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incognit0slut · 7 months

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Tempting the Cowboy

Summary: The team has been trying to bring Spencer back to the BAU after he hung up his badge to live on his ranch peacefully. It’s a good thing you’ll do whatever it takes to persuade him, even if the rugged cowboy wants to bend you over in the barn.

warnings: (MDNI, 18+) softdom spence, nipple play, handjob, fingering, female and male oral, semi-public sex

word count: 6k (i had too much fun, okay?)

a/n: This is such a random plot. Cowboy spence seemed so impossible, but then again, so did prison reid and look what happened.

Never in a million years would you ever have thought that a certified genius with an IQ of 187, after fifteen years of dedicated service to the FBI, would change career paths and settle down in the countryside. Yet here you were, driving to the middle of nowhere, trying to find that man.

The GPS led you down dusty backroads, past fields of golden