I don't have my cuffs with me or I'd haul you into the back of my SUV and take you down to the station right now. Instead, you're going to drop the purse, and the weapon, and run as fast as you can, because the more time you sit there and let me look at you, the better my chances are of describing you to a sketch artist and placing a warrant out for your arrest."

By the middle of the man's speech, your attacker is trembling just as much as you are. He drops your bag and his knife on command, barely avoiding tripping over the edge of the gutter drain as he flees the scene.

As soon as the gun isn't necessary anymore, the man behind you stashes it in a holster, but you can't see, your back feels permanently adhered to the wall you'd backed up against.

"You're okay," The man assures you, and his voice is much more soothing at a softer tone. He bends to gather your purse, tucking a tube of chapstick back into its confines before holding it out as a peace offering to you.

"He's gone," He promises, ducking down where your eyes are stuck to peer worriedly at you. He has a handsome face, but it's pinched in concern, big brown eyes dripping with care, "And I will put that warrant out for his arrest. Are you alright? Did he hurt you?"

"No," You breathe, still pressed to the wall even as you shake your head, "No, he- Thank you, I- I don't know what I would have done without you."

"I usually show up to these things a little late," He grimaces, dropping your purse back down to his side and holding out an empty hand instead, "Can I help you get where you were going?"

"Home." You mutter, "I was- I was going home. After work."

"I can drive you there, if you'd like." He offers, pleased when you reach out with a shaky hand to take his own, "Or we can walk, whichever you prefer. I just want to make sure nothing else happens."

"Um, I- I can pay for a ride. Here," You take your purse back, tugging a bill out that you're lucky to still possess, "If- it's just down the street, if you really don't mind."

"Keep it," He pushes your hand back towards your purse, "I just stopped a guy from taking your money, I'm not gonna do the same. My car's right outside, okay? Let me help you there. And- uh," He rifles through his jacket, "I wasn't lying about being an agent." He showcases a black-covered badge, Supervisory Special Agent Aaron Hotchner written in bold lettering beneath his name, "You'll be safe with me."

"Okay," You nod, accepting the hand that he holds your arm with to ease you off of the wall and onto your shaky legs, "Uh, thank you, Agent- Hotchner."

"No need." He murmurs, eyes scanning the crowd to make sure there's no sign of your assailant, "Let's just get you home safe, honey."

[saerins]

─── 𝐒𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑

+ itoshi rin x f!reader | wc 6k | content: mostly fluff, some angst, rin is so awkward, childhood friends to lovers

notes: my first time writing something for rin so i’m nervous but i hope you guys like it <3 pls i hope i didn’t butcher him >_< rbs & feedback appreciated muwah !

summary: rin thinks about you all the time, for better or for worse. problem is, he really shouldn’t be anymore. things never seem to work out for the both of you, will trying even make a difference this time?

rin knows you don’t like flowers. no wait, you like them, you just don’t like receiving them. you cried once, when the flower he plucked for you died within a few days in your makeshift vase.

rin also knows that while other girls dream of their dream wedding, you dream of a nice cosy house, a modern one with touches of japanese accents. he likes to hear you talk about it. he likes to hear you talk about anything at all, actually.

he’s known you ever since you were both little, since you were both five and just two kids in the playground playing hide and seek.

rin would always win, because you’re as clumsy as it gets and you’re not that observant. you could never find him, even if he’s right there. he likes it though; seeing you look for him, that little panicky look in your eyes when you think he’d ever actually abandon you and run off.

he played with you whenever he could—you were both neighbours after all. it was fun, being with you was fun.

you reminded him of new beginnings, like how it feels like jumping into a pool after a long hard day of training, or how the sun feels like hitting your skin on a cold winter day.

it was second nature for him—to seek you out whenever he had a hard time, to look for you when he needed a distraction, to search for you in the crowd to seek some familiarity.

but it’s easy for flimsy things to break. the both of you were just kids, and kids did childish things, like think only for the moment and not further into the future, did silly things like saying you’d marry one another with fake paper rings and forget it the very next day (rin remembers). kids also handle things in a bad way, in the way that leaves no room for the friend they pushed away.

if rin regrets anything from his past, it’s that he took sae’s departure out on you.

rin doesn’t know how to process things well. can’t decide why exactly he’s so pressed about sae’s choice of words. doesn’t know what to make of why he even plays soccer. is it just because of his brother?

he doesn’t fucking know.

rin’s sorry.

it isn’t your fault his brother found a different path. you had nothing to do with it. you and those brownies you cooked for him. he’s sorry that he let them fall to the ground and just stormed off.

that was what, three or four years ago? you’d moved out by then, and the both of you had never spoken since.

if he’s being honest, he misses your presence. maybe it’s the fact that you were his manifestation of a safety net, someone that he could fall back on, someone he could lean on.

maybe he’s just being an asshole.

now he’s seventeen and probably even more of an asshole. if anything, sae’s departure left a bitter taste in his mouth that he wasn’t able to cleanse.

but he’s lucky you’re you. you’re you and that means you don’t hold grudges and you’re still the kindest person he’s ever known.

“rin?”

he stops his hand in mid motion, the key between his fingers dropping onto the wooden floorboards below. rin can’t seem to function anymore—he knows that voice. all too well.

it’s the voice that made him excited as a kid, it’s the same voice that comforted him whenever he fell short of perfect, the same voice that haunts his dreams sometimes at night, even now.

rin turns around and sees you there, at his front porch, smiling all awkwardly and chuckling nervously, your hands in your pocket because you never know what to do with them when you’re uncomfortable.

“hi,” is all he manages to choke out because he’s still a little stunned and his key is long lost and forgotten on the ground.

“hey stranger,” you grin, and his heart beats faster and faster as you get closer and closer.

the both of you are no longer kids, and it’s so painfully obvious now in front of him. he can’t stop fucking staring even if his inner voice is screaming at him to.

“i thought you moved away,” rin manages to say, and because he’s really curious as to why you’re even here, in this place you’re not supposed to be, talking to someone you haven’t spoken to in years.

“i’m, uh, here just to visit my family,” you stutter out, and rin wants to call you out on it so bad, but he can’t do that without exposing himself.

how could he possibly tell you that he knows none of your family is left here in the neighbourhood because he’s asked everyone who used to be in contact with your family? how can he possibly say that without exposing himself for going through your social profiles just to find out that you’ve moved out to another city with your entire family?

so, what are you here for then?

“hey, you wanna, uh, go eat dinner together? or something? later?” you’re so awkward rin could die. rin’s so awkward he could just kill himself.

the silence is deafening and it’s not that he doesn’t want to have dinner with you, it’s just that he has soccer training in the evening and he’s still in shock from the fact that you’re here in the flesh and—

“it’s okay, forget i asked, i was just—”

“no, i mean,” rin trips over his own words and the two of you are just two stupid idiots standing on the itoshi family’s porch doing stupid idiot things. he takes a deep breath, “where should we eat?”

that smile you shoot him is deadly and he wants to keep it forever. if that’s even possible. but he’s really awkward with his feelings and he doesn’t even know what he feels for you. all he knows is that he wants you to stay here again, be within reach for him.

“pick me up at six on your bike?” you nod over to his bicycle, and he blushes so hard because despite getting countless valentines from other girls, none of them have the same effect on him as you do.

rin thinks he should shake his head and say no and pretend like you don’t exist again. he shouldn’t go on this pseudo date with you.

yet he does. he picks you up where you said you’d be, at a hotel near the heart of the city. he’s on his bicycle, just like you asked of him, and you definitely dressed for the ride, comfortable in shorts and a tank top. you’ve gotten from cute to so so pretty and rin finds it so damn difficult to tear his eyes away from you.

when you get on the back of his bicycle, you put your hands around his waist and he can actually feel how fast your heart is beating. rin’s is too, but he’s grateful you probably can’t tell.

also at your request, he takes you to a spot he chose—which is nothing extravagant because you’re both still broke students who haven’t earned your own money, but he thinks you’ll like it anyway.

after getting some cup noodles from a nearby convenience store, he pedals over to the playground the both of you used to spend ages at when you were kids. the place where you used to play hide and seek with each other.

it’s a place of significance. at least, to him. he wonders if you even remember this place.

“nice choice, itoshi rin,” you say, and rin has his answer. “i missed this place.”

and rin missed you, but he isn’t going to say that.

“i’m surprised you remember,” he tells you, choosing to sit down on the swings. you follow and sit on the only other one beside him, your cup noodle hot and ready in your hands. “how’s kyushu?”

you slurp up some of your noodles, and rin thinks you look beautiful just like this anyway. “it’s okay, made some friends so that makes it more tolerable.” you’re shrugging like it’s no big deal, but he can tell by the faraway look in your eyes that there’s more to it.

“tokyo’s better, huh?” he isn’t much for small talk, but he can’t help himself—it’s been far too long without you, and he wants to feel close to you again. it’s as though after everything that happened—sae moving abroad, you moving away, rin feeling lost—it’s like he doesn’t really know how to be your friend anymore.

nodding your head, you turn to him. “much better.”

and rin can’t help but think that there’s a deeper meaning to your answer. but he doesn’t press.

maybe he should’ve, because when you switch the topic, he finds he doesn’t like what he’s hearing.

“anyway, i’m only here for a day,” you tell him, going back to your noodles. “i fly back tomorrow.”

some part of him wants to ask you why you’re even here. he wants to know about the you now, about how much has changed in these few years, what you like now—do you still like hot chocolate in the winter, do you still get colds easily, do you still think about him after all this time?

“are you… going to come back for college?” because if you still wanted to go to university in tokyo, you’d have to move back here. rin thinks he’d like that.

you’re a little taken aback because from what you’d heard from your old friends, rin had become someone they barely recognised; cold, blunt, more like his brother than himself. but in front of you now, you feel like the rin you know is still in there.

but this is where it gets hard.

“actually…” you trail off because you don’t really know where to start. “i got into a university in america. my mother got a job there and she wants me to go with her.”

you don’t even want to look at him right now. you don’t really know what you want to see. some silly part of you wants to see that he minds, that he’ll make a big deal out of you going away somewhere even further than the other side of japan. but if he doesn’t, if he looks like it doesn’t affect him at all, then you don’t think you can handle that.

“oh.” ever the best at giving a non-response, you’re not surprised.

it’s silent for a while, and the two of you are just eating your noodles, and it’s so suffocating that you want to bolt and run but that means you probably won’t ever get to see rin again and you don’t want that.

your body is screaming at you to do something, to say anything, to savour whatever time you have left with rin now properly—but you can’t.

beside you, the gears are turning in his head. rin’s noodles are already gone and he isn’t even aware his chopsticks are grappling around for nothing but soup.

america? that’ll mean you’re at least twelve hours away and he can’t even imagine what that’ll mean for your friendship. or whatever the fuck this muddy waters is.

rin wants to say something, anything—but what? don’t go? when are you coming back? are we ever going to be at the same place at the same time again after tonight?

he’s conflicted between his possible feelings and his selfishness. so he resigns to not saying anything at all. all that’s left for the night is hearing the wind blowing past your faces and the creaking of the swings, very much like how he envisioned a bad goodbye to go.

that night he gives you a ride back to your hotel despite your insistence that it’s late. because who do you take him for? did it mean nothing to you that this might be the last time?

“so, uh, i’ll see you around, i guess,” you say as you step off of his bicycle, after a trip that seems way too fast. rin already misses the sensation of your arms around his waist.

he thinks it’s a stupid sentence. realistically, in every single way he can think it’ll play out, it ends with the both of you drifting apart anyway, and he finds himself wishing you never came back.

which is untrue. which is the furthest it could possibly be from the truth. but rin doesn’t want to think about that right now.

“okay then, goodbye,” rin decides, because he’s not about to get his own hopes up for nothing. if you’re about to vanish, then maybe it’s high time he gets it done.

rin steps on the pedal, but then you stop him, voice clear as the first day he met you. “rin, wait!”

you’re not sure why it slipped out, but it did.

“what is it?”

his eyes are cool, calm, a dead teal that stares right through you. you’re almost intimidated because you’re not sure just what he’s thinking of you right now. he must think you’re a freak, showing up like this and dropping a bomb that he may or may not care about.

“um, nothing, it’s just- is there anything else?”

some part of you wants him to ask you to stay in tokyo. maybe the both of you could find a university together and stay in close proximity, just like when you were kids, just like how you liked it.

just like everything you missed.

and now the two of you are staring at each other, knowing yet not knowing everything that’s going through one another’s mind. but it gets lost in translation because neither of you can find the words to say.

rin blinks at you, and you can’t even read him if you tried. “no, nothing. is there something you wanna say?”

you shake your head, smiling through it. “no, nothing. goodbye.”

you’re back through the hotel double doors before you know it, and rin’s left to watch your silhouette fade away.

for the first time in his life, he feels like he’s lost something precious that he’ll never find again.

life goes on.

rin graduates from high school and so do you. the texting stopped, and that much he expected. better to cut the cord sooner rather than later, even if rin wished for otherwise.

he rides on a full scholarship to university, and from the online grapevines, he hears that you’re doing the same. you’re smart, so he’s not surprised.

this is the right thing to do; both of you have your own lives to concentrate on. some stupid crush doesn’t matter. and yes, rin has already conceded to the feeling because he can’t explain this any other way.

his frustration that comes from your separation, his anger when it comes to being helpless, his endless regret from not saying anything that night—it’s only because he wants you.

“i hear y/n’s doing good at her new school,” rin hears his mom cooing from the kitchen. he sighs. of course she did, yours and his moms are both close. yet another channel through which he can get updates on you, warranted or not.

“yeah?” he pretends not to care much, but he’s hanging on her every word.

“yeah, it’s valentines’ day around the corner too, i hear she has lots of guys lining up.”

kill him. kill him right fucking now.

“good for her.” good for you he’s not there to stare daggers at all the guys ogling at you. good for you he’s not there to commit bloody murder.

“i think so too, ah she’s all grown up,” his mother chatters on, completely oblivious to the torment she’s subjecting her son to. “i hear she’s having her first date next week, i heard he’s a model too, did she talk to you about it?”

you must’ve played it off to your mother that you and rin are fine. rin sighs, tired of the thoughts running through his head. as if soccer wasn’t tiring enough already.

“don’t know, maybe.”

just like his feelings for you, and his willingness to act on it.

two years into university and it isn’t that hard for him anymore.

actual lectures and assignments take up half of his time, and the other half is reserved for soccer. with teammates like isagi yoichi and bachira meguru annoying him even outside of practice, rin doesn’t even have much time to think of you.

until he’s forced to.

“what about you, rin? is there anyone special in your life?”

bachira tuts, “isagi, he’s always buried in books and practicing soccer, it’s obviously a no.”

rin’s annoyed, half because what bachira said is true and half because isagi made him think of you. it’s been a while since he knew what was up with you. you’re probably doing well, probably thriving in that environment, probably all in love with your boyfriend—that stupid yukimiya kenyu that you accepted for valentine’s last year.

he carefully extracts himself from isagi and bachira’s bickering, feigning that he’s looking through the aisle for books except what he’s really doing is scrolling through his phone and hunting for your profile.

what other way is he supposed to get updates? definitely not from you, because you’ve been so fucking radio silent since that night.

all that rin sees that day is a story posted to your account. just a backdrop of the view in your city with the words some things just aren’t meant to be.

you’re right. some things aren’t. including the both of you. so rin tucks his phone away in his pocket and goes about his day, half happy that it sounds like you’re not with yukimiya anymore, half concerned that this is what the both of you became.

somehow he’s here. he’s right fucking here and it’s him this time that’s going to surprise you. unintentionally. or intentionally, if you argued that he agreed to come in the first place.

“isn’t this place so beautiful?” his mother’s words are lost on him. he’s too busy thinking of you.

his mother’s here to visit your mother and by extension he guesses you’ll be there. it’s supposedly the summer break anyway.

and you really are there, on your front porch this time, freezing up when you catch sight of rin walking up your driveway.

nothing can describe his relief when you actually walk up to him and talk to him, because a part of him was expecting you to slap him for some reason.

“still watching horror movies for fun?” you ask him when you’re finally alone together, away from the ruckus of both your moms.

you missed him, he and his teal eyes and his absurdly longer fringe and his awkward demeanour. he’s a long shot from the person you knew as a kid. he’s taller, more muscles, more stoic, handsome. you were too shy to look at him properly that night in tokyo, but you can now.

“i don’t really have time for fun.” rin turns away, a little horrified you remember as much about him as you do. you’d been asking him things you remember from back when you guys were five. “how’re things here?”

you hum in contemplation, like you’re considering your words, and rin looks at you this time, admiring the way you look in the sunlight, the smile stuck onto your face, the voice that he’d never get tired of.

“it’s fine, school’s great, boyfriend’s great, everything’s… great.”

boyfriend?

“that yukimiya guy?”

fuck. fuck fuck fuck. he didn’t mean to say that. fuck. you’re gonna know he stalked you. he doesn’t even fucking follow you, he has no good excuse for knowing that.

you blink once, twice, confused and then getting bashful from the realisation. “um, yeah. things were rocky at first and then it got better so…”

rin is internally strangling himself. he needs to stop having thoughts about a taken girl. he needs to stop wondering what you taste like, what you look like in the mornings when you just wake up, what you’d sound like when you’re sleepy.

“that’s… good.”

the two of you are awkward to bits and he wishes he was someone different right now.

the day ends with nothing substantial. rin couldn’t talk much after he hears you’re still with yukimiya. you couldn’t even stay much because you had plans with him anyway. who’s he to stand in your way? rin’s just an old friend from the past. that’s all. there’s nothing more.

that’s what he thinks. until that same night when he’s all packed and ready to go for the next afternoon’s flight. all because you called him out of the blue. he’s amazed you still have his number.

“hey, rin.”

from the first moment you opened your mouth, he can tell you’re crying. shit, why are you crying?

“are you okay?” because you’re probably the only person in the world who can tug on his heartstrings like this. for being the only person in this world he has feelings for.

you’re forcing a laugh, like you’re not sure what to say. rin doesn’t really know either.

“am i not worth anything?” your question takes him off guard.

doesn’t take a genius to know something probably happened between you and yukimiya. and it doesn’t take much for you to get rin bolting out the door.

“where are you?”

“home,” you sniffle, and you must hear him getting into a cab, “i’m fine, you don’t have to come—”

“i’m coming,” he tells you, firmly, and he can almost tell you’re smiling from the other side of the line.

rin’s heart is racing, adrenaline pumping through his veins. he’s not sure why, but he’s ached to get closer to you since forever, and he passed it up the last time, the previous time you met in tokyo.

his heart’s still racing when you let him into the house, when it’s all dark and unfamiliar and you’re so close to him he can smell the shampoo off your hair.

apparently yukimiya never got over his first love, and you’d caught him locked in a kiss with her right before your dinner.

he’s not good with these situations. at comforting people, at being so close to the girl he likes that he’s trying his very best not to fucking kiss her right now. how does he tell you that you’re good enough, right now, when you keep rambling on and on about how you think you’re not? he really wants to shut you up but he can only think of kissing you and maybe that’s not a can of worms you want to open right now.

besides, if he does that, you might look at him as something temporary, a crutch you need right now but not for the long run and call him crazy but if he’s going to try this much for you, he doesn’t want to be the rebound.

but god fucking damn it, he’ll kill himself if he chickens out now.

you fall asleep after crying your guts out, and rin’s barely said ten words to you all night. he carries you to your room, puts you down on your bed and he resists placing a kiss on your forehead even if you won’t know it.

there’s no time left here for him, he’ll have to go back home tomorrow afternoon and you’ll be worlds apart once again. tonight may have been just a fluke; you probably just needed someone and rin was a safe bet.

he writes something down on a rough paper sitting on your desk and leaves it there before he goes. it’s irritating, how much you’re making him think, how much you’re making him flip flop between various moods.

one moment he decides to leave you alone and the next moment he doesn’t want to leave your side. there’s just something about seeing you so heartbroken that he can’t forgive.

and how kind the world is, to serve the guy who broke your heart to rin in a silver platter. he’d recognise that hair and those glasses anywhere—yukimiya kenyu.

“who’re you?”

rin doesn’t respond, only pushes him away. “if you know what’s good for you, leave.”

“what are you talking about?”

“i know what you did to y/n.”

yukimiya sighs, “look that’s what i wanted to talk to y/n about. i wanted to do this properly, to talk it out with her properly but then my ex was the one who—”

“shut the fuck up, i don’t care.”

yukimiya looks like he wants to retaliate, like he wants to argue back, and it would’ve probably turned into an all-out brawl if your mother didn’t rush out of the house at just the right time.

rin doesn’t bother with anything else after that. he leaves even though your mother tells him he can stay. frankly, he’s not sure he can stand being in the same room as yukimiya without giving him a punch.

the next morning comes and you haven’t left any messages. rin’s already back in japan for a while when you decide you’re finally ready to call him. but he’s heartbroken from thinking he was stupid to leave you that note so he rarely pays attention to his phone.

you end up having to leave it on his voicemail instead.

you said to call you if i wanted to try and… i do.

whatever yukimiya had come to say to you that night, it probably didn’t work, because rin does hear your voicemail. he hears your voice saying that you want to try, with him, and he thinks he may have been dreaming for a while.

but then he plays it over and over and over again.

he’s a few years late, but better late than never, he thinks.

you have two more years before you get your degree, and rin’s not about to get in between that. what he does do is pay you a visit from time to time because he hates this goddamn physical distance between the both of you.

it starts with the both of you talking to each other over the phone, the painfully awkward conversations turning more and more bearable. after a while, you’re the one getting him out of his shell, purposely teasing him all the time, getting reactions out of him.

he stays over at your apartment near school whenever he visits. you share the same bed for the first time and somehow it’s not uncomfortable. he lays beside you like he’s meant to be there. and you fall asleep so fast whenever he’s there, like he’s your damn lullaby.

distance starts to feel like nothing for the both of you, because it never wanes your feelings. even when he’s in japan and you’re halfway across the world, it doesn’t feel like you’re very far.

besides, he likes how it is—you chase your dreams, he chases his. the future can wait. the uncertainties can come later.

they come faster than he bargained for.

you’re nearing graduation while he’s nearing the end of his current contract term with a japanese club, but you’ve scored a job with one of the hottest startups in america. which means you’re going to be there.

for a long while.

“take it,” rin tells you, because you’ve called him to tell him this because you don’t know if you want to. but he can tell, like he always can when it comes to you. you want to take it, and he’s the only factor that’s stopping you. because before now, you’ve been thinking of coming back to tokyo and working at one of the bigger firms here.

looks like that plan’s not going to pan out though, because rin will kill himself before he becomes the reason that you’re not being the best version of yourself.

“but that means…”

there you go, hesitating again.

“we’ll figure it out. we did it once before, we’ll do it again.”

you chuckle in relief because somehow, itoshi rin has become your rock. he went from being some stoic and inexpressive human to being your voice of reason.

“you’re right, you’re right,” you concede. because yes, he’s always right somehow.

so you accept the offer, signing yourself away for another five years.

“what does that mean for the both of you though?”

you sigh. you’re not sure. rin hasn’t said much beyond what he did during that phone call nearly a year back, and he hasn’t come to visit for a few months now so you can’t really tell what’s going on in his head.

long distance sucks.

“i don’t know, mom,” you confess, “i don’t want this to be the end. but i can’t see a future where the both of us are always in different countries.”

your mother doesn’t say anything much after that, it’s not like she has any personal experience on the matter.

you think about it all throughout your finals period, all throughout your graduation transition. you’re not sure that you and rin can just make it through this by just winging it like how you’d always been. and you think maybe rin is just full of it, maybe he’s just as much in denial about this as you are. he hasn’t even been texting you as much nowadays, not after the news.

your phone vibrates on your table as you’re idly staring out the window. it’s a week to graduation.

a text from rin.

meet me after your ceremony next week, we need to talk.

and the anxiety kicks in.

rin shows up at your graduation ceremony like he said he would. he dresses up nicely, white dress shirt and black pants—simple, classy, handsome. you can spot him even from where you are, up near the stage.

yeah, you’d been nervous ever since he sent you that text.

it didn’t help that he didn’t talk to you much up until today, when his flight landed and he’d told you about it even though he knows you have his flight details in your handy little app.

when you run over to him after the ceremony, you find quite a funny sight before your eyes. never in your life did you think you’d ever see rin looking sharp as ever in a white shirt and pants only to be carrying what looks like a bouquet of—not flowers but—nuggets on sticks and chocolate.

rin smiles sheepishly when you get to him. “you don’t want flowers right?”

yeah, you’re in love with him. dorky, stupid rin with his abstract ways of showing love. you love how he remembers details like this since way back when you were kids. you love his awkwardness and his acts of service. you love him and everything he has and all that he doesn’t.

“thanks, i love it,” you gush, taking the bouquet from him, accepting your parents’ offer to help take a picture of the both of you.

they take a ton of pictures.

in one of them, rin kisses your temple and you think you might melt. in another, you kiss his cheeks in return and he’s a deep shade of red. those are before the last picture where he turns you to face him and presses a kiss on your lips, earning a few whistles from the people around you.

you punch him playfully on the chest for that. you hear him chuckle and that might be your favorite sound ever.

rin surprises you too, because the next thing you know, he’s dragging you along with him, running to his car parked by the curb; you’re wondering how he even had the time to rent it.

“where are we going?”

your gown is long discarded into the back seats and rin only offers you a smirk in return. he’s not telling, and you roll your eyes and let it be.

whatever it is, you’re excited.

maybe it’s the fact that you had been thinking the worst up until this point. or maybe it’s the fact that he has his hand on your bare thigh. hell, it could even just be the fact that you’re sitting in a car with the prettiest guy you’ve ever met. but your heart is beating out of your chest and for the first time, you feel like this can be nothing but good news.

rin proves you right, because he takes you somewhere unfamiliar and then tells you why exactly he’s been distant the past week. he takes your hand and leads you through the front doors of what he now calls “our house”.

everything you’ve ever told him you wanted in your dream house; wooden overheads, small koi pond out back, a beautiful rooftop garden with a wooden porch swing.

everything.

he made it real. he made your dream house without you asking. he’s telling you he’ll move here if that’s what it takes to be with you. he tells you he loves you more than he can ever imagine loving anything else at all. he says that he’ll always be with you, and this time he doesn’t want to be apart to do it.

he asks you, “will you try to make it work with me?”

as if he even needs to.

if anyone asked you back then if you thought rin was capable of any of this, you’d say no. because the boy you knew at five is passive, quiet, not the kind to make declarations like these.

yet here he is, almost twenty years later, promising to put you first and make this last because he’s sure this is what he wants.

“itoshi rin,” you slowly call his name, roping your arms around his shoulder while the both of you look at each other and only each other as you stand on the staircase landing. “what would you have done if i said no?”

because this is all extravagant—rin put his everything into this. dug up all the memories of your dream house, ran himself haggard just to get all of this done on time, and who knows what else because he kept all of this from you?

rin has a straight face, beautiful teal eyes rolling to the side as he contemplates. “guess that was never an option in my head.”

“you’re so stupid,” you tease, pressing a kiss onto his soft lips and relishing in the fact that this is just the first kiss of many to come.

because he’s now here. here with you. and he’s here to stay.

“guess that’s why i need you around to take care of me,” rin teases back, biting his lower lip and smirking at you.

you jump up and he catches you, your legs crossed behind his back as he carries you to the kitchen, setting you down on the countertop.

“so, itoshi rin,” you say again, suppressing a grin. “does that mean you’re gonna make me your wife one day?”

rin sighs and rolls his eyes, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “okay, trouble, dial back a bit now. one step at a time.”

he’s lying through his teeth, a ring passed down through his family for generations already nestled neatly in the hidden compartment of the nightstand in the bedroom. he’s lying—but you don’t need to know that. not yet.

you’re all trouble, and all beautiful and all his and rin is going to marry you someday.

because he may be dumb in a lot of ways, may be a little awkward and terrible in most situations and not the friendliest guy out there. but somehow you chose him and you always did and you always will so he’s not going to let you regret that decision.

so before you can make a comeback and expose him for really wanting to marry you, he kisses you to shut you up, and you know anyway.

because you’ve known rin since you were five, playing hide and seek in the playground. you never won because you could never find him. but you think now you have; you’ve found him and he’s not going anywhere. not anymore.

“i’m never gonna let you leave me, itoshi rin.”

he chuckles, “i’m all yours, trouble.”

[icallhimjoey]

So, have you ever thought about this: Joey agreed to casually have sex with you but finds himself not being able to be casual about it at all so he starts trying to make a connection but you’re running away from these conversations?

(Having an intense måneskin-phase, can’t get over Baby said) ✨

- @nadixm

the way this request lit something on FIRE inside of me was a little unexpected, but thank you so much for sending it in! wasnt able to stop thinking about it after receiving it, so, <3 (girlies, this is obviously going to be 18+ so proceed with caution, and minors: fuck off) Wordcount: 3.9K

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More Than This

part one - part two - part three - part four - part five

You were pretending you didn’t catch that.

But you’d seen him look.

Had felt his eyes on you.

That soft, half-lidded adoring type of shit, which was usually just this sappy post-orgasmic bliss Joe would swim in for a little bit.

Nothing more than biology. Hormones surging around the system and shit. That was all.

Joe would hook an arm somewhere and hold you in place until you gained the strength to let your combined sweat work in your favour, to let you slip free from him. Head for a shower if you were at your own flat – and hope Joe would let himself out whilst you were in there – or straight back into your clothes you’d have to pick up from the floor when you were at Joe’s.

You were in bed with him now, at his flat. You’d started by his front door about forty minutes ago – didn’t need more than a sultry look into each other’s eyes for you to be on him.

Joe hadn’t even greeted you, just stood in his own doorway and waited on the threshold for you to pop out of the lift. And then he didn’t step aside when you approached him.

Gave you no other choice but to launch yourself at him, did he?

Would only let you in if you were attached to him by the mouth and full torso, already ripping clothes from yourself or from him. Only then would he let you inside, turning the both of you around and into his flat for fear of you leaving clothing items out in the communal hallway.

It was like that with Joe.

You liked it like that with Joe.

Not much talk.

All sex.

Maybe a, “Is this new?” if you wore a top he’d never seen before, or a, “Blue, I like blue,” if he saw you’d changed your nails. Superficial shit. Things he’d see and could say something about to feign normal people chat. You never participated. Didn’t react to what he said. Would just yank the belt from his jeans which always either hurt you or hurt Joe.

And then it would get kissed better.

One time you bruised yourself because the belt whipped back at you, right in the face, and it had one of those metal pieces at the end that really fucking hurt. Joe had kissed you better for a long time then. All your escapades blended together, they had started to a short little while back, but you remembered that one time vividly because it was a real stand out. The way you’d gone from shooting pain in the face, pain that left your cheekbone legit bruised in blues and purples surrounding a bright yellow swollen bit of skin, to the pleasure of being cared for and being cared for was different.

Good different.

If you were feeling particularly needy, you’d refer to it still. Would ask Joe to kiss a random part of you better. You’d just point somewhere and go, “Am I red here? Skin’s not broken, is it?” because asking if something was bruised felt too on the nose.

Like Joe didn’t know what you were doing.

Not that it mattered.

Joe would kiss you anywhere for however long you wanted. And if he’d move away, and your throat made a desperate little noise, he’d just be back on you.

Anyway.

It was never anything too adventurous with Joe, but it was always good. It was good that you knew what to expect. Meant you weren’t scared of suggestions that would make you go, ugh, okay, this was fun whilst it lasted, but big nope.

Like, feet shit. Listen, no offence, but if Joe was going to suggest for you to step onto some pudding barefoot, this would be over real fast.

But it had never been like that.

Would never be like that.

You knew who to text for predictable sex that always happened on a soft surface. Where the rough person in the room was you, and you were by no means hard-handed. You’d maybe take Joe’s jaw into your hands a little rough every once in a while, because it’d make his pink lips look even more plush. Would occasionally leave teeth marks near his collar bone or around his thumb. But, that was about the extent of it.  

Joe knew his lane. Could still surprise you within that lane from time to time, but you liked that Joe would never pretend to accidentally leave a ball gag out. No, oops how did that get here? sort of dumb shit.

No.

You’d lay eyes on each other and then get to a bed or a sofa as quickly as you could. Limbs tangled. Always kissing. Sharing breaths.

Joe loved kissing. Used it as foreplay but could do it for long without letting it go further until you’d grow restless, which always made Joe grin into the press of his lips against yours. Those were things you’d come to classify as one of the softer moments.

You didn’t mind a bit of emotion.

But kissing you until you were absolutely hungry for more, and then smiling where you could feel it? Almost too soft of a moment.

Those moments were tricky and were best kept to a minimum.  

The looking at you after was one of those softer moments too. You were on your back and catching your breath as you stared up at the ceiling, and Joe was just sort of... staring at you. Slowly studying your face from the side, letting his eyes dance over your profile like he’d never seen it before.

Joe looked and looked and looked until you turned your head and he quickly looked away. Pretended he hadn’t been looking. Like peripheral vision wasn’t a thing.

“I don’t like it when you do that,”

Blunt.

But it was sort of nice to just say what you were thinking without being afraid of hurting feelings.

There were no feelings.

Nothing to hurt around here.

“What?”

Joe turned his head back and looked again. Less deep this time though. Not so hormonal.

“Look at you? After what we’ve just done I can’t look at you?”

He knew you’d seen. Was about to say he shouldn’t be blamed because it was sort of your fault. Had you seen yourself? Did you know what you looked like to others? To men? To him, after what you’d just done to each other and with each other?

He didn’t think you knew. Well, maybe you knew, but you’d never understand.

“No, you can look,” you lied, because you really did not like it. Made you feel all sorts of uncomfortable.

“But the looking away when I catch you does my head in. Look at me like you mean it or keep your eyes closed.”

It earned a huff of laughter from Joe who now rolled over onto his side to watch without restriction. No hiding what he was doing. You could only bear a couple of seconds of it before you sat up, stomach muscles working hard at pulling you upright, earning a groan that escaped your constricted throat.

“No, come on,” Joe’s hand was quick, moved from his side to grab at one of your arms. “I won’t look, all right?” he tried, like that would change everything and make you lay back down again.

You’d already scooped your bra up from the floor.

“I’ve got an early day tomorrow,” you said over your shoulder as you sorted the straps before covering your chest back up.

Joe let himself fall back as he let an annoyed sound escape him when you reached for your underwear next. If it had been any more guttural, you’d maybe have taken it seriously.

“You’ve always got an early day tomorrow,” he complained.

“Yea, well, some of us have office hours they need to abide by, can’t just go gallivant whenever we’d like, have to request time off and– it’s a whole ordeal,” you spoke like your life was burdened by the structure of a steady job and a permanent contract.

It wasn’t.

But, you know. You couldn’t go out and stay out late on random Tuesdays like Joe could.

Not that you wanted to go out with Joe on random Tuesdays.

You wanted Joe in between some sheets for an hour on random Tuesdays. And, any other time when you were up for it, really. When you wanted soft touches and face-to-face sex where Joe forced eye-contact.

No.

Joe never forced anything.

But Joe would go, “hey,” real soft, would repeat it until you actually heard it, and it would make you look at him. Then he’d hold your gaze. Was very intense sometimes, especially if you were close and he held eye-contact right as he fucked you through it.

If that was one of the softer moments was still up for debate. Maybe occasionally it was. Kind of depended on your mood, though.

“You got any plans for the weekend then?” Joe’d given up on trying to keep you there for now, and instead focussed on when the next time would be.

You shrugged. “Not really.”

Your sister’s boyfriend had a birthday barbecue that you’d attend, and you needed to find a good cobbler to fix a shoe you’d broken in a mad dash for a tube replacement bus the other day but – no real plans. You vaguely recalled other plans for the Friday night, but nothing was set in stone. There was still plenty of time for a little limb-tangling with Joe.

“Are you around?” you asked, pulling your top over your head, and standing up before turning to see Joe working his arms as he tried to place the covers back in the correct position from where he laid.

“Should be,”

“All right,” you nodded and found your jeans.

“All right,” Joe copied your tone of voice and the nod. You frowned at how corny that was.

“I’m stealing a drink from your fridge,” you said, stepping into said jeans and already making your way out of the bedroom.

“Squash is on the side,” Joe lazily gestured, having learnt by now you never just drank a bottle of water normally like a sane person. Then quickly and more pressingly Joe followed up with, “And I don’t want to find mouthfuls of my leftovers missing!”

You grinned to yourself out of his sight.

You were absolutely going to stick a fork into whatever tubs he had in there. You deserved it after swallowing Joe the way you had moments ago, and he knew it too.

“Focus on the important things, Joe,” you called back from the kitchen, going for a fork. “Like condoms. You’ve barely got any left.”

Fork in hand, you went for the fridge. Found a bottle of water in the door that you were going to put some squash into in a second.

And then, when your eyes looked towards the shelves, your breath hitched in your throat.

This idiot.

What an... all right. Nope. You weren’t going to do this. This wasn’t who you and Joe were and you weren’t going to play along with this.

You see, Joe was a Tupperware man – would always cook too much and then dump whatever he had left over into Tupperware that would fill up his fridge until he could go a full week just eating what he’d already cooked up days ago. It was a side effect of living alone and not knowing fucking portion sizes. Especially for pasta.

Almost every leftover Joe ever had in his fridge was pasta.

Made sense.

You also couldn’t measure spaghetti for the life of you.

What annoyed you about it most was how Joe seemed sort of messy, like any guy was messy, but the inside of his fridge was organised to the point where you thought he had health inspection checking up on him. It was all dated with sharpies – the leftovers. Like he was a professional chef that couldn’t get away with opening something up and just giving it a good whiff to decide whether that was still okay to eat or not.

Annoying.

But, what really got you, is that amongst the four or five tubs of dinner sat one smaller one. One with a little post-it note stuck to it with your name on.

This idiot made his fridge look like the one at your office.

One with Tupperware that had a name stuck to it.

A little preportioned bit of leftovers just for you inside Joe’s fridge, so you wouldn’t have to go digging into any of the other containers.

You took the note, looked at it up close and then flung it onto the counter. You ignored it. Went for a larger tub and opened that, ever the rebel. Let your fork run through it, messed it all up real nice and then took a big bite, grimacing at how cold it was.

Was still good though. Nice.

You closed the tub. Opened another.

Did the same thing – grimaced more because cold but also, it was really annoying how fucking good it still was. Joe either followed killer mommy food blogs, or just... knew shit about cooking. Was a whole ass natural in the kitchen when it came to herbs and spices and things.

Whatever.

You placed the tub back and purposefully left the lid off. Left that on the counter. Smirked at yourself when you closed the fridge and caught a last glance of your fork still inside there.

“Hey,” Joe stepped into his living room, in boxers and a T-shirt now.

You quickly swallowed and got busy with the squash.

“I’ve got um, I’m seeing my friend, he’s got a gig on Friday, it’s at a small venue near Brick Lane,” Joe talked in a casual tone of voice, made his way over to the fridge and opened it to remove the fork.

You feigned innocence. Ignored the whole thing as Joe reached around you to grab the lid you’d left out.

“Sounds cool,” you said, taking a sip to check you liked how sweet you’d made your drink. “Have fun.”

You knew he meant, come with me.

You knew this was his casual way of suggesting you could also maybe hang out together outside of the activities at your flat and his.

But he wasn’t using the actual words, so it was stupidly easy to pretend you had no idea what Joe was trying to do.

“Yea,” Joe spoke around a deep inhale, placing the lid back onto the Tupperware and then gave you a polite tight-lipped smile as he closed the fridge again. “Thanks.”

The way you wanted to squish Joe’s face to wipe that stupid smile off before messing that whole fridge up made your fingers itch a little.

When Joe moved to place the fork into the dishwasher, you decided that was your cue to leave. Man was cleaning up after you and couldn’t even leave the fork in the sink for a second like a normal person.

“Maybe see you after?”

It was a careful question, but one he knew he probably would get a yes to.

“Yea, maybe,” you said nonchalantly, slinging arms into your jacket. “Text me.”

You expertly left everything up in the air. You might have the time for him on Friday, you might not. You weren’t going to go see an amateur band with him though, that was for sure. That wasn’t what this was.

You’d been clear with each other from the start.

Hadn’t used the actual words, but, you were both adults and it was understood that this was what it was going to be. It was never anything else than what it had been tonight and good.

That was good.

You’d met Joe at a party you were only at because it was in your building and your neighbour had invited the whole flat just so no one would complain about the noise. A nice gesture, but never meant as an actual invitation. But it was the flat above yours, and you’d tried to go to sleep, but there were people out on the balcony and they had music going, so there was dancing and feet stomping and – it was all just, loud. You’d thought, all right fuck it, I could go for a few drinks, plan being you’d fall asleep much faster with a bit of drink in the system.

Joe was there.

You’d rocked up in an oversized T-shirt, bicycle shorts and socks in slides. Hair messy with the evidence of the stirring you’d done in your bed.

Joe’d taken one look and knew exactly what was going on. He guessed, but, he’d been right. He was looking at someone from inside the building. There just because they’d technically received an invitation, even if it was only so that they wouldn’t complain about the noise.

“Drink?”

“Yes please,”

For the first fifteen minutes of the two of you talking, you thought Joe was your neighbour. He was the one who’d let you in and who’d walked you into the kitchen.

Yet he wasn’t the neighbour.

Joe sort of knew someone who knew someone who knew your neighbour, vaguely. The person who lived in the flat above you was also a girl, something you weren’t aware of. Her name was Charlie, so you couldn’t really blame yourself for assuming the invitation had come from a guy.

Joe also gave you a drink that was so fucking gross, you immediately went, “What the fuck is this? Petrol?” and he’d gone, “You don’t like it?” before saying he’d try again, do a better job for your next one. You immediately felt bad, seeing as he’d mixed the drink, and had thrown the whole glass back to prove that the drink was fine.

Getting it down was a big task though, and your whole face contorted as you worked at swallowing every single last drop down. Made you shiver and made Joe laugh as he said, “No, no, no, don’t drink it if you don’t like it,” but it was all in your mouth already and fuck, that tasted like it was just pure vodka.

Which you then learned is exactly what that was.

“Dry martini with a twist,”

“What’s the twist? That’s it’s just a big glass of vodka?”

“I mean... yes, it’s exactly that, with a twist.” Joe said dryly and tapped the piece of lemon rind in his own glass. “Bit of lemon.”.

You had nearly burst into laughter. Nearly, because this man was a stranger, and you did come over to get a slight buzz going, so that just happened to work out exactly how you planned it.

“Are there any... I don’t know, regular beers? No twists?” and you’d craned your neck to see behind Joe, to look into the kitchen, which, you knew where the kitchen was because the floorplan was obviously the same to your flat.

Joe’d taken you over to the fridge.

Gave you a no twist beer.

And then later, you’d taken Joe over to your bedroom.

Had no twist sex.

It was so obvious you were looking for the weakest excuse to get Joe over to your place. You were both sort of scraping the barrel, didn’t want to just say it, because you had more dignity than that.

So you’d thrown out your fishing rod and hoped Joe would bite when you looked into the living room of your upstairs neighbour and said, “I like where she placed her sofa, that wouldn’t work in my flat,”

Joe bit immediately.

“Nah, ‘course it would, let’s go try.”

You’d not even gotten close to your sofa that night. Straight from the front door into your bedroom and then straight back towards the front door a short 60 minutes later.

And then it had been like that.

You’d text to check availability and then would either go, “omw” or “come here” and neither of you were ever too proud to pretend you didn’t want it. It was either a, “can’t im busy” or “ive got some time” and it worked fine like that.

It helped neither of you had flatmates you needed to explain shit too.

Except, if you had, you would’ve figured out Joe was somebody a lot sooner.

Oh well.

Joe was nobody in his flat, and even less of a somebody over in yours. You kept him in your phone as first name Joe last name No Twist and refused to change it to Quinn. He wasn’t any better than all the other guys whose last names were all Hinge, or the closest tube station to where they lived.

“Here,” Joe said, just before you were about to leave. You looked back and saw he was holding out the little container of leftovers.

You frowned at it.

“Take it, but heat it up in a pan with a little olive oil, don’t eat it when it’s still cold and stiff from the fridge,”

You kept frowning but held a hand out to take it from him anyway. This felt a bit like refusing to take a tenner from you grandmother because you didn’t need a tenner, but, it was still a tenner, you know?

“I’ll probably hate it,” you lied, stuffing the Tupperware into your bag.

“And you can tell me all about it on Friday,”

Stupid little smirk.

Okay, so sure, you were going to see Joe on Friday after this gig he had to go to. And you’d tell him about how much you hated his leftovers.

Also, if Joe was thinking he was going to get this little container back, he was wrong.

That was yours now.

With squash in hand, you said goodbye and made your way out by yourself. Didn’t need or want Joe to walk you out – Joe knew. Understood. Stayed in his kitchen, but did call, “Text me when you get home,” after you because he wouldn’t be able to sleep if he didn’t know you’d gotten home safe.

“Yea, yea,” you dismissed him, loudly said, “Condoms!” to remind him and gave yourself a quick once over in the mirror by the door before you left. Closed the door behind you a little more rested and satisfied than you had been when you’d walked through it a little while earlier.

Whilst making your way out of the building, you whipped your phone out and found the right text thread.

“can’t do friday, something came up, soz”

And then went over to your calendar where you removed “james hinge” and replaced it with “joe no twist”

James could wait.

James never made you pasta.

Joe did.

Joe would make sure you orgasmed – like, he’d keep going until he could feel the evidence of it himself, would make sure the question “did you come” was unnecessary, and would make sure there was squash on the side and now, Joe had made you pasta.

Yea, you were going to see Joe again on Friday.

You made the mental note to keep his staring to a minimum though. Would have to make him come and then immediately force him out of bed to clean the sheets, or whatever.

Less of the soft shit.

You were going to tell him his pasta was fucking disgusting.

Telling Joe you loved the food he made before climbing on top of him was too soft of a moment. Those moments were tricky. Best kept to a minimum.  

---

The Taglisted

@05secondsofsexgods, @a-time-for-wolvess, @adoreyouusugar, @alana4610, @ali-in-w0nderland, @alwayslindie, @babybluebex, @barfightzanddiscolightz, @bettyfrommars, @cancankiki, @capricornrisingsstuff, @chaoticgood-munson, @choke-me-eddie, @did-it-work, @dirtyeddietini, @dylanmunson, @eddie-joe-munson, @eddies-puppet, @electricmunson, @emma77645, @emmamooney, @everythinghasafacee, @figmentofquinn, @frogers, @frootvelvet, @ghost-proofbaby, @ghostinthebackofyourhead, @harringtonfan4, @haylaansmi, @jasminearondottir, @joesquinns, @kellyxo1, @kennedy-brooke, @lovelyblueness, @luvrsbian, @miserybeans, @nadixq, @ohmeg, @paola-carter, @pepperstories, @phyllosilicate-s, @roosterisdaddy36, @sherrylyn628, @sidthedollface2, @thebellenouvelle, @thefemininemystiquee, @thewondernanazombie, @tlclick73, @werepartnersnow

(taglist currently full, sorry)

[jaeyunverse]

cat boy

pairing: yang jungwon x fem!reader

wc: 1882

genres: some fluff, mostly crack, enemies to lovers, neighbours au

warnings: profanity

summary: yang jungwon is pissed his cat likes you more than him. or, in which jungwon’s cat plays cupid and sets you up.

note: this is extremely unserious!!!! i only wrote it for funsies but i enjoyed the process a lot :) i hope the fic manages to bring a smile on your face hehe

masterlist

There was an angry-looking Yang Jungwon standing at your door.

You didn’t know why he was so pissed. You just knew you didn’t care.

“Your incessant knocking woke me up,” you replied dryly and leaned against the door frame, arms crossing over your chest. “You better have a good reason for ruining my sleep.”

“It’s five in the evening.”

“What’s your point?”

Jungwon’s jaw clenched, and the corner of your lip curled up a smirk. Provoking him was always so satisfying. Always so easy and entertaining.

It was crazy how he was the sweetest person with everyone else but the moment you opened your mouth, he glared at you and looked like he was plotting your death. The discrimination and harsh treatment you’d received from the boy upon moving into your apartment had hurt at first, but you’d soon learnt to take it with a grain of salt.

You’d learnt that it was way more fun to push his buttons and see just how far you needed to take things for him to reach his breaking point.

“Just shut the fuck up and listen to me,” Jungwon snapped, pointing an accusing finger at you. “I need you to stop playing with my cat. Do not touch her. Do not call her name. Do not do the weird fucking meowing thing you do where she meows back at you and you have those god awful meowing conversations. Do not—”

“Oh, yeah,” you interrupted and pretended to deeply think about something. “I think it was just yesterday that Cleo told me you were popping a vein over her liking me more than you. I must say, Yang, you have reached a level of pathetic I didn’t even know existed. Yelling at your neighbour because you don’t get validation from your cat? Tsk.”

Embarrassment and anger coloured the entirety of Jungwon’s face a deep red. “You don’t get it!” he exclaimed. “Cleo keeps clawing at the front door! She doesn’t even want to stay with me anymore. She stares at me with so much resentment because I don’t let her play with you all the time!”

“I’m confused,” you said, your eyebrows furrowing. “Why don’t you let her play with me if that’s why she hates you? Your problem has a very simple solution—”

“But she’s my cat!” he said, running a hand through his hair in frustration. He stepped closer to you, desperation evident on his features. “I don’t care if she plays with you, but the more she does, the more she realises that she’d rather have you take care of her.”

“Well,” you sputtered, a little taken aback by how much his cat’s preferences had distraught him. “If it’s any consolation to you, I don’t have the time or resources to look after Cleo, so she has no choice but to stay with you.”

“I don’t know how to make her love me again,” Jungwon mumbled to himself, not having heard you at all. “I know cats aren’t very loyal, but I didn’t think Cleo would dump me after everything we’ve gone through. I pay the landlord more money so she can keep staying with me without having to hide from anyone. I fought—”

“Yang!” you yelled and grabbed his shoulders. He snapped out of his reverie and looked at you in despair. You’d never thought you would feel bad for him, but you found yourself offering, “Do you want me to show you how I play with her? I don’t know why she prefers me over you, but maybe I’m doing something you aren’t. Maybe you’ll know what it is if we play with her together.”

Jungwon nodded eagerly. “Yeah, let’s go.”

“Now?” you asked incredulously. “I have to meet a friend for dinner.”

“Please,” he begged, and you didn’t think you’d ever heard him sound so hopeless before. “Just for ten minutes.”

You hesitated a bit for a moment, but then reluctantly agreed. “Ten minutes.”

Jungwon watched in awe as you interacted with Cleo. He couldn’t remember the last time he saw his ginger Ragamuffin so excited.

“Hey, Cleo,” you cooed, cupping her face in your hands. “How are you doing? How’s the most precious girl in the world doing?”

Cleo purred and leaned into your touch. Smiling, you caressed her cheeks and kissed her nose.

Gathering her in your arms, you stood up. The cat rested her head on your shoulder and closed her eyes.

“I really don’t see Cleo hating anyone,” you said to Jungwon, a small frown settling on your features. “I mean, look at her.”

He sighed and padded towards you, stopping only when he was right beside. His arm brushed against yours. “I don’t get it either.”

And then, as if to prove to you that he wasn’t lying about his cat having something against him, Jungwon lightly petted her.

Cleo’s eyes snapped open and her nails popped out. She pawed at him and he withdrew his hand immediately.

“Oh.”

“I don’t understand why she’s acting this way,” he lamented. “She was good to me until you came along!”

You scoffed in disbelief. “Are you seriously saying this is my fault? Did you even consider the possibility of you being a horrible owner?”

“You did not just say that!” Jungwon looked extremely offended, but you didn’t give a shit. You couldn’t believe he was blaming you for his problems.

“I don’t even need to say anything,” you sneered. “Cleo running away from you to me speaks volumes.”

You saw your neighbour’s jaw clench. His hands curled into fists at his side, and you wondered if you’d gone too far. You know he loved his cat; insinuating that he wasn’t taking good care of her probably hurt.

Besides, you knew it wasn’t true. Jungwon was a huge animal enthusiast. He’d looked after a turtle when he was five and had decided then and there that a career surrounded by animals was what he wanted. He was studying to be a veterinary doctor now.

Before you could open your mouth to apologise, he muttered, “I should have known this was a bad idea.”

Your blood boiled once again. “You really do have a knack for being the most ungrateful asshole anyone could ever come across, Yang.”

In your arms, Cleo meowed and lifted her head from your shoulder, staring daggers at her owner.

“Ungrateful?” Jungwon snorted in disbelief, not noticing the glares the Ragamuffin was sending his way. “You haven’t done anything since you came here! I don’t have shit to be grateful for.”

Cleo growled, and the boy finally acknowledged her anger.

You pointed a finger at Jungwon and fumed, “I take back what I said before. I do see Cleo hating you. You’re a little bitch who—”

“Oh, spare me.” He cut you off with a roll of his eyes, but you paid him no heed and continued,

“Maybe she’d like you better if you liked me better!”

The cat meowed again. The message was very clear. She agreed.

“I do like you...” Jungwon said defensively, but it was a pathetic attempt that convinced no one. Especially not Cleo.

“Yeah, sure.” You let out a humourless laugh. “You’ve obviously been a jerk to me from the very start because you think you’re the unapproachable, dark-haired, broody lead and I’m the sunshine who is supposed to make you open up.”

He gave you a sour look. “You’re not the sunshine.”

“And you’re not the main character you think you are. I’m not going to put up with your attitude anymore. Just stop being a dick and tell me what you have against me.”

Jungwon hesitated for a moment. You watched as he contemplated whether or not to tell you the real reason behind his grudge, and with each passing second, you slowly started to get a good idea of why.

You knew it was going to be something stupid.

He proved you right.

“I was trying to rent the apartment you’re living in. It has a better view and is way bigger. I live with a cat and you live alone—I thought it was unfair that the landlord chose someone who doesn’t even need the space.”

You were speechless for a while. You took your sweet time to wrap your head around the fact that Yang Jungwon was one petty son of a bitch.

“That’s it?” you finally asked. “You hate me because I snagged the apartment you wanted fair and square?”

He didn’t confirm. He didn’t need to.

You exclaimed, “Grow the hell up, Yang! So what if I got it? It’s been six months; move on!”

“You don’t need it as much as I do!” he protested.

“You don’t know that!” you said angrily. “You don’t know me! You never tried to.”

Jungwon opened his mouth to retort, but he didn’t really know what to say. He knew he was the one at fault. Maybe he should have apologised.

Too bad his stubbornness wouldn’t let him go down without a fight.

“It’s not like you ever tried to get to know me either,” Jungwon muttered.

“I brought you home-baked cookies the day I moved in. You said you didn’t want them and shut the door in my face. I invited you to my house-warming party too, but neither did you reply to my email nor show up. You really think I didn’t try to get to know you? To be friends with you?”

Your voice was laced with bitterness, but there were traces of genuine sorrow in it as well. The fire in your eyes from your bickering had winked out and you looked tired.

The boy found his resolve crumbling. Shame and guilt began to build claw at him from the inside. Maybe he had been unnecessarily harsh.

“I—uh..” Jungwon tried, “I’m sorry.”

You raised your eyebrows. “For being so rude to you, I mean, ” he added hastily. “You didn’t deserve it.”

The apology could have been way better but you weren’t going to complain. “Okay.”

Setting Cleo on the floor again, you moved towards the front door of his apartment. “I’ll get going.”

However, before you could turn the knob, Jungwon blurted, “Are—are you free now? Maybe we can hang out and get to know each other?”

“Oh.” You were dumbfounded. Out of all the things you expected him to say, this was not it. “I have to meet a friend tonight. I told you.”

Embarrassment tinted his ears a deep red. “Right,” he squeaked after clearing his throat. “Forget I asked.”

“Well—” you started after a beat of awkward silence— “I won’t be out for that long. Do you wanna come over to watch a movie later?”

“I have to get up early tomorrow.”

You decided that this was clearly not working out—but it wasn’t that bad. So what if Jungwon and you couldn’t hang out? You were on good terms now. That was an immense improvement in your relationship already.

Your neighbour, however, didn’t seem to be in the mood to cut his losses and move on. He tried again, “The weekend?”

You paused. Racked your brain to make sure you didn’t have any other commitments. “The weekend.”

“It’s a date.”

Strangely, you didn’t correct Jungwon. He didn’t take his words back either.

Cleo’s tail swayed in silent approval.

[fantasyandshit]

Something is wrong

type: Oneshot

Pairing:Azriel x reader

Masterlist

"where are you going?"

"Oh, Az!" Yn turns as her wings unfurl- "Im headed to Windhaven to check on things up there for Rhys- When did you get back? I thought you were still in Day?" "I-I returned last night. I'm sorry, you said your going to WindHaven?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Because Rhysand asked me to? What's the issue with that?"

The shadowsinger notes the females face contorting into one of confusion, "Well it's just- Myself, Cassian, or Rhys are the ones that usually go up?"

Now the confusion morphs to anger and annoyance as she speaks, "Oh? Am I not capable shadowsinger?"

"No No! It's just that they are dangerous as they are- and well, your a female far more powerful than any of them-who knows what they may try to do to you?" The words fly out of Azriels mouth in a blur.

"Your right, i am more powerful than them-If I must I will fight them-inf act I'll do it in front of the whole of the camp as a lesson." the Illyrian females eight, bright green, siphons flare like green flames licking within the small gem shapes.

"Just-just be careful ok?" Azriel knew he couldn't fight the female-couldn't convince her to stay, and he knew she was very capable, powerful, but deep down he couldn't' help the gut feeling that something was going to go wrong- that she would be hurt.

"Always shadowsinger." She smirked as she dropped backwards off the balcony railing, falling for a moment before her wings flared open and she soared for the mountains- always with the dramatic exit.

-----

As I make my way through the frigid night to the cabin I am staying in I hear footsteps- ten separate sets of them trailing through the snow-following me. I whirl around only to be caught off guard by a punch to the face, I stagger back- quickly kicking my attacker in his kidney. The male lets out a groan, kneeling to the floor before before i kick him again, this time in the face. As I use my power, effectively killing the brute; another male comes up from behind, pulling my head and exposing my neck, just before I'm able to fling him off I feel a needle in the side of my neck. Shit.

I feel my body start to go numb, my knees giving out as the male behind me catches me. I barely get another glimpse before my eyes are rolling back as I go limp in his arms.

-----

"I'm telling you Rhys- its been five days, you said she'd be back in three. There has been no warning of a longer stay and no-"

"Azriel! Stop it! Yn is capable- you know that better than anyone, she will be fine!" A sigh, "If she doesn't come back within two days-we will go after her. ok?"

Knowing he wouldn't win this, Azriel bows his head before stalking out.

-----

The next day the doors to Rhysand's office were thrown open, the Shadowsinger storming in. He knew something was off with yn and he was not going to sit around any longer. He just, he just knew she wasn't ok and the fact no one seemed to care made him blind with rage. He didn't understand this feeling, he'd never been nearly this mad at his family before but he couldn't shake the fire burning underneath his skin.

"Im leaving and you're either coming with me or staying out of my way." Azriel didn't need ti explain, everyone in the room knew what he was talking about- well more like seething like a wild animal, his hair tousled as he glared ahead.

The high lord lets out an exasperated sight, "Az- we talked about this, if sh-"

"No! No! What of it were Mor? What if it where Feyre, or Nesta?"

"That's different-"

"No its fucking. Not. Now are you coming with me or no?"

As he turns to leave the room, Cassian moves to him,p placing a hand on his shoulder as he tries to reason, "Maybe-"

"Let. Me. Go."

"Az-"

"Let him go Cass."

The Illyrian let's his brother go sighing as he does so.

-----

Azriels shadows are in a frenzy as he lands in the camp- hurt- experiments-torture-ten-hurt-help-help!- Help her! Now! Faster!

The male sprints, running faster than he ever has as his shadowsa lead him deep into the woods where one lone cabin stands.

'basement- ten males-she's hurt-save her'

As the door is pushed open a man jumps for Azriel, he waist no time, sending his shadows down the mans eyes and strangles him as he slumps to the floor, the next males ends with a dagger in his head, the one after with a slit throat, choking and spluttering on his own blood, the fifth with shadows circling his body, pooling into the open whiles they find. The next is thrown from the house with Azriel's power, the next just obliterated, the eighth and ninth are thrown into each other, going on conscious before being stabbed in the throat. The final tenth one stands at the top of the stairs, thrown down and ending with a sickening crunch.

Azriel stomps down the stairs, being met with a sight that nearly makes him throw up as he rushes to the female. Yn lays naked and strapped to a cold metal table, her body covered in blood, vomit, piss, and puss that oozes from concerning wounds, her body is also littered in bruises, slices, and what look to be needle injection sights. And her wings, gods her wings were shredded, hooks tethering them to the ground. As he moves to her he notices a journal lying open...

they were using her as a fucking experiment- they had pushed who know what into her body, torturing her slowly.

"Az?" Her usual strong, sassy voice replaced with a weak whimper.

"Hey, hey I'm here." He brushes her hair behind her ear softly, his face softening immediately as he stares at her. she looks tired, so tired.

"You came for me?"

"Yes, I always will. Ok sweet girl, I need to release your wings ok? It's going to hurt."

She says nothing as she stares forward, Azriel grabbing the first hook and ripping it out- a small cry leaves her lips but she's out of energy, screaming far to much these past few days. Azriel moves to the next wing, pulling the second hook out, her wings drooping as he moves to unbind her. He slowly pulls her up and into his arms, cringing at the whimpers and squeaks she releases. "Oh sweetheart. I am so so sorry."

Azriel knows he can't transport her in this condition so he quickly calls for Rhys.

'Rhysand!' his panicked voice rings down to the other males mind

'Azriel? What is it?'

'It's Yn, bring Madja-quick.'

'I'm on my way now.'

"Az?"

"Yes?"

"Come here."

The shadowsinger leans his head down- surprised as Yn surges forward ever so slightly, pressing their lips together, molding them to each other like they were made for each other. Before any more can happen, Feyre, Rhysand, Cassian, and Madja appear in the room.

-----

Azriel watches as Yn's chest rises and falls slowly. She'd been out nearly three days now and Azriel couldn't leave her side, nor could he stand to look his family in the eye. They were part of the reason they were in this position right now, why Yn still lay on her bed, deep in sleep.

-----

The next morning Azriel is woken up by a soft voice. "Az?"

"Yn. hey, your awake." The male rushes to her side as he helps her sit up slowly. As the two make eye contact Azriel feels it, and judging by the gasp she lets out, Yn does too."

"Mate?" They speak at the same time. Smiling like two kids in a candy shop as they simply look into each others eyes for a moment. Unable to help himself, Azriel leans in, kissing he mate softly.

-------

Sooooo, hey guys! I felt like writing a feral Az but also wanted some sweetness sooooo here you go. Some of this did get inspired by the lovely work of @afandomangel but it was original work of mine, I've wanted to write feral Az for a while now. I want to leave this saying- Guys PLEASE send in requests, part of the reason I haven't been posting as much is because I a having serious writers block and my inbox has been open-and empty- for...well since In opened it and I needdddddd you guys to send in requests, I write everything and I write for a lotttttttt of fandoms, not just acotar so please please send in requests. Anywt\ay love you guys and I hope you enjoyed

[jihyoruri]

— LIP GLOSS: HUH YUNJN

warnings: soccer player yunjin x mean girl/rich girl reader, swearing, this is placed in the early 2000s

sun beamed on yunjin as she walked on the field towards her coach wiping her sweat with her shirt, she breathes heavily as she reaches her coach and the team manager.

“you need to get yujin in shape.” he says to her handing his clipboard to the girl beside him. “just because she was on vacation doesn’t mean she get’s to slack off and you’re the captain, meaning you need to keep her in check.”

“of course coach.” she nods in agreement putting her hand on her forehead to block the sun out of her eyes. “I’ve talked to her and she still hasn’t gotten it together.”

“well she better get it together now or she’s on the bench Friday’s game.” he said sternly, he opens his mouth to say something but gets cut off by his phone ringing.

“i need to take this” he says getting ready to answer his phone. “you’re in charge.” he points towards yunjin before walking off.

yunjin let’s put a deep sigh before turning to the girl in front of her. “how do we look.” she said referring to the girl’s practice.

“you guys look good.” the girl says, maya is her name she’s been captain since yunjin started her first year. “especially you miss captain.” she says teasingly.

“oh.” yunjin laughs awkwardly at maya. “um thanks.”

maya is about to say something but gets cut of by a yell.

“OH MY GOSH.”

both yunjin snap their heads towards the other half of the field to see cheer team practicing, it was a joint practice today.

her eyes trail towards you, the captain of the cheer team, you have a look a disgust and annoyance on your face but that’s nothing new.

“get it together minjeong.” you to the girl that was now on the floor. “how do you think we’re gonna look on Friday if you keep stumbling like that ?”

you snatching the pompoms out of her hands. “it would be an embarrassment.”

“you’d ruin our reputation.” you say while fixing the bow in your ponytail. “and then you’d be off the team.” you smile sarcastically. “do you want to be off the team ?”

the girl shakes her head frantically and your mean expression turns into a sweet looking one, “that’s what I thought, now go fix your hair it looks messy, five minute break everyone!”

yunjin watches you as you walk towards the co-captain/your best friend wonyoung, you wipe what seems to be smudged lip gloss form the taller girls lips before whispering in ear, your eyes on minjeong, wonyoung laughs before whispering something back to you.

“she’s such a bitch right ?” maya says to yunjin.

yunjin pulls her eyes away from you looking at the girl before her. “um, I don’t know, I mean she sure knows how to be a captain, maybe I gotta be more like her.”

maya laughs like she said the most funniest thing in the world. “you’re a perfect captain.” she says a hint of flirtation in her voice.

“uh-”

“-sorry about that.” her coach saves the day. “my son was calling I gotta pick him up from his friends house, practice is off early.”

a smile spreads onto yunjin’s face before she runs towards the other girls on the field to tell the them to start cleaning up.

yujin walks out the the school doors fixing the bag over shoulder, she comes to a stop when she sees a familiar pink toyota 86 coupe, with you leaning on and a pink bedazzled flip phone on your hand.

she sighs and walks towards you. “and you know I’ve been watching her and the way she’s been slacking, but today was like my last straw like I was so done, but like the nice person I am I left her off with a warning, but she was like bitch for like the rest of a practice acting like I didn’t have you shaking in your tacky boots a second ago-” you pause when you see the taller girl in front of you. “I gotta go mom I’ll be home for dinner.”

you look up at her scrunching your face. “ew you’re all sweaty.” you turn opening your car and shutting the door.

you start the car and roll down your window. “are you getting in or not I don’t have all day, I was supposed to go shopping today, you know?”

yunjin rolls her eye but walks towards the passenger’s side and gets in.

“check the back.” you say to her your eyes on the mirror in front of you as you reapply your lip gloss.

she furrows her eyebrows at you before look at the pink back seats, only to see your hello kitty plushies.

“um-”

you roll your eyes turning towards her “the floor.” you say before turning back towards the mirror.

“oh.” she looks at the floor of the backseats to see a bright pink gift bag on the floor and picks it up and puts it on her lap.

“for me ?” you let out a annoyed sigh while closing your lip gloss. “who else would it be for ? and you call me the bimbo.”

“you are though” yunjin responds, before opening the gif bag, the first thing she picks up is a hello kitty plushie but it wasn’t just any plushie it was hello kitty dressed up in a soccer jersey with yunjin’s jersey number on it.

she looks at you a smile spreading across her face, “this is so cute oh my gosh.” “consider this as a pre game gift.” you say to her, blush rushes to her cheeks. “I can’t believe you got this for me, this has to be custom made.”

“it is.” you say with a smile on your face. “there’s something else in there.” you say pointing to the bag.

yunjin looks in the bag to a see a small box with the lettering dior across it, she picks it up and opens it to see a dior a rose gold bracelet, identical to the necklace that you wear everyday day.

“oh my gosh yn.” she looks at you her smile getting bigger if that’s possible. “you did not.”

“oh, but I did.” you say looking back at the mirror.

you gasp in surprise when you get pulled away from your reflection, you feel yunjin pulling you over the console smashing her lips onto yours.

“my lip gloss!” you say in protest pulling away from her your face im disbelief.

“who cares.” she says pulling you towards her lips again this time you kiss her back.

one of her hands fall to your waist gripping it softly, while her hand takes its place at the back of your neck, she smiles softly against your lips.

you pull away soon after, “okay, okay, you can kiss me later, but I meant what I said about shopping I need to pick up a new bag, I’m thinking a hot pink one this time.” you say getting ready to drive off.

“I love you.” she says poking your cheek.

you let out a deep sigh, “I love you too, I guess.”

“can you check the magazine that I have in the compartment and choose what juicy sweatsuit I should get?”

oh how she loved her girlfriend.

[unseededtoast]

Begin Again | Spencer Reid x F! Reader

Summary: Based off Hozier’s song “All Things End”. In which things abruptly ended between you and Spencer, and you’ve never been able to reconcile your emotions over the relationship, or losing him. When presented a second chance on a silver platter, you’re grateful for the chance to begin again.

Cross posted on Wattpad and AO3 and here is my masterlist!

wc: 9.2k

warnings: a lot of angst, that's about it.

a/n: and here i am again with another Hozier/Spencer collab. I promise the next one isn't going to be Hozier inspired lol, and I hope not to take two weeks to get the next out, but thank you for reading, it means the world:)

In one single night, the life you had worked so hard for has crumbled right in front of you. All the plans for the future, slipping right through your fingers.

If you had known five years ago where your dream job would lead you, you don't think you would have taken it. In fact, you would've went running in the opposite direction of the FBI's Quantico office, never to step a foot over the threshold. And maybe things would have been better that way, but there's no way to know.

Sure, you loved the job, adored it even. You took pride in knowing that you've saved people and locked the bad guys away, never to see the light of day again. And you loved your team, well, some more than others; but that was five years ago by now. You thought you had left it all behind but here you sit, waiting for your old boss to show up at a restaurant he made reservations at.

Your foot nervously taps against the floor, not entirely sure what to expect. You hadn't heard from anyone on the team in years, and out of the blue your old supervisor wants to meet? It probably doesn't mean anything good. But thankfully, your mind doesn't have to race for much longer as you see your old supervisor, Hotch, walk through the glass doors. You stand to shake his hand, and he greets you.

"It's been a while." He says, sitting down into the chair. You nod your head, scooting your chair closer to the table.

"It sure has been." The tension in the air is palpable, your palms are sweaty and your heart races, beating erratically in your chest.

"How has life been treating you?" He eases into the conversation, sipping on the water the waitress had dropped off before he arrived.

"It's been alright. Took a job as a professor." You say, skirting around the reality of what the past five years have really been like. It wouldn't be professional for you to tell Hotch your world had crashed and burned.

"That's good to hear." He smiles softly, and this time it's your turn to drink some water. You only hope he doesn't notice the tremble in your hands, but you know with his expertise he picked up on it immediately. Unable to take the suspense any longer, you speak up.

"Hotch, why did you call me here?" Your eyes bore into his as you await his answer. He clears his throat and takes a deep breath.

"There's been some changes in management since you've been gone. Strauss no longer oversees the BAU." He says, as if that's supposed to mean anything to you. You swirl the straw around in the cup, trying to give your mind something else to focus on to alleviate the overwhelming nerves.

"That's such a shame." Your voice drips with sarcasm. If you had it your way, Strauss would have fallen off the face of the planet five years ago.

"We would like to reinstate you." The straw stops swirling in the glass and it's like ice fills your veins. Lifting your gaze from the water, you see nothing but seriousness on his face.

"Reinstate me?" You're in disbelief, but Hotch nods.

"Only if you're interested." He says, sliding a file full of paperwork over to you. You open the file and see reinstatement forms waiting for you, a pen clipped to the top. Your mouth falls open in disbelief.

"I didn't think that was possible. After my suspension I was ineligible for any other federal position. So how is this happening?" You read the words on the front page of the form, unsure if you want to fill it out or not.

"I was able to pull some strings. We'd be happy to have you back." You know his words aren't entirely representative of everyone's feelings about you on the team, a pit of unease forms in your stomach the longer you look at the words.

"Well, some people maybe." You mutter, closing the file. Hotch sighs and readjusts his tie.

"The team misses you. Come by the office with me, for old time's sake if nothing else." Hotch offers, and despite the unease about seeing some of your former teammates, your curiosity and love for the job takes over.

"Sure." You agree, a part of you needing to see the office again. The office had practically been your home at one point, and now it's just a bittersweet memory.

The two of you hurry through lunch and before you know it, you're in a familiar passenger seat. Hotch's black SUV hadn't changed a bit, it's nostalgic in the best way possible. The file is clutched tightly in your grasp, your knuckles turning white as you get closer to the office. Familiar streets look the same as you remember, almost as if Quantico is stuck in time. You only hope that not everything about Quantico had been entrapped, you desperately hope that some things have changed.

Hotch parks in front of the building and your throat goes dry, your legs seemingly paralyzed, unable to move from their spot. Noticing your apprehensiveness, Hotch walks around and opens your door, offering you his hand to take. You take his hand and step out of his car, making the trip up to the BAU's office. The elevator ride is quicker than you remember and before you're mentally prepared, the doors slide open and you're met with a familiar space.

You walk behind Hotch, not being brave enough to walk in first. That, plus you're technically a visitor with no right to walk ahead of an agent. It seems the office space has also fallen victim to the time capsule effect. There's not a single desk or chair out of place. Your eyes glance around, seeing Derek's jacket slung over the back of his chair, Emily's usual coffee order beside her computer, and your old desk that sits empty. You purposefully ignore one of the desks, not having the courage to look over there.

Hotch leads you to his office and closes the door behind you. The blinds on his office windows are open, meaning anyone can look in here and see you sitting across from his desk. You're not sure if you want them to see you or not. No, you're definitely sure there's one person you don't want to see you.

"Now, I'm not asking you to make a decision right now. I know there's a lot to consider, but hear me out. I know that you did the right thing back then, if it were up to me you wouldn't have been suspended. You were one of our best and we need you back." He leans forward on his desk and you avert your gaze from him, looking down at the file on your lap. Your foot taps on the ground, mind racing a million miles a minute.

"If I do accept, I get fully reinstated?" It almost feels like a dream, you need to be sure that this is really happening.

"Fully reinstated." Hotch confirms. For the past five years this is all you've wanted, but now that you're presented with the opportunity, you can't help but wonder if the past has tarnished any chance of a new beginning or any fresh start here.

You hear an increase of voices outside of Hotch's office and you can't help but look over. Emily and Derek joke back and forth about something, each with a file in their hand. They must have just returned from a case. Following close behind is the one person you had hoped to avoid altogether, Spencer.

Your heart drops to your stomach, and it's like a bowling ball has been thrown right at your chest, knocking the air from your lungs. He's holding his own file and he takes a seat at his desk, opening the front of it up and quickly filling out the forms inside. His hair has grown out, it's curlier than you remember. And he looks more mature, his features more beautifully defined.

You remember all the mornings you would bring him coffee and all the times he would bring your favorite kind of muffin. How sometimes you'd return from a break and find that your incident report had already been completed. And then there were the times you would camp out at his desk, content to listen to him ramble about anything and everything under the sun. You always adored how animated he got when he was passionate about something, that was until the passion pivoted from topics of interest to yelling at each other in his kitchen. He sure was animated then, too.

"I can walk you out if you'd like." Hotch interrupts your staring and you blink a few times, knocking yourself out of your trance.

"Yeah, I'd like that, thank you." Your voice is hoarse and you make it your mission to keep your gaze focused on the back of Hotch's head as you exit the office. You don't miss the sudden cessation of voices as you two walk out, you can only imagine the conversations that follow your presence here.

Hotch drives you back to your car left at the restaurant and tells you to inform him of your decision, regardless of what it may be. You agree, it's the least you can do, but you don't give an indication one way or the other. Truthfully, you have no idea what you're going to decide. There are a lot of factors to consider, and Hotch knows that. He drives off and you return to your home, unable to think of anything else but the offer to be reinstated.

-----

The forms have sat on your countertop for the past three days, their presence almost suffocating you. You had tried to do other things, grade your student's papers and outline lesson plans but nothing was working. The only thing you can think of is whether or not you should take Hotch up on his offer.

Photos on your walls of the people you've saved stare back at you, their permanently smiling faces reminding you of all the good that came from the job. Your eyes move from one photo to the other, remembering each case as if it happened yesterday. Hardly anyone on the team kept photos like this, but you took inspiration from your mentor, Gideon, and admired how he was able to keep himself from getting lost in the darkness that comes with the territory of the job by reminding himself of those he saved.

While there were people you saved, there were a lot you lost as well. And you can't forget them either, no matter how hard you try. Their cries, screams, and corpses are forever tattooed in your memory and no matter the amount of time that passes, the memories never fade.

Without considering the people saved and the people lost, there's still the matter of your teammates. You had lost contact with them all after your suspension and you don't know if they'd welcome you back with open arms. Besides your suspension, there's the matter of Spencer.

Things hadn't ended well between the two of you, and you're not sure if you two could work together cohesively. Sure, everything happened five years ago but it doesn't take a genius to understand that time doesn't heal all wounds. Not wounds that cut down into someone's soul, the very fiber of their being.

You still remember the last words you ever spoke to one another, you remember the malice you held for each other. And it would be easy to place blame on either one of you, but you know deep down that it was not the sole fault of you, nor him. You each played a part in the relationship's downfall. Without thinking, you find yourself staring at an old team photo and the memory of that fateful night seeps into your mind.

-----

His hand slams down on the granite countertop, causing you to stop speaking immediately. He's never been this angry with you before, or ever, for that matter. His face is red, brows drawn tightly together, veins prominent on his forearms from the adrenaline.

"How could you have been so stupid? You knew what would happen and you did it anyways!" Spencer is trying his best not to outright scream at you, his voice is strained and you stammer to find the words. You can't believe he's actually blaming you for what you did.

"Stupid? If I hadn't done that she would have died. A five year old child would have been slaughtered in front of me. I didn't have time to think about the legality of the situation or how we could have benefitted from keeping the unsub alive, forgive me I forgot you've never made a damn mistake in your life." Anger and sarcasm thickly coat your words as you take a few steps towards him, not keeping your composure as well as him.

You had just shot a man at point blank range to save a girl's life not three hours ago, and had been suspended from the FBI for one. And here you are, having a screaming match with Spencer in his kitchen. You had expected him at least to console you, to reassure you that you had done the right thing, but instead he criticizes you.

His apartment had always been your safe haven. After particularly rough cases, the two of you would return here and hold each other close for however long it took to be okay again. He would make your favorite tea, and you would read him whatever book he wanted, wrapped up in each other's arms, safe. This place was supposed to protect you two from the horrors of the world, be your own little slice of peace. But within the blink of an eye, your safe haven turned into your own personal hell.

"He could have given us so much more information about other victims. There was no guarantee she would have died. If you would have just thought things through none of this would have happened." He shakes his head, voice dropping octaves and it chills you to your core. Your jaw sets tightly and your chest constricts with emotion. After everything you two had overcome together, you can't believe this is the last straw.

"You know what Spencer, you were the one person I thought I could count on to back me up on this." You say, taking steps back and accepting the hard reality that things can never be the same. You turn and make your way to his bedroom and find your bag at the end of the bed. In a rush, you open it and throw some of your belongings in before zipping it up and slinging it over your shoulder.

As you pass him in the kitchen you dig into your pocket and find your keys. With trembling fingers, you take the key to the apartment off the ring and toss it on the counter. Without stopping to gauge his reaction, you reach the front door and turn the handle. Before you take your last steps out of the apartment, you turn back and face him. The man you had planned a life with is now unrecognizable to you, and you force yourself not to cry in front of him. Knowing this could very well be the last time you ever see him, you find it within yourself to say something.

"What happened?" Your voice breaks, betraying your false attitude of confidence. Before he can speak, you close the door behind you and put one foot in front of the other with no destination in mind.

In one single night, the life you had worked so hard for has crumbled right in front of you. All the plans for the future, slipping right through your fingers.

-----

Your fingers ghost over the picture frame, and a lone tear streams down your cheek. It's hard saying how many tears you've shed over the entire situation, and you're sure this won't be the last.

After a while, you find yourself on your couch, snuggled underneath a faux fur blanket and staring at your wall of photos. Their smiles seem to be wider tonight, like they're encouraging you to make a choice. Something within you blooms, a spark of hope burns in your chest and you know that you've made your decision.

The love of the job, the love of helping people, is far stronger than your sorrows over Spencer. You've had five years to come to terms with that relationship ending, but you've never been able to come to terms with losing the job you worked so hard for. Besides, you're not going to let a man force you to change your plans for the future.

Your hands find your phone and you email your resignation to your boss at the university. It's past midterms, and everyone is performing well enough so you decide to pass them all, no final exam needed for anyone.

Not caring about the fallout of your abrupt resignation, you get to work filling out the reinstatement forms. You feel a familiar buzz, the one that has your fingertips tingling with excitement and it's clear that you're making the right decision. You're going to be back where you rightfully belong.

- - - - - The next morning you step off the elevator with the file clutched tightly by your side. Butterflies flutter in your tummy but you force yourself to hold your head high as you open the office doors. You've made a point to dress your best, wanting your reinstatement to be memorable and show people that you're back for good; and you mean business.

Hotch's door is open and so you let yourself in. His eyes widen when he sees you and motions for you to take a seat. He eyes the folder in your hands and you can tell from the way he sets his pen down that he's nervous about what you've come here to say. You could have fun with this moment and make him sweat with anticipation, but you're not cruel and your excitement surely shows through your façade.

"I take it you've come to a decision?" He breaks the silence and meets your eyes. You nod your head, trying your hardest to keep a neutral expression.

"I have." You say and slide the file across his desk. Hotch opens the front cover and you see his shoulder relax, he lets out a breath he had been holding.

"I was hoping you'd come back." He smiles and stands from the desk, extending his hand for you to take. Unable to keep a smile off your face, you feel like this is your first day all over again; bright eyed and hopeful for the future.

"Couldn't keep me away." You tell him and he drops your hand. The clock on his wall reads ten minutes until ten, and you're hopeful that he lets you sit in on the morning's briefing.

"You know the drill, conference room in ten." He says and places the file on a stack on his desk. With a nod of your head, you exit his office and go back to the bullpen, where your confidence falters and reality sets in.

You had convinced yourself last night that the love of this job would be enough but you can't deny the creeping anxiety you feel. How is the rest of the team going to react? And what are you going to do if they're unwelcoming? You know you can count on Spencer being unwelcoming, but you hope the others aren't. You've missed them more than anything.

Ten minutes flies by too quickly for your liking. You had shown up to the conference room early, too anxious about running into someone to do anything else. But one by one the team files in, luckily Hotch comes first and you know with him here nobody will dare say anything to your face. Derek, Emily, and JJ come in shortly after Hotch, each giving you a small smile as they take their seat around the table. The tension is palpable in the air, almost as if an energy is buzzing between all of you. But when Spencer makes his appearance, it's like your heart drops into your stomach.

He blatantly ignores you, opting to take the farthest seat from you, sipping his morning cup of coffee. You try not to look at him, but out of the corner of your eye you can notice even more changes about him. His style, for starters, is one of the biggest changes. It seems he's ditched his sweaters and instead has replaced them with simple button ups, sleeves rolled to his elbows with a simple black tie.

Your heart rate increases as you realize this is not the same man you remember, he seems intimidating now; which is never how you would have described him before. He's not the Spencer you knew at all, and you're not sure if that makes you relieved or pained. Pulling you out of your train of thought, Hotch begins the morning meeting.

"Now, I'm just going to address the elephant in the room. We've regained one of our best team members, and I'm confident that we can all work cohesively together moving forward." You know who his words are for, everyone does. But luckily, Hotch moves on, bringing up pictures of young girls and this time, JJ speaks up.

"Three girls have gone missing in Northeast Harbor, Maine. It's right by the Acadia National Park which makes it a highly traveled place. Each girl attended the local high school, all in the same class. The first went missing three weeks ago, the second went missing two weeks ago, and the third went missing one day ago." JJ gives us the rundown of the case, and you take as many mental notes as you can, feeling a little out of practice from the order of operations. And you don't miss how similar this is to the case the team was working when you were suspended. In fact, this case is eerily similar.

"Local police have called us in before a fourth goes missing. They've found no evidence that the girls have been killed, so we treat this case as missing persons. Wheels up in fifteen." Hotch says, dismissing the team. You know that you will get more details on the flight to Maine, so you don't sweat the smaller details of the case.

Everyone gets up to leave, Spencer is the first out of the room and it's almost as if being in that room was the worst form of torture for him. With a sigh, you get up and follow the others, trying not to dwell on Spencer's actions too much. After all, you knew this was coming.

"It's good to have you back." Emily says as you pass her desk, and you smile, stopping to talk with her.

"It's good to be back. I didn't think I'd ever get this chance." You tell her truthfully, trying to gauge her reactions to you being here. She smiles warmly, her fingers curled around a disposable coffee cup.

"When Strauss retired, bringing you back was one of the first things Hotch wanted to do." She says, which surprises you. With raised eyebrows, you perch on the edge of her desk.

"Really? And everyone was okay with it?" You inquire, wanting to see if she'll give you any helpful information about everyone else's feelings about having you back. She takes a sip of her coffee and nods.

"Really. After you were suspended we conducted our own investigation into the matter and we even went to Strauss about it. But she wouldn't change her mind, no matter what evidence we showed her." Emily sighs and takes another drink. You had never heard of any sort of investigations or other findings, it's all news to you.

"What did you all find?" You ask, nervous to know what had happened after you had been dismissed from service. Emily's eyes look around the bullpen before she steps closer to you.

"We found a notebook at the unsub's house, full of information about the other victims, almost like a step-by-step replay of how he abducted them. We found the other three missing girls locked away in the shed behind his house. It didn't matter if he lived through that day or not, we had saved them all." Her words hit you hard, like you had just walked headfirst into a brick wall. Your mouth falls agape in shock.

Strauss' reasoning for having you suspended was that the use of deadly force wasn't warranted, that it was unnecessary and excessive. Even though he had a knife to a girl's throat, she was hellbent on the idea that had he lived more information would've been found. But the information was found not even twenty four hours after your suspension.

"So you're telling me that not even a full day after she suspended me you all found the other girls alive and well? Killing him didn't affect anything?" You almost can't believe what you're hearing. Emily places a reassuring hand on your shoulder,

"We did. And when you killed him you likely saved that girls' life. His notebook told us that he was planning on ramping up his attacks."  You feel like you could get sick. Out of the corner of your eye you see Spencer walking towards his desk, but all you can focus on is the revelation Emily just revealed to you.

"So my suspension was for nothing?" Your voice wavers as it all sinks in. You had indeed saved that girls life, and hadn't even ruined the chance of finding the others. Your fingers grip the edge of her desk tightly. Emily's grasp on your shoulder tightens, and she brings you in for a hug.

"We all tried our best, but Strauss wasn't having it. But we're glad you're back. We've missed you." She says, backing out of the embrace and leaving you shell-shocked on her desk as she goes to throw away her coffee cup.

-----

The jet is silent as everyone reviews information for the case. Your eyes read the words but your distracted mind can't comprehend them. No, your mind is too busy mulling over the fact that your suspension had been needless. And if that was needless, so was your fight with Spencer. Things didn't have to be this way, but they were.

Your eyes flicker up to Spencer, who's sitting across the jet from you, eyes trained on the papers in front of him. His beauty still manages to take your breath away, though you know you should hate him. You should despise him, but you can't. Some of your fondest memories are shared with him. And no matter how cruel his words were to you, you can't erase the love you still hold for him.

Probably feeling your eyes on him, he looks up and meets your eyes for the first time in five years. Your heart thumps erratically. While his style might have changed and his hair might be curlier now, his eyes are still the same.

You remember waking up and seeing those eyes shining down at you. The memories of looking into those eyes for comfort and love are not lost on you, your heart yearns for more of those moments; but you know that might never happen again.

All too soon, Spencer breaks eye contact with you and continues reading the file. Even more distracted than before, you feign reading the case file. You know you should be trying your best to absorb the information given this is your first case back but your mind is flooded with memories on this jet.

Everywhere you look, you can remember a moment you shared with Spencer. How he would beat you at chess every time, how you two would fall asleep next to each other on the bench seat, hands intertwined. Even the bathroom holds memories of when he would clean blood off of you from particularly bad cases, and how he would hold you as if you were the most precious artifact.

And all of that ended, all of it in the blink of an eye.

You bite the inside of your cheeks as to not cry from the overwhelming emotions you're not longer able to suppress and force yourself to read the words on the paper. Your body betrays you, and a single tear drops from your cheeks and stains the paper.

By the time the jet lands, you've somehow managed to read the case file front to back and have the information basically memorized. A sense of deja vu dances in your head, seeing similarities to the last case you worked. But this time, you vow to yourself that you won't get suspended. In fact, you'd be surprised if you're given any responsibility except for victimology.

-----

Just as you figured, you've been stuck with victimology. Which is fine, you're definitely not about to complain about what responsibilities you're saddled with; you're just happy to be back.

Unfortunately, Spencer has been tasked with the geographic profile, as usual, which means you two are forced to work in close quarters in the police precinct. You're not sure if Hotch did this on purpose or not, but you do your best to keep your head down and get your work done well. You want to impress the team on your first case back to show them you still have what it takes, that you deserve to be here.

You have pictures of the missing girls spread in front of you, and you take your time to study their physicality, to pick out any similarities they share to suggest why they may have been singled out. Your keen eye for detail hasn't deteriorated in the past five years, and you're able to make a list of all physical similarities before you move onto other types of similarities.

While you try your best to focus solely on your work, it's hard to concentrate when Spencer is so close. He's too close for comfort, you can smell his cologne and all you want to do is to be wrapped up in his arms so you can fully appreciate how good he smells. You want to bury your face into the curve of his neck, to feel his skin on yours.

Truthfully, after things ended with you and Spencer, you couldn't bring yourself to let another man touch you. The thought of anyone's hands on you except for Spencer's made you nauseous. You only want him to know your body like that, and beyond the physicality, Spencer knows you on such a deeply intellectual level, an intimate level.

Your gaze travels from your list to his back, watching as he pushes pins into a map. His shoulders strain against the button up, showing you that's he's put on some muscle. It looks good on him, everything about him looks good. It's hard to believe that this is the same man you had planned your life with.

He abruptly turns around from the board, and you're caught red-handed. His eyes immediately find yours that are already trained on him. The expression on his face is unreadable, you silently beg for him to say something, anything, even if it is a criticism. You just need to hear his honeyed, smooth voice say your name. You see him swallow before he clears his throat and returns to his work.

Your throat constricts and you hastily stand from your seat, needing some fresh air. You push past officers walking down the hall and practically run outside. Once the sunshine hits your skin, you try to take some breaths and calm your racing mind. Where your mind should be occupied on the case, the only thing you can think of is Spencer.

Maybe your love for the job just isn't going to be enough for you to get through this.

While standing outside to regain your wits, the team returns and Hotch looks at you with confusion. In fact, they all do, but Hotch is the only one to say something.

"Why are you out here? Is everything okay?" He looks over you and can probably easily see indications of stress. But you hope to stave him off, and downplay the situation.

"I'm fine, just needed some fresh air is all." You smile up at him, really trying to sell your story as the truth. You definitely can't tell him you almost regret being reinstated.

"Yeah, okay. Well, we need you inside to review everything." From the sound of his voice you know he doesn't buy it, but doesn't push the matter any further.

The pit in your stomach returns as you realize you only have a portion of the victimology done. You should have it nearly completed but you couldn't focus for more than five minutes. Internally, you kick yourself and start figuring out what explanation you're going to give.

The entire team crowds in a small conference room within the precinct, ready to debrief on today's findings. Those working in the field speak up first, lending their theories about what kind of person we're looking for. But you already know the kind of monster you're looking for, it's the same as the man you shot.

Your turn comes around and you let out a sigh. Maybe you can blame your rusty skills on the suspension. They might buy it.

"The victims, as we know, are all within the same age range as each other with similar physical features. It's likely that these victims remind the unsub of someone he has a history with." You begin your on-the-fly analysis and hope they can't see right through you. Knowing you still have work to do, you finish with telling them you're wrapping up the additional research. Thankfully, they all receive your answer well.

You turn from the board to take your seat again, meeting Spencer's eyes once more. You can't tell if he's unimpressed or if he's inside his own mind. Quite frankly, you'd rather not know. The thought of him being unimpressed with you feels like a hot iron being pushed through your torso because you remember how euphoric it felt to receive his praise.

-----

"You know I'm perfectly capable of doing this myself." You fight off a laugh, watching your boyfriend scramble for the documents on your desk. He's insisting that he finish your reports so the two of you can go home early. The thought is nice, but you feel bad for him having to do more work.

"I know you can do it and that you'll do it perfectly, but I want to." He says, finally grabbing the file from your hand. With a huff, you let him take the victory and stand from your seat, going to return your dirty mug to the break room.

When you come back into the bullpen, you can't help but to admire how handsome Spencer is. The angles of his nose and jaw are perfection, and his curly brown hair is the softest you've ever felt. After two years of being together, you have yet to find a flaw.

You perch yourself on the edge of his desk, watching his scribbled handwriting fly across the page. As long as Hotch doesn't catch on that Spencer's doing your work, you suppose you can let him finish it this once. While he works to finish the report, your fingers rake through his hair, eager to go home for the night.

You don't really feel like going out, you're tired from the return back to Quantico today and so you hope Spencer doesn't mind staying in. You'll let him pick the movie, and you'll make his favorite dessert; it'll be a picture perfect evening together.

After he's done, you two walk hand in hand down to your car, and you make the familiar trip to Spencer's apartment. Well, to your apartment as well. The two of you had agreed that it makes more financial sense for you to move in with him, and so you did without a second thought.

As the sun sets, casting a warm golden glow throughout the apartment, you close your eyes and snuggle into Spencer's side. His arm wraps around you, pulling you close, and he presses a kiss to the top of your head and reminds you of what a good job you did on the case. The simple moments like these are your favorite, where the two of you are content with just the presence of the other.

-----

Hours later, you're still at the precinct trying to get the victimology done before going back to the hotel. You were hoping Spencer would've left with the rest of the team, but he insisted that he still has work to do. So it's just the two of you working in strained silence.

Every once in a while you glance up at him, only to see that he's engrossed in his work. The familiar crinkle of his eyebrows is prominent as he studies the map in front of him, and you know that before too long he'll reach the conclusion he's looking for. His mind works in mysterious ways that you can't even begin to comprehend.

Not wanting to be caught staring again, you put pen to paper and write out your thoughts and theories. You know that the unsub is physically weak because he's decided to go after young girls and that the unsub is likely a staff member or someone trusted, seeing as how the girls all vanished on school grounds without a commotion. Your pen taps the table as your brain works to flesh out a better profile of the unsub.

About an hour later, your mind is exhausted and you know that even if you stay up trying to figure it out that you won't be able to come up with anything good. Your brain needs a break from critical thinking. You tuck the contents of the file inside rather haphazardly, the thought of a hotel bed is enticing, so enticing that you almost forget Spencer is here with you; that is until you hear him call your name. Feeling as if a weight had been dropped into your stomach, you swallow your nerves and turn to face him. His doe eyes look soft, unlike the guarded expression he wore earlier.

"Yeah?" You ask, thankful your voice doesn't show him how nervous you are. He places the cap back on his marker and rolls up the maps he was working on. With each step that he takes closer to you, your heart thumps harder until he's right in front of you, within your arm's reach.

"It's late, you shouldn't walk back to the hotel alone." He states in a soft tone. Everything within you wants to accept his offer immediately, but the guarded part of you won't let you. Within the last five years you and Spencer had been separated, you had become hyper-independent; and now that part is trying to take control in order to spare your feelings.

"I should be okay, it's only a few blocks away. I wouldn't want to interrupt your work." You say and adjust the grasp you have on your file, going to step away from him. The second your head turns, you feel his hand wrap around your arm gently. His hand is warm, and familiar.

"I've been done with my work for the last two hours." He admits, and your eyebrows crease together.

"Then why stay here? You could've gone back with the team." The confusion is prominent in your voice. It just doesn't make sense, and Spencer is a man that prides himself on making logical choices. He licks his lips, a nervous habit you had picked up during your first year on the team.

"Well I just- I just needed to make sure that you got back alright." You can see the insecurity from the slouch in his shoulders and his stumbling of words. Your throat is dry, and you feel yourself start panicking. You don't know what to do. A part of you just wants to kiss him but the other part remembers the look on his face when he called your actions stupid.

"Hotch reinstated me, I have my gun back. I'll be okay." You reason with him, eyes darting down to the holster on your hip.

"I know that. But, please, just let me walk you back." He practically begs. You know you don't have a good reason to tell him no, other than for selfish reasons. So you just nod, and he follows you out of the precinct.

The streetlights offer a good amount of light, and the critters in the trees hoot and chirp around, bringing life to the dark. Besides the wildlife, your footsteps are the only other thing to be heard. That is, unless he can hear how your heart is about to beat out of your chest. Never in this lifetime did you ever think this scenario was plausible, yet here you are. Walking side by side with Spencer as if you two didn't once share everything under the sun. As you walk back, you know your time is limited, and there's one burning question you've wanted to ask.

"Spencer, why didn't you tell me that the team had found those girls the next day?" Your voice is hoarse from how dry your throat is, and Spencer slows his pace. He looks down to the sidewalk and licks his lips before answering.

"I didn't think you would want me to contact you. You left your key on the counter and packed a bag, I knew you weren't coming back." His voice is quiet and sounds pained. Your pace slows to match his.

"I mean, I had just shot a man and you told me I was stupid." You point out, vividly recalling the sound of his hand coming into contact with the countertop. Your heart shatters a little more each time you think about it. It's still hard to believe that your loving Spencer was capable of being so angry with you. Glancing from the sidewalk to Spencer's face, you don't miss how his lower lash line looks wet. His hands are tucked into his pockets, eyes glued to the pavement, until they snap up and see you standing there, illuminated only by the streetlamp.

"You weren't stupid. You did what you had to do to save the girl. I was just scared. I was so scared of what they were going to do to you. They suspended you and I didn't know if it was going to end there. I thought maybe that they might even press criminal charges." He tells you, and while it makes sense, it still doesn't justify his actions in your mind.

"I was scared out of my mind. That was the first person I ever killed." You tell him, aware that he already knows that. But if you all are rehashing the past, why not bring it up? You'd be lying if you said you weren't trying to slightly guilt trip him.

"I should have been there for you, no matter what they were going to do. I panicked and made you leave your home." His voice cracks and you feel your own voice constrict. Your free hand balls into a fist to keep yourself from reaching out to him and comforting him.

"You had to protect yourself too. If you defended me too much, you could've been facing suspension as well." You had thought over the entire scenario every day for the last five years and know that part of his reaction was likely to protect himself as well. It hurts, but you understand. The job is everything to him.

"I would have rather been suspended than lose you." A lone tear drips down his cheekbone. Your brain feels like it's short circuiting from trying to keep up with everything that he's telling you. But you recognize the gravity of the situation you're in and you know that this is your chance to start making amends or burn the remnants.

"Spencer. This is, this is a lot-" You start speaking but he's cutting you off.

"Please, take your time and think about it. I'll give you all the time in the world if that's what you need." His words bring some relief, the pressure of making an on-the-fly decision while mentally exhausted is alleviated, but you know you're going to have to figure things out soon.

The two of you walk back to the hotel in silence, save for a sniffle here and there from Spencer. You decide that you'll work this case and go back to Quantico, and by then you should have your mind made up. He walks you to your door and bids you a goodnight before returning to his own room. As he walks down the hall, a small part of you already knows what decision you're going to make.

-----

The team had the case solved in three days. It was easy enough, the unsub practically singled himself out in staff interviews and the girls were all found alive, thankfully. He had been keeping them in a cellar attached to his house, bound and gagged. You're glad this one ended without incident, and you're grateful to see the reunification of the girls with their parents.

But, the job never stops, and so the team loads back onto the jet to Quantico. You feel Spencer's eyes on you for the entire ride back, but you do your best to ignore him. You had your mind made up, but you just weren't sure of what you wanted to say and you knew that if you looked at him that you would give yourself away. The perfect words are needed to fully express your sentiments, it needs to be done right. Plus, he said you had all the time in the word. But, the part of you that's missed him for the last five years is becoming very impatient and you know you're going to tell him soon.

As the team disembarks from the jet, talking about their weekend plans, you come up with what you believe is a good idea. The team waltzes into the office and conducts their investigation reports, excited to start their weekend while you fill your file out with the utmost haste, you practically buzz with anticipation.

"You got a hot date to get to or something?" You hear Derek ask you, gaining the attention from some of the others, Spencer included. Your eyes bounce from him back to Derek and you shake your head.

"Oh, no I just want to get it all on paper before I forget." You lie, probably very unsuccessfully judging by the look Derek gives you, but he drops it. Within seconds, he's back to talking about his plans to Emily.

Twenty minutes later and you're practically running out of the office and to your apartment. Before you carry out your idea you want to make sure you look your best. So you take your time to shower, do your hair, and pick out a flattering outfit. If everything goes accordingly, this could very well be the start of a new beginning.

-----

Standing outside of an all too familiar door, you knock before you can talk yourself out of it. You hear footsteps on the other side, and within seconds, the door swings open. Spencer stands in the doorway, looking as if he's seen a ghost. His mouth drops open and he blinks at you a few times.

"Can I come in?" You ask, knocking him out of his daze. He nods enthusiastically,

"Yes, of course." He opens the door wider for you and you step over the threshold.

The apartment is almost exactly how you left it. In fact, you see that your belongings are still on display. Your favorite blanket is draped over the couch, the rug you had picked out is splayed underneath the coffee table, and the artwork you had chosen still adorns the walls. You figured he would've thrown everything of yours out. He comes to stand beside you, watching your reaction as you take it all in.

"I couldn't bring myself to change anything. I hoped that one day you would come back." He says, looking down at you. The eyes that meet yours are the same ones that you looked to for comfort, all that time ago, and are now finding a new comfort from them.

"I figured it would all be gone." You admit and take one more look around. He shakes his head.

"Would you like some coffee? I have the blend from the shop down the street." Spencer offers, heading towards the kitchen. Your heart swells knowing that he still gets coffee from your favorite shop. He had never been the biggest fan of their particular blend, but he still got it because he knew it was your favorite. And it seems like he never stopped getting it.

"Yeah, that would be nice, thank you." As he walks off into the kitchen, you let yourself walk around to inspect the apartment some more. Your fingertips graze over the blanket on the couch and you notice that on the coffee table there's a book. But it's not just any book, it's the one you had been reading before that fateful night, and when you open it, you see that the bookmark is still there, left at the exact spot you had left off.

Spencer walks back into the room and sees you holding the book. He puts the coffee down on the table and licks his lips, watching as your eyes scan the page. You close the book and put it down, taking a spot on the couch. It's still just as comfortable as you remember. Wanting to enjoy the nostalgia and old comforts, you take your time sipping on the coffee, reminiscing.

"You know, I never thought I'd ever leave this place." You speak, looking out of the window, seeing traffic passing by. The last bit of coffee makes its way down your throat and you know you've stalled for long enough.

"I never wanted you to leave." Spencer says after a few moments of silence. You set the cup on the coffee table and look over at him. He's taken a spot on the opposite side of the couch. Your heartstrings tug and you begin questioning why this all had to happen in the first place.

"You told me you would give me all the time I needed." You start your well-rehearsed rhetoric, and he nods.

"As long as you need." His voice is soft and genuine. You feel your fingertips buzz with anxiety, and you pick at the seams of your pants, trying to alleviate the jittering.

"I've taken as long as I needed. Well, I've actually taken more time than I needed but I wanted to be sure of what I was choosing." You feel your hands start to shake, you're not sure why you're so nervous. This is your Spencer. But it feels like the first time meeting him all over again. His eyes are intently on you, studying every micro expression.

"And?" He swallows hard, eyes growing slightly wider. You break his gaze and look around the cozy apartment. This feels like home.

"And I feel like the last five years I've been wandering with no destination. I got a new job, new apartment, but it all felt temporary. And I was never sure why. I tried to replace everything, furniture, new books, all of it; but it never felt like mine." You explain, taking the long route to the point.

A moment of silence passes between the two of you. The energy between the two of you is practically buzzing with nervousness.

"But I guess what I'm trying to say is that this feels like home. Being here, with you, feels like home." Your bottom lip quivers as the words pass your lips. Thinking the words and saying they hold two very different gravities.

Spencer's shoulder visibly relax and he lets out a breath. He smiles widely at you, tears threatening to spill over onto his face. You feel your own eyes water, and the hole in your heart feels as if a little of it is mending.

"It doesn't feel like home without you." He says and crosses the couch, pulling you into his embrace.

The feeling of his arms around you causes the withheld tears to fall, dripping down your cheek and landing on his arms. It's almost surreal that this is happening. What you thought had lost, what had slipped away from you, is returning you and allowing you to begin again.

"I am so sorry for everything I said. I didn't mean it, and I hope you know that. This doesn't even begin making up for any of it, but I will work every day to prove to you that I am better. I love you so much it hurts." Your heart swells at his words, and you know he means them. The way he's holding you is all the proof of authenticity you need.

"I love you too, I've missed you every single day." You tell him, voice breaking while you hold onto him tightly.

Your eyes close as you savor the feeling of him holding you. Spencer presses a kiss to the top of your head, and you look up at him with watery eyes.

The golden sunlight filtering in from the window illuminates his glistening honey eyes. Your hand comes up and wipes a tear from the corner of his eye, and he leans into your touch, eyes fluttering shut. Gently, your thumb caresses his cheekbone, appreciating his beauty up close once more.

When his eyes open, finding you staring back at him, it's like Spencer has his own gravitational pull. Before you know it, he's tucking your hair behind your ear and holding your face, bringing you closer to him. After five long years of waiting for this moment again, your lips finally meet his.

It's just like the first kiss you ever shared. You're nervous, but full of excitement for the future. You can't possibly imagine anything ending between the two of you again. And sure, it might take time to heal each other, but you're finally back home where you belong and that's good enough for now.

Spencer deepens the kiss, and you smile into it, already falling back into pattern with ease. It's like the two of you were made for each other; two halves of one whole.

When your lungs beg for oxygen, you break away from him with warm, swollen lips and rosy cheeks. Leaning your forehead against his, your adjust so that he's laying back against the armrest and your situated between his legs, your back to his chest.

There are no words to bring justice to the fullness you feel. The hole that was created when you walked out of that door is filling itself back in with each second you spend in his arms. You're content for the first time in a long time.

As you lean your head back against his chest, you take a deep breath and remind yourself that this is just the beginning of a long, fulfilling life with Spencer. He presses a soft kiss to the side of your face, whispering to you that he loves you once more.

[holylulusworld]

The Grinch

Summary: We get to know how you and Lloyd got together.

Pairing: Lloyd Hansen x Assistant!Reader

Warnings: Christmas mood, sweet reader, maybe clueless reader, language, a little fluff, a hint of groping

A/N: This is the prequel to my miniseries: Plant Apocalypse

“Put your Christmas sweater on,” you sing along to the music blaring from your phone. You shake your ass and giggle as the snowman you placed on your desk starts singing the moment you pass him by. “Yeah, you too!”

Lifting the box with Christmas decorations you huff. There are so many people around in this house and no one offered their help with the Christmas decoration.

You walk over to Lloyd’s office, smiling wildly as one of the newer agents wishes you happy holidays.

“Cheery and bright, guys,” you coo and wave at the men discussing the next job, or target. 

You shrug when they don’t look your way. Whatever they are up to is none of your business. From the moment you started working for Lloyd, you knew it was better to shut your mouth and not ask too many questions about his business.

While you fight to open the door and balance the box in your arm the men get louder. They seem to fight over something the newbie said.

“Hey, no fighting in here.” You yell, and the men stop in their tracks. “Mr. Hansen hates it when you demolish the headquarters!”

“Sorry,” they mumble. No one would believe that five bulky and heavily armored men stopped fighting only because you yelled at them.

“That’s much better. It’s Christmas, team. We should be cheery and happy, not fight. In the kitchen are cookies and later we can have hot chocolate.”

You managed to open the door and walk inside the office, huffing as it looks cold and unwelcoming.

There are monitors on the wall and a desk in the middle of the room. The other wall is grey and undecorated. Nothing is making you sadder than a room without decoration and plants.

“I’ll turn this cold room into a nice office,” you put the box on the couch standing next to the door. “Mr. Hansen will love it.”

You clap your hands and cheer yourself up. 

“What the fuck is that?” Lloyd feels like he’s going to vomit rainbows. He looks around his office, shaking his head in disbelief. “I was away for two hours, and someone infiltrated my office and turned it into Santa’s shithole.”

“Mr. Hansen, you are back!” You squeal and walk toward Lloyd. “Welcome to your new office. I decorated it for you to make it look more festive.”

“I-“ He chokes on air as there is a rocking Santa next to his beloved gun shelf. You even dared to sling a fairy light around one of the shotguns. “What did you do? You are…you are…”

He looks you up and down. You’re wearing an ugly Christmas sweater with a snowman and blinking lights.

“I know.” You wrap Lloyd in a hug. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it? I got a Christmas sweater for you too, Sir. You’ll love it. It matches your eyes.” 

Lloyd opens his mouth. He wants to tell you that you are fired. You violated his sanctuary, his beloved office but he can’t bring the words out. I mean, he killed people for less, but he can’t hurt you, or ruin your festive mood.

“I got you a matching one,” you smile sweetly. “I had hoped you’d wear it when we have hot chocolate and cookies.”

“Cupcake,” he sighs deeply and runs one hand down his face. Lloyd is a cold-blooded man and doesn’t give a shit about people, but he cares for you. “If I wear this thing, my men will believe I got weak and kill me.”

“Oh,” you sniffle. “I didn’t think this through. You’re a dangerous and strong man. Men like you don’t wear Christmas sweaters or kiss a girl under the mistletoe.”

“Mistletoe?” He cocks his head as you point at the mistletoe you hung up above his desk. Lloyd smirks. “So…did you already test the mistletoe?”

“I was alone at your office, Mr. Hansen,” you giggle. “It’s physically impossible for me to kiss myself.”

“Cupcake, you’d wonder about the uncanny flexibility of some people,” he gives you a dirty grin.

You wrinkle your nose. “Gross.”

“Yeah, a pretty girl on her knees is much better than suckin—” You cover his mouth to stop Lloyd from saying something gross.

“Do you like the decoration?” You look up at Lloyd with glassy eyes. “It’s pretty, isn’t it?” Sighing dreamily, you wait for Lloyd’s answer.

“Let’s see.” Lloyd walks you backward until you stand under the mistletoe. “How about we follow the tradition of kisses under the mistletoe?”

He cups your face and presses his lips to yours. Lloyd kisses you slowly, and almost sweetly. A stark contrast to his personality and profession.

“That was,” you whimper against his lips, “nice.”

“Not bad, cupcake,” he steps away to watch you stand on wobbling legs. He hums and almost doesn’t hate the decoration until his eyes land on a plant on his desk. “What is that?”

“Oh…” you smile sweetly. “I love plants, Lloyd. Don’t you love plants too?”

“I should shoot it for standing near my laptop,” he grunts and pokes the plant with his index finger.

“You’ll get used to it. How about I show you the plants at my apartment?” He watches you wring your hands. For months you tried to find the guts to ask Lloyd out and now you got him where you want him. “I’ll cook for you.”

“Hmm…” He is considering your offer. “I hope you know I love dessert the most…” Lloyd grins. He wraps his arm around your waistline and moves his hand to your ass. “Maybe we can have dessert first…”

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[vodika-vibes]

True Love

Summary: Fives is a man on a mission. His mission? Remind his riduur that she’s the only one for him.

Pairing: ARC Trooper Fives x F!Reader

Word Count: 828

Warnings: None

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni @imabeautifulbutterfly

A/N: So, full disclosure, this was supposed to be the event request for @l0nesome-dreams but I only read the first part of the request and went, yes, ideas, and only realized I went off the rails when I finished writing it, lol. SO. That will be properly written at a later point in time. So, uh, have a random Fives story?

The worst part of having a secret wife, is the fact that he can’t be as blunt to the people flirting with him as he’d prefer. The second worst thing is the fact that his brothers think that he’s lonely and needs help getting dates.

That leads him to this situation. Where an, admittedly pretty, woman is leaning into his personal space, and his mind is racing for what to say that won’t be too insulting, but also won’t out the fact that he’s a happily married man.

She leans further into his personal space, and Fives takes a half step back, keeping some distance between them. He glances at his chrono and his heart sinks. He’s late. 

His poor riduur is probably wondering where he is.

The woman leans closer to him, and Fives moves quickly to keep her from touching him, “Aww…you’re shy.”

“Look, I’m flattered, but I’m really not interested.” He says.

“Your brothers said that you would say that.” She smiles at him, it’s a pretty smile, but Fives really isn’t interested in her. “I can go as slow as you like.”

“Again,” Fives says slowly, “I’m flattered, but not interested.” He glances at the chrono one more time, maybe, if he’s quick, he can stop at the bakery that his riduur likes so much and get her a lemon bar.

The woman huffs, “Do you have somewhere to be?”

Fives grabs the chance with both hands, “Yes. Actually. And I’m late. If you’ll excuse me.” He almost makes it to the entrance of the Club before Rex flings his arm over his shoulder, “Son of a kriffing-”

“Where are you going, Fives?” Rex asks.

“Cap, Rex, I’m late. I have to go.”

“Oh? Have a hot date?”

Fives doesn’t answer, and he averts his gaze from his brothers, it’s a damned shame he isn’t a better liar, “I just have to pick something up before the store closes.”

“We went through all of this trouble to help you find a date, vod-”

“I’m not interested.” Fives blurts, “Not in her. Not in anyone you’ll ever pick for me. Rex, I have to go. I’m late.”

Rex presses his hand against Fives’ chest plate, “Late for what?”

Fives flounders, and then he sighs, “I was supposed to meet my wife half an hour ago, and if I leave now I can bring her a lemon bar from her favorite bakery to make up for being late. Can I go?”

“You’re married!?”

“REX!”

“Yes! Go.”

Fives pushes past his brother and out of the club.

He’s lucky, the bakery is still open when he arrives, and he’s able to get a whole box of the lemon bars his riduur prefers, before he runs home. He takes the stairs two at a time and impatiently keys in the door code before he stops in the front hallway.

Home smells like her. Like vanilla and flowers and everything good and nice in the galaxy that he never thought that he’d have. Home also smells like stew and fresh baked bread.

Fives quickly pulls his armor off, with one hand, and he heads into the kitchen. His riduur, his perfect beautiful Riduur, is still making dinner.

Thank the Force.

“I’m home,”

She turns and a bright smile crosses her face when she sees him, “Fives, welcome home.” She lays her spoon over the pot and turns to greet him with a hug, “You stopped at the bakery?”

“I know that I’m late-” Fives replies as he sets the box on the table, “So I stopped and got your favorite dessert.”

She giggles and presses a hand to her mouth, “I got a late start too, honestly. I’m sorry dinner isn’t ready.”

“Don’t be. I don’t mind.” He settles his hands on her hips and leans in to lightly press his forehead against hers, “Rex and the others dragged me to 79s.” He admits, “They think, thought, that I was lonely.”

“Oh?”

“They set me up on a blind date,” Fives adds.

A glimmer of uncertainty crosses her face, “Was she pretty?”

“I suppose. I wasn’t paying attention.” He brings one hand up to brush her cheek, “I was thinking about you.”

She ducks her head, a blush crossing her face, “You’re a sap.”

“True.” Fives kisses her gently, “I had to tell Rex about you before he’d let me leave.”

“Oh, Fives-”

“It’s okay. I doubt I’ll get into much trouble.” He kisses her one more time, “Don’t you worry about it. You won’t get into trouble, I promise.”

“I’m worried about you.”

“I know. Don’t worry, Rex is reasonable.” He kisses her again and again, “Now, how much still needs to be done for dinner, and how can I help?”

“Um…a lot. How about you go shower and change, and you can help after?”

“Deal.” He catches her lips in one more kiss, “Love you, riduur.”

She sighs, a dreamlike smile on her face, “Love you more.”

[honeyhotteoks]

this night together - chapter five (j.yh + s.mg)

chapter five: not so easy to ignore

chapter summary: things at the studio turn out just about as bad as expected, but wooyoung takes you under his wing and introduces you to some new friends.

warnings: references to a/b/o dynamics such as heat and knotting and designations, alcohol/drinking, angst, sad vibes, but also good vibes?, reference to work place sexual harassment but not like you think

notes: thank you all so much for your kind feedback on this fic. i'm having an absolute blast writing it, and i'm so thankful for all the people giving it a try even tho this genre isn't their thing! that means a lot. this is the last chapter i have written in full, so chapter six may take a little extra time. i'm about to hit a few insane weeks of work, so i'll do my best but please be patient with me. there's a lot more chapters to come though, i promise.....

pairings: alpha!yunho x alpha!mingi x omega!reader

genre: smut, a/b/o/omegaverse, angst, fluff, romance, polyamory

word count: 6.9K

previous chapter | next chapter | AO3

As it turns out, you can’t just go back to being friends. When you wake in the morning you still feel sick, and your first thought is to wonder if Yunho does too. Maybe Mingi feels the same, but was better at hiding it. Maybe you’ll get to the studio and they’ll take you in their arms like a movie and kiss the breath out of you and hold you close and tell you they should have never, ever driven you home. But you doubt it. 

You’ve been in love before, and you’ve had crushes before that. You’re no stranger to getting tangled up in emotional webs, it’s just usually not with people you work with and it’s usually so much easier to walk away. Or run, as you’re used to doing. This body, this designation, this biology, it makes everything always feel so confusing and artificial. Do you want them or does your omega? Do you need them or is it just the after effects of heat? 

It’s a lot easier when you lie to yourself. 

You’ve been dealing with this biology all your life. That’s all this is, and after a little time and a little distance, your body will catch up to your mind and stop feeling this way about them. 

You take those aching feelings and lock them away tightly and then you get up. You shower, you take a deep breath, and then you buy yourself the fanciest coffee you can think of despite the absolute lack of funds in your checking account. This momentary serotonin will be worth the overdraft fee if that’s where it puts you, you need this. 

By the time you get to the studio, you’re pretty confident that you’re over them, convincing yourself that it was just fun, good sex. Great sex, even, but still just sex. 

But the minute you see Mingi every stitch of the resolve you knit for yourself unravels, and he looks surprised to see you even though it was part of the plan that you’d return today. He leaves the room before you can even open your mouth and try to say something innocuous and you know right then and there you were right all along. It was never going to be that simple. 

Yunho blushes when he sees you, his ears turning a dark shade of pink and for a second he trips over his words addressing the wider group. 

Mingi avoids your touch when you cross his path at lunch, offering you just a quick hello and then he’s gone again. 

Instead of searching for their eyes, you start to get really comfortable with the wood grain of the floor and do your best just to focus on yourself. You’re working on something new, and a week ago you would have stayed late to fine tune your understanding of the choreography with Mingi while he waited on Yunho to wrap up in the back office, but you know those days are gone. 

When practice ends they disappear, and you’re left to pack up by yourself. You give it a few minutes, thinking maybe when the rest of the crew trickles out maybe they’ll come to you, but they don’t. So much for being adults about this. You blink back hazy tears as you pull on your jacket, focused on packing up as fast as you can now just to get the hell out of this room. 

You don’t even hear him coming up behind you. 

“Come on,” Wooyoung says with a roll of his eyes, “we’re going for drinks.”

“I really should get home,” You glance over at him as you finish packing up your bag. 

“I’m buying,” Wooyoung counters, “so you really have no excuse.” 

What you really want is to go home and bury yourself under the covers for the foreseeable future. Every awkward second glance with Yunho was making you want to curl into a ball and every moment Mingi spent pretending he barely knew you made you want to go home and cry. An entire day filled with almost sentences and troublesome glances and all you can tell yourself is that you knew it, you were right all along. 

You don’t answer Wooyoung, and instead you just can’t help yourself, you look behind you towards the back office, but neither of the men you want to see are there. 

“Are you really so afraid of making friends you’re turning down free drinks?” Wooyoung prods your side, “That’s really fucking lame of you,” 

“Wooyoung,” You sigh, your head dropping back. 

“It’s fine,” He says, his voice lilting up in a sing-song, “I thought you were cool,” 

Your jaw tightens. 

“And I’m not usually wrong,” He goes on, “but it’s fine, I’m man enough to admit when I’m wrong, and you, y/n, are lame.” 

“Fine!” You snap up and meet his eyes, “Fine, I’ll come, but just one drink.” 

“Excellent,” He smiles, and you’re starting to get the sense that Wooyoung doesn’t really take no for an answer ever. 

“One drink,” You repeat. 

“Yeah,” He shrugs off, “come on, get your stuff, we’re meeting San at 1987.” 

“Where?” 

“Bar,” He brushes off your question without really answering, “let’s go,” 

Wooyoung turns on his heel without a second thought, and he’s off. You have to jog to keep up with him to get out of the building, and he’s mostly quiet until you hit the evening street outside. He slows to a casual pace and turns his head to you when he says, “You like San, right?” 

The question catches you off guard, “Of course,”

Wooyoung smiles, “He’s definitely all business at work, most of the time, but don’t worry.” 

“Why would I worry?” Your brow furrows, every interaction you’ve had with San so far has been perfectly pleasant, albeit professional.

“I just mean he’s fun,” Wooyoung corrects himself, “he’s just really serious about the work,” 

“You’re all kind of like that,” You point out, “mostly,” 

“Right,” Wooyoung nods, winding his way through an alley and you divert off the main street to follow him as he leads you through the back way to their regular spot. 

“He takes training really seriously,” You offer, “but I think that’s good. We could all hurt ourselves if we weren’t following his plans,” 

Wooyoung grins, “Oh, he’s going to like the sound of that.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Mhm,” Wooyoung lays a hand softly between your shoulder blades to direct you through a small crowd, “follow that up with how handsome he is and you’ll get special treatment forever.” 

You laugh sharply, “Noted.” 

He points ahead, “Just up there,” 

At the far end of the alley is a hanging neon sign, the ‘7’ in ‘1987’ flickering intermittently. It’s not as flashy as some of the other bars or restaurants along the street you’re walking, but that looks to be part of the charm. As you make your way up to the door and inside, Wooyoung is quick to greet a few people on the sidewalk, throw a wave to the bartender, and he throws around names and details to you faster than you can pick up on them. 

San waits at a table in the far corner, two light, wheat beers already waiting on the table. When he glances up from his phone and sees you both his eyes widen but he smiles pleasantly. 

“Hey!” He smiles, standing and pulling a chair out for you, “I didn’t realize you were coming, I would have ordered you something,” 

“I’m not crashing plans, am I? Woo didn’t say,” You glance between them. 

“Not at all,” San shakes his head, gesturing for you to sit, “you’re more than welcome. Seonghwa should be coming too at some point,” 

“Oh,” Your stomach does a little nervous flip flop. 

“Chill,” Wooyoung interrupts your thoughts immediately, “have a drink, make some friends.” 

You smile, taking your seat and letting San push it in for you so you’re settled at the table before he returns to his own place, gesturing for the server’s attention, “What’s your drink?” he asks you. 

“Whatever you’re having is good,” You make it simple. 

San smiles and points to their glasses before holding up a finger and silently communicating to the server that they need one more. He’s more relaxed than you’ve ever seen him, now outside of work full of easy, confident energy. 

“Well,” Wooyoung smiles and takes a long sip of his drink, “this is nice,” 

“Yeah,” You’re not entirely sure what you’re doing here, but you might as well go with it, “thanks for letting me tag along,” 

“Mm,” San’s eyes are trained on the serving staff but he nods, and then stands as your server approaches, meeting them halfway and taking the beer, thanking them profusely for running it out so quickly. When he returns to the table he presents your drink with ease, “There we go,” 

“Thank you,” You nod, accepting the cold glass, and now that it’s in your hand you’re grateful to have the drink after the day you’ve had. 

The sip is calming, cool and crisp, and you sigh as you swallow, not realizing the way you’re being watched by both men. 

Wooyoung’s words nearly knock you sideways, and a tiny piece of you is grateful he waited until you finished sipping your drink, “So, how was your heat?” 

You cough anyways though, just the idea that someone would say it so brazenly, and in public, “What?” 

“Youngie,” San slaps him with the back of his hand, “you can’t ask her that,” 

Wooyoung ignores him, leaning forwards with his elbows on the table now, “The perfume isn’t helping as much as you think,” he says and you blanch, “and I’ve never seen Yunho stare at someone for so long in my life, so,” 

He barely met your eyes all day, and your head snaps up, “He was staring?” 

His mouth quirks up on one side and San swivels his head towards you. Wooyoung nods, “Like a puppy,”

“Fuck,” You breathe. 

Both their eyebrows raise. 

“Sorry, sorry,” You lean back in your chair, hiding your face in your hands. So much for a convenient story about them having the flu. 

“You can curse,” Wooyoung laughs, “I just didn’t expect you to admit it that fast, I thought I’d have to pry it out of you.”

“Oh, this is so bad,” You groan. 

“Why bad?” San asks, “Yunho’s nice,” 

You sigh, still hiding your face.

“He’s easily one of the best guys I know,” San continues, “and there’s nothing that says we can’t date within the company, we’re not idols,” 

“Oh god,” You groan again. 

“Is it so bad he has a crush on you?” San asks. 

Wooyoung breaks into hysterics and your hands fall away, a blank, open expression on San’s face as he tries to pick up on the joke. You wince, shaking your head, “It’s worse than that,” 

“Worse,” San repeats, still slow on the uptake. 

“Woo,” You find his eyes with yours, “please don’t make me say it.” 

He sobers quickly, and takes a swig of his beer, “Right,” he faces San, “Yunho had the flu, but it wasn’t really the flu. They were heat partners.” 

“Oh,” San says, “oh,” 

“Exactly,” You sigh. 

There’s a beat and then San’s brow screws up in confusion, “Didn’t Mingi have the flu too?” 

Heat tints your cheeks pink instantaneously and you look down at your glass, suddenly focused on the tiny bursting bubbles at the top of your beer. You brace yourself for their reaction. 

“Holy shit,” Wooyoung breathes, “y/n, you’re a god,” 

“What?” Your head snaps up. 

“Both of them?” Wooyoung shakes his head, “Tell me everything,” 

“You don’t have to do that,” San interrupts him again, smacking the back of his arm, “he’s needlessly curious, but you know, you don’t have to share if you don’t,”

The words flood out of you, a small piece of you thankful that you don’t have to hold this whole thing inside yourself forever, “I went into heat at the studio,” 

“What?” Wooyoung’s face softens, and you know that he understands just what that means. The anxiety, the fear, all of it. 

“This is embarrassing,” You sigh. 

“Then you don’t have to,” San tries again, wanting badly to save you from any further humiliation or pressure. 

You ignore him and hold Wooyoung’s eyes, “Friends, right?” 

He nods. 

You swallow hard and then take the leap, “I can’t afford my suppressants right now,” you start and his eyes soften more, “I thought I had rationed them right, but after the recording it hit me like a truck.” 

“I knew you seemed off,” Wooyoung says softly, “then what?” 

“Mingi found me in the locker room, and then he got Yunho, and they made sure I got out of there okay,” You lean back, crossing your arms and biting the inside of your lip. 

“Sharing your heat was unplanned?” Wooyoung clarifies. 

“Yes,” 

“And it was,” He searches for the right words, “I mean… were they okay? Everything was okay?” 

You know what he’s asking without asking, and you nod, “Completely, it was more than okay, they were…”

“They’re both good guys,” San says, “it’s good they were there.” 

“Yeah,” You breathe, before snapping yourself out of own head and reaching for your beer again, “anyways, yes, so they took me back to their place and now it’s four, five days later and everything’s so fucking awkward,” 

“Hmm,” Wooyoung murmurs, “and it was good?” 

You nod, lips pressed tight together in a line. 

“Oh, it was too good,” Wooyoung grimaces, “yikes.” 

“Right,” You sigh, “and Yunho and Mingi both made it pretty clear that this was a one-time casual sex thing, which is fine, but also you know how heat goes. Everything is all jumbled up now,” 

“Mm,” Wooyoung nods, and then his eyes shift to above your head and he grins, “Hwa, right here!”

Park Seonghwa appears a moment later, a warm smile on his angular face and he pushes a lock of dark black hair behind his ear as he finds an open seat and slides into the table, “Hey,” he greets, and then turns to you, “hi, y/n, nice to see you outside the studio,” 

“You too,” You smile. 

San once again repeats his process for getting Seonghwa a drink, and your stomach tightens as you think about what Wooyoung might say in front of this man you barely know. 

“It looks like I interrupted something,” Seonghwa says a few moments later when everything is still quiet and hanging still. 

Wooyoung doesn’t say it, he just holds your gaze intently and raises an eyebrow as if to say - Can I? 

You sigh, catching Seonghwa off guard, and then you nod. 

“y/n just got back from heat leave,” Wooyoung turns to Seonghwa to explain, “with Yunho and Mingi.” 

You expect a sheepish or embarrassed reaction, someone quick to divert the conversation away from sex, but it turns out you don’t know Seonghwa as well as you thought. He merely makes a noise of acknowledgement and glances to you, “How messy are things, then? They were both being weird today,” 

“I don’t know,” You answer honestly with a sigh. 

“They said they wanted it to be a one-time thing,” Wooyoung says, “but is the problem that you like them? Or one of them?” 

“I can see that,” Seonghwa smiles, “Yunho kind of oozes perfect boyfriend,” 

“It’s not that,” You shake your head, words bubbling up as you try to make sense of it, “it probably shouldn’t have happened at all, and I’m new, I don’t want to make anything weird or uncomfortable, but we spent like four days together… it was intense, and now I just feel like I can’t not think about it when I look at them,” 

“Intense, good?” Wooyoung quirks a brow, nudging you under the table. 

“Woo,” You sigh, “I’ve never felt like that,” 

“What do you mean?” He asks softly, the two alphas at the table going silent to watch you both. 

“I don’t know what it is about them,” You confess, “but the entire time all they did was make sure I was okay, they were so tender and kind, and when I left I just wanted to go back.”

“Oh,” Wooyoung murmurs, “you’ve got it bad,” 

“My hormones are just out of whack,” You shake your head, “you know what it’s like. Have an alpha tell you they want to give you pups enough times and your brain short circuits,” 

Seonghwa shifts in his seat and San clears his throat, but Wooyoung just laughs. 

“Anyways, yes,” You take another sip of your drink, “I spent my heat with them, had the best sex of my life, and now I’m sitting here with a stomach ache because I don’t know where they are right now. I feel like the universe is playing a trick on me,” 

“Wait,” Wooyoung starts to say, but you’re on a roll now, the single beer hitting just a little harder than it should have. 

“Working here, with all of you, was my dream. I just think it’s funny that I haven’t even been here for three months and I’ve already managed to fuck it up, because now everytime I look at Yunho all I can hear is me begging him to claim me, which is insanity, pure and complete insanity,” 

“Wait,” Wooyoung repeats again, hands up and out trying to get you to slow down, “I thought it was casual heat sex,” 

“It was,” You resurface from your own panicked rambling and realize just how shocked the table looks, “what?” 

“You asked Yunho to bite you?” Wooyoung asks, and when you nod he says, “and right now, how do you feel?” 

“Fine,” You knee-jerk answer, “but, a little anxious I guess?” 

“I don’t know how to explain this,” He says, looking to the two alphas for help who both shake their heads. 

“Why do I feel like I’m missing something?” You glance between them. 

“Okay,” Wooyoung claps his hands together, “listen, I have never asked Sannie to give me pups. I have never asked him to bite me, and I have never, ever, gotten all dizzy and sick when he’s not around.” 

“Hey,” San grumbles, “I think she gets it,” 

“I don’t,” You manage. 

“What you had is a lot more than heat sex,” Wooyoung finally settles on, and your stomach drops. 

“Woo,” You shake your head again, “no,” 

“I’m serious!” He insists, “How else do you explain it,” 

“You’re so dramatic,” You roll your eyes and reach for your drink, but find the glass empty, “it was good, really good, but that’s all it was.” 

“He’s not wrong,” Seonghwa interrupts, his deep voice still calm and easy, “sometimes connections are just stronger. Scents match better, you know, everything just clicks. It doesn’t mean Yunho’s your soulmate, but if the pull is there, then there’s something there.” 

You ignore the pull and flash him a weak smile, “Not for them.” 

“Them,” Seonghwa corrects, “both of them?” 

“I know,” You bury your head in your hands again. 

“y/n,” San’s hand lays softly on your forearm, “no matter what happened, Yunho and Mingi are both still the guys from a few days ago. They’re still good men who care about you, even if that’s just as a member of the crew or a friend.” 

“Can I ask a question?” Seonghwa interrupts. 

“Sure,” You sigh, lifting your eyes to his. 

“How do you know they don’t want you too?” 

The question makes you feel awful, and you catch Wooyoung’s sympathetic look in your peripheral vision and nearly lose your composure, but the truth of it is simple. You clear your throat softly and straighten up, “They said so,” 

“Oh,” He nods. 

“And I’m not even sure I want them,” You tack on, “I don’t even really know them,” 

Silence stretches at the table, and San’s eyes flick from yours to Seonghwa.

“Then let’s get another drink,” Seonghwa finally says, “let’s get your mind off it, and let’s have a good night. I know things are awkward at the studio, but don’t let them be. Just focus on the work and yourself and make some friends, and this whole thing will just be a funny story,” 

You nod and sigh, “Okay,” 

“Yeah,” Wooyoung offers, “a month from now no one’s going to remember,” 

It’s around the third bar when someone brings it up again. You’re several more drinks deep, learning so much about the group dynamics that you can’t get while inside the studio walls. Wooyoung is quick to peel back all the layers for you now that you’re actually out with them and not just pushing it off a little longer for the sake of your wallet. 

Leaning across the expanse of the table Seonghwa gets your attention with a drunken tap on your arm and his eyes narrow, “What’s this about you not being able to afford your suppressants?” 

“What?” For a second his words don’t compute. 

“Your meds, your suppressants,” He gestures, a little beer tipping over the edge of his glass, “why aren’t you on them?” 

“I will be soon,” You lean in closer to hear each other over the music, “insurance window,” 

“Ah,” He nods, “so what’s your plan next time?” 

“Next time?” You turn your head so that his mouth is closer to your ear. 

“Next heat,” He clarifies, a little slur in his speech, “while you’re onboarding,” 

Your eyebrows shoot up at his words, “I don’t really know, I guess,” 

“Mm,” He nods. 

“Why?” You scoot your chair closer. 

“I’m assuming you don’t want to,” His voice gets swallowed up by Wooyoung shouting something over the music and you shake your head. 

“What?” You squint, shifting closer, bracing your hand on the table by his glass to steady yourself. 

“Go back to Yunho and Mingi!” He all but shouts, “I’m assuming you don’t want to do that,” 

“Fuck no,” You groan, “I’d rather take care of it myself than deal with feeling like this,” 

“What about me?” He says and you laugh, but you don’t really know why. He clears his throat and shakes his head, sobering himself just a little, “Seriously,” 

“What about you, what?” 

He rolls his eyes, “Help with heat, I help Woo, San and I both do,” 

“Oh,” 

“Only if you need a hand,” He smiles, round eyes shining and kind, “or you know, a knot in this case,” 

You clap a hand over your mouth and can’t help but fall apart into giggles, “You’re serious,” 

He quirks his eyebrow at you, dropping his drink back onto the table so he can draw an X over his chest with two fingers, crossing his heart. 

“What are you doing over there?” Wooyoung interrupts and your head snaps to the side, “Making a blood pact? You’re both trashed,” 

“I am not trashed,” You insist, even though you can feel yourself slipping off the chair you’re on inch by inch. 

“You’re allowed to be,” Wooyoung pushes a shot of soju towards you, “you’re broke and in love,” 

“Wooyoung!” His words strike panic through you, “Seriously, stop that,”

“Alright, alright,” He throws up his hands, “broke and and in lust, whatever,” 

San’s lips curl up in a half smile at his friend’s words. His eyes are closed, and he’s swaying a little from side to side, jerking back to center every now and again when his equilibrium feels too sideways. It’s entirely possible Wooyoung is the most sober one here and that thought makes you burst into laughter. San’s eyes fly open at the sound. 

“I was offering my services,” Seonghwa cuts in, like he had been thinking about what to say that entire time and finally found the words. 

“Your what?” Wooyoung laughs. 

“For her next heat,” He explains, waving his hand like it’s simple addition, “my services,” 

“Seonghwa,” San shakes his head sharply, “stop.”

“It’s not as if I’m with someone,” Seonghwa replies, holding San’s gaze intently, and for a split second it’s obvious there’s some kind of a backstory behind them all or their friendship or just Seonghwa himself that everyone knows and you don’t, but it isn’t the time to ask.

“Yeah,” San says a little gruffly, blinking hard to shake off the alcohol, “well, this still isn’t the time.” 

Wooyoung wraps it up smoothly, “We’re all too drunk for this,” 

“Exactly,” You take a moment of solace in the cup of soju. 

“I mean it though,” Seonghwa tears his eyes away from San and a hand drops onto your knee, “you’re pretty, I’m pretty, just keep it in mind,” 

There’s almost no way he’ll remember this tomorrow, so you let him off the hook with a smile and a hand on the side of his cheek, “Thank you, Hwa,” 

“That’s what f-friends are for,” He hiccups lightly, and then you watch his eyes unfocus as the dizziness floods his vision and he drops his head unceremoniously onto your shoulder, “oh, God, I’m drunk,” 

“There it is,” Wooyoung grins. 

You slip forward as Seonghwa’s weight drops onto you and you brace yourself on the edge of the table, but San swoops in, “Come here, hyung, stop hanging on her,” 

“Hmm?” Seonghwa’s eyes look tired when San gets him off you and over his shoulder, “Sannie?” 

“Yeah,” San softens, “it’s just me,” 

“I think I need to lie down,” Seonghwa murmurs, his head falling onto San’s ready shoulder. 

“I know, hyung, I know,” San softens, and then turns to the table, “can we go?” 

“Yeah,” Wooyoung stumbles as he gets up but then straightens, tucking himself under Seonghwa’s other arm once he gets his feet under him, “y/n, you good?”

You pull yourself up too, knocking back the final shot of soju so it doesn’t go to waste and pulling on your jacket, “Good,” 

In the cool night air outside the bar everything gets dizzier, more watery and hazy, and something in your gut pulls hard. For a brief passing moment you wonder what Yunho and Mingi are doing right now. 

San’s saying something and you shake yourself out of your stupor, “What’s that?” 

“I said, where do you live?” He lets Wooyoung take more of Seonghwa’s weight as he turns his focus to you. 

You give him your address, “I can call an Uber,” 

“I live kind of close,” He nods, “let me take you,” 

“You really don’t have to,” 

“It would make me feel better,” San brushes you off immediately, “we’ve all been drinking, you shouldn’t be alone,” 

“What about him?” You nod towards Seonghwa. 

“I got him,” Wooyoung assures, “we live in the same building.” 

“You sure?” San checks, “We can all go together,”

“It’s the opposite direction,” Wooyoung shakes his head, “and I’m tired, this just makes more sense,”

San nods and then checks on Seonghwa once more, “Make him drink some water, okay?” 

“Yep,” Wooyoung salutes, rolls Seonghwa into an Uber, and then they’re gone. 

Leaving you and San alone on the sidewalk. 

“Let me get a car,” He says, shaking off some of his lingering drunkenness and pulling out his phone. 

Of the three men, you talked to San the least. As the night had stretched on, you found yourself sidled up with Seonghwa or talking across the table animatedly with Wooyoung, but San seemed to give you a little space. He was also the one who commented the least on your recent sexual escapades and now standing in the middle of the street with him and him alone, you have no idea what you’ll talk about. 

You watch as he types into his phone, lets it search, and then his nose crinkles, “Twenty minutes,” 

“Oh,” You push up on your tiptoes to see his screen, “damn,” 

He thinks for a minute and then sighs, “You want to walk a bit? I need to sober up a little anyways,” 

“Sure,” 

“Hungry?” His brows perk up. 

“Definitely,” You smile. 

“There’s places in our direction,” He waves you on, and you fall into lockstep with him as you wind out of the alley and back into the city streets. 

It’s quiet for a moment, and you know one of you has to break the silence, but mercifully he gets there first, “You’re a good dancer, you know,” 

“So are you,” You glance up at him, and he smiles. 

He’s handsome, especially like this with his cheeks tinged pink with the night of drinking and his hair falling in his eyes. He directs you forward across an intersection and then looks down to keep talking, “You pick little things up really quickly, it’s impressive,” 

“I appreciate that,” The alcohol seems to be less pervasive now that you’re out of the loud club and walking some of it off and you sigh, “honestly, I was staying late with Mingi a lot of nights. He was helping me catch up,” 

“Ah,” San nods, “that makes sense,” 

You keep walking. Normally you can get a conversation going without any problems, but with the alcohol and the late night and the fact that you really don’t know San all that well, you’re tongue tied. 

He sighs heavily and looks at you, like he had been weighing whether or not to say something and finally chose to just do it anyway. “Don’t worry about what Seonghwa said,” He manages, “he was drunk, and I’m sure he wouldn’t have wanted to make you uncomfortable.” 

“Oh,” Your stomach knots up, “he didn’t,” 

“Good,” San nods, looking relieved, “he’s a good man, he’s,” San searches for his words for a moment, “not the type to proposition a coworker, that’s not what,” 

“Oh!” It makes sudden sense why San was being so careful, offering to walk you home and trying to keep Seonghwa in check, “No, San, that’s not at all what I thought,” 

“It’s not?” His eyebrow quirks up. 

“No, I mean,” Your gaze falls away from him, “it probably should be, but I know he meant well. Plus, I know you both help Wooyoung,” 

“Well,” San shakes his head, “that’s a little different,” 

“Because you’re all men?” 

He smiles, a little sheepish, “No, I was going to say because we’re old friends, but I guess there’s that too.” 

“Ah,” You turn towards him, “well, really, you shouldn’t worry about me like that. Hwa was just trying to be a good friend, and I’m sure he won’t remember it tomorrow anyways,” 

He sighs, relieved this time, “Good, okay,” 

“Is that what you were worried about?” You ask. 

“Between that and Woo practically interrogating you,” His nose crinkles again, “that part of your life is private, he shouldn’t pry like that.” 

“I would have told him to stop,” You shake your head. 

“I hope so,” He says, “I wouldn’t want you to feel uncomfortable with us after everything you’re dealing with. We like you in the crew,” 

“You do?” 

“Definitely,” He twists to meet your eyes, “you have fire. I saw it in the audition tape,” 

Blush flushes your cheeks, “Thank you,” 

“I’m just being honest,” He smiles. 

You smile back. 

It gets easier the more and more you walk with San. The alcohol slowly dissipates in both your systems, and after a few more blocks the idea of street food seems even more appealing. He refuses to let you pay and you only protest once, albeit weakly, before he gives you a simple shake of the head and takes care of things without another word. 

It’s a thirty minute walk, especially at this meandering pace, but eventually you make it back to your block, and you don’t know what possesses you to turn the conversation back to Yunho and Mingi and everything it means but you do. He’s less shy to discuss it now, especially after enough time getting to know each other and sinking into a conversational rhythm. 

By the time you make it to your apartment walkway, your corn dog is half eaten and your previous anxiety about talking to San is gone entirely. You gesture up to your building, “This is me,” 

“Nice,” He comments, and then he takes a seat on your stoop and looks up at you, expectant.

“What?” You ask at his expression. 

“You weren’t done, come on, tell me the rest,” He leans back against the railing, stretching out his legs. 

“Right,” You remember yourself, flopping down onto the step next to him and running a hand through your hair, “where was I?” 

“Yunho reminding you of your ex,” San prompts you. 

“Ah,” You shake your head, “I mean not really, my ex was an asshole, but… I guess I didn’t know that for a long time. I thought he was nice, I thought he was the right guy.” 

“And Yunho’s nice and the right guy?” He smirks. 

“No, no,” You wave your hands, “fuck, I’m not making sense with this at all.” 

“Can I guess?” San turns his body towards you a little more. 

You nod. 

“When your heat was over,” San’s expression is almost a little apologetic as he addresses it directly, “did you all agree it was just sex?” 

“Yes,” 

“And that you could all be adults about it?” He adds. 

You nod again. 

“And today you were all awkward as hell and avoiding each other?” 

“Basically,” 

“Listen,” San rests his hand on your knee, “I don’t know what your ex did or didn’t do, but they’re not that guy.” 

“I know,” You sigh. 

“But I get it,” San interrupts, “it feels like you had this connection and everything was good and now they’re pretending you don’t exist, and how is that different from any other guy?” 

He has you there. You manage a nod. 

“Well, I don’t know how they feel about you,” He offers, “but I promise you they’re just as embarrassed as you. It’s easy to say you’ll stay friends and that the lines won’t get blurred, but they always, always do.” 

You study him for a moment, at the way he’s speaking so genuinely and it dawns on you, “You speak from experience, I’m guessing?” 

He looks down and away, nodding before he brings his eyes back up to yours, “Yeah,” 

“Woo?” You guess softly. 

After an entire night of watching them lean against each other, touch each other, talk amongst themselves in their little bubble, you’re shocked when his mouth turns up into a sad smile and he shakes his head, “No, Woo and I have figured out how to make this whole thing easy,” 

“Oh,” 

“Wooyoung loves me, but he’s not in love with me.” San clarifies. 

“And you?” You ask softly. 

“He’s my best friend,” San says confidently, “and I’ll never let him be in pain,” 

“But?” You nudge him. 

“It was a long time ago,” He shakes his head and for the first time all night you know he’s told you a lie, but you let it pass. He shakes off the momentary lapse and continues, “but I know how you’re feeling.” 

“Then how do I make it right?” You ask him. 

“Sometimes you can’t,” He says honestly, “sometimes one person just feels so much more than the other, and you try to make it work until you bend so much for them you break.” 

“I know what Woo said,” You shake your head, “but I’m not in love with them. I’m not.” 

“I trust you,” San nods, “you know yourself better than Youngie.” 

“It’s just this thing inside me,” You confess, and maybe it’s the alcohol or the lateness of the hour but you feel safer here on your stoop with him than you have in a long, long time, so you keep confessing. “I wish sometimes so much that I could just be a beta, that I could forget all about this and just know for sure. I’ve… never known anything for real and how am I supposed to trust anything I feel if my body just decides for me.” 

He’s quiet for a moment, but then he says, “Being an omega is a beautiful thing,” 

“Don’t,” You shake your head sharply, “I’ve heard that one all my life,” 

“It is,” He insists, “all of it’s beautiful. Every part and piece of us is, alpha, beta, omega, all of it.” 

“San, that’s not,” 

“I know what you meant,” San says softly, sliding his hand into yours and giving you a squeeze, “and it would be easier to be a beta, and to not have to wonder every time. Does the person you like feel right because you like them or because something about them is a good biological match?” 

“Exactly,” 

“Believe me,” He squeezes you again, “I get it.” 

Tears prickle in your eyes and you swallow hard to clear them, “Then how do I make this work? How do I go back to the studio and put this behind me?” 

“Is that what you want?” He checks, thumb stroking along the back of your hand. 

“Yes,” You sigh, “it doesn’t even matter how I feel or don’t feel, I can’t take that risk here,” 

“The work is more important,” He finishes for you. 

“Yes.” 

“Then don’t let them in again,” San says simply, “not like before. Be friends, but keep things professional. Get some distance from this whole thing,” 

“I have a feeling this is not the advice Woo would be giving me,” You smile. 

“No,” San laughs, “Wooyoung would tell you to open yourself up to the great mystery of being loved or something,” 

“And you’re not a romantic,” You smirk. 

“No, no,” He shakes his head, “I am, but being a romantic doesn’t mean you have to let people hurt you. I’ve seen Woo get his heart broken a dozen times now, and he keeps trying. He’s the strongest person I know, and I love him for it, but it’s not the only way.” 

“So what he said at the bar,” You tuck your unfinished food into the little bag and leave it to the side, “what he said about my heat?” 

“I mean,” He shrugs, “y/n, this isn’t your first time. Don’t listen to him,” 

“But Seonghwa,” You remember the way Seonghwa agreed, like a scent match was the stars aligning. 

“Fuck them both,” San shakes his head, “just because you had a connection with them doesn’t mean they’re the only people you can connect with.” 

Your eyes fill with tears again and he shakes his head when he sees your hazy eyes, brushing your jaw softly with his fingers. You swallow hard and sigh, breath hitching in your chest, “You know what’s funny about this?” 

“Hmm?” He brushes your jaw again. 

“I don’t even want to date right now, I just,” You shrug lightly, “I want to work. I want to have friends. I want to go out and meet people or stay in if I feel like it. I don’t want to sit on the couch pining or walk on eggshells at the studio,” 

“y/n,” San steadies you, his voice low and calm, “listen to me, okay?” 

“Okay,” You murmur. 

“You have work to do, so focus on it. You have friends, including me, and Woo, and Seonghwa, okay? You come out with us… or don’t,” He smiles and squeezes your hand, “and the studio will feel weird for a little while, but trust yourself, it will fade.” 

“It will,” You nod, “you’re right,” 

He nods, holding your gaze a little longer until he gives you one more squeeze. San shifts back to give you a little space, his hands leaving you and clasping together to hang between his legs. He smiles, “Do you feel any better?” 

“Yeah,” You run your hands through your hair and let out a long, tired exhale. 

“Sobered up?” He checks. 

“Mostly,” You nod, checking your watch, “but it’s so late I’m still going to be feeling it tomorrow,” 

“Mm,” He nods, “we aren’t starting until eleven though,” 

“True,” 

The night is drawing to a close, you can feel it. You don’t really want to be alone with your thoughts again, but you’re also so tired you think you might drop on the spot, so you start to pull away and hope that you’ll be able to fall asleep the minute you hit the pillows. 

He pushes himself up to stand and offers you a hand to help you to your feet, “Should I walk you up?” 

You shake your head, “I got it,” 

“I’ll wait until you get in,” He smiles and nods. 

You make it two steps up before you turn back to him, “Thank you, San,” you tell him, “for everything tonight, really,” 

He smiles wider, his eyes crinkling up and he nods again, “Don’t thank me, just remember what I said.” 

“I will,” 

“And y/n,” He calls after you as you start back up the path, “sleep well,” 

“You too, Sannie,” You give him one last look before you push open your apartment door and start up the steps. He doesn’t budge, making sure you’re in the door before he pulls out his phone and starts his short walk home. 

Coming home this time doesn’t hurt the same. 

You hope for more of the same tomorrow. 

You hope every day that it fades away, little by little. 

[luveline]

yess would love to see some roan content

yk roans imaginary (i mean totally real) dalmation, maybe one day reader, eddie and roan are walking around at the park or something and she see a dalmation and just wants to run up and pet the dog. i just think it’d be a cute little moment

thank you for your request! a summer afternoon for the munson family <3 eddie and roan ♥︎ fem!reader 1.3k

You have Eddie's hand in one hand, Roan's in the other. It's a rare occasion that you get to be the one in the middle. Roan usually insists on it so that she can be swung over the sidewalk curbs. You aren't sure how you've gotten to be the lucky one, but you won't look a gift horse in the face. 

"I'm gon-da climb to the top of the climbing tower–" 

"'Gon-da'," Eddie whispers in your ear, "what is she, five?" 

She is very much five. 

"How dare you," you say. 

He laughs evilly and then remembers he has to be a dad as well as an idiot. "Roan, if you get stuck at the top again I can't come and get you, I'm a scaredy-cat." 

"I'll save you, princess," you say. 

Roan pulls away from your hand. "Thank you!" she calls, sprinting across a stretch of brilliant green grass. The field surrounding the playground is thick and lush and expansive. A group of teenagers throw a Frisbee at one end, while a great golden labrador chases a tennis ball at the other. You walk past babies and the elderly, all manner of Hawkins residents out in swing to enjoy the amazing summer weather. 

"Roan! Stay close!" Eddie shouts. 

She slows to a run. You and Eddie fast walk to keep pace, interlocked fingers swinging with every step.

"It's so nice out today, sure you aren't gonna melt into a leather puddle?" you tease. 

"I reject summer," Eddie says, in all black. 

You laugh. It's the kind of laugh you can only make when it's warm and you're content, the sound rumbly and indulgent. Since meeting Eddie, pretty much ever one of your laughs sound this way when the weather's nice. He smiles at you and bumps his shoulder into yours, his eyebrows, hidden by his bangs, making a rare appearance as he squints against the sun. 

Roan thankfully stops before she gets to the playground, a mass of hot plastic on wood chips that you can smell half a mile away. She rocks back and forth on her heels, feet covered by small white sneakers. Eddie had originally dressed her in a sweet pink dress with flowers on the chest, but you'd peeped up to say she should probably wear pants if she's gonna be climbing things. He'd nodded, said, "Right! Right, what would I do without you, baby?" 

It felt nice to get to amend what she wears, and his easy acceptance of your suggestion. 

"Go on, babe!" he calls. "We're gonna stay right here on the grass and watch you!" 

Roan beams and races to the climbing tower, a plastic and rope contraption that scares the fuck out of you. It's designed to catch a child if they fall, ropes intermingling between layers and reaching a narrow point at the top. You worry she'll fall backwards, but what can you do to stop her? She wants to tackle it, you want her to be brave and have fun, and you're a little unsure if you'd even be allowed to say No, you can't go on there. 

You and Eddie lay out a blanket and sit under the summer heat. He admits defeat and peels out of his thick jacket, exposing the amazing lengths of his arms. They're almost enough to drag your gaze from his climbing daughter. 

"She's gonna be fine," he says. 

"I know." You put your hand on his thigh. "What if she isn't, though?" 

"She will be. They wouldn't build that thing if kids weren't meant to climb it. I've climbed it." 

"You've climbed it?" 

He leans back, lips taking to an open-mouthed smile. "You don't believe me?" 

"How old were you?" 

"Probably not as young as Ro, but– seven? Eight?" 

"Eddie, that's fifteen years ago. You're telling me she's climbing ten feet on a climbing frame that's fifteen years old?" You groan and close your eyes. "You better watch her. I'm gonna have a heart attack."

Eddie covers your hand with his, chuckling. "Alright, sweetheart. I'll watch her." 

You squeeze your eyes closed but take little glances when you can manage it. The higher she gets the worse you feel, anxiety churning your guts. You know she won't fall but your body doesn't. A cold sweat pricks your neck despite the sunshine beating down. 

Eddie plays with your fingers absentmindedly. 

"I think your ring finger is my favourite. And not because of what you're thinking," he says nonchalantly, "but it's cute. You have a little tiny mark, what is that?" 

"Maybe a papercut scar?" you ask. "Wait! Aren't you watching Roan?"

"I am, but I can do both. Plus, even if she falls, what'm I gonna do? The net will catch her, sweetheart, I promise." 

He places his thumb on either side of your finger and presses down to the tip. It's a strange gesture, thoughtless, and your anxiety numbs. You watch Roan climb to another layer. She looks about as nervous as you feel, taking careful steps, pulling herself up with heaving motions. 

Eddie pulls the back of your hand to his mouth and kisses it quickly. "Hey, she's almost at the top."

Roan climbs to the summit. You tilt your head toward Eddie's and wait for her to get down, only she doesn't, climbing to the other side with tense movements. Her front comes into view, and when she spots you and Eddie looking there's a huge smile on her face.

"Look, I'm at the top!" she shouts proudly. 

"You are! You're so fast, and so tall!" Eddie waves at her. 

She waves back. 

"Oh, holy shit, I'm gonna throw up," you say. "I'm gonna go get her down." 

You stand up and almost fall to your knees when Roan shouts, "Oh my god! Oh my god!" 

You don't care who's watching or listening to you, you shout, "What, baby?" 

"A damnation!" 

You get to the bottom of the tower in record time. "Are you stuck?" 

She wags her head. Her every movement makes the tower ropes shake. "Y/N, it's a damnation, look!" she says, pointing behind you. 

You reluctantly turn, heart in your throat, and are greeted by the sight of a full grown dalmatian, white with black spots. You're head rushes. 

Eddie comes to meet you with the blanket and tote bag hastily thrown over his arm. Roan flies down the tower in record time, stops to hug your leg, and then looks up at Eddie and says, "Can I hug it? Please? Please, can I go pet the dog?" 

Eddie takes her hand. "Let's go ask, baby." 

They fast walk to the dalmation before the owner can walk too far away and ask to pet the dog. The dalmation's name is Sammy, and he loves kisses and hugs. He links stripes up Roan's face until she's roaring with giggles, her arms around his skinny neck. 

"Good puppy!" she says, squealing when Sammy licks her nose.

"How's your heart?" Eddie asks. 

"Definitely feeling better." You put his hand against your chest so he can feel the slowed pulse. 

He slides it to your shoulder, throwing the other behind so he can hug you and tug you in for a forehead kiss at the same time. 

"You're pretty when you worry," he says. 

Roan giggles some more, cotton candy sweet. "Daddy, we need a Sammy, please please please!" 

A little bit of his pleased, carefree attitude dissipates. 

"Baby, where would we put him?" 

"He could sleep in my bed!" She rubs Sammy behind the ears. "Do you have a brother, mister Sammy?" 

You tip your head to his ear. "She wants a puppy? What is she, five?" 

Roan beams at you both. Mister Sammy licks a gross line of spit from her chin to her temple.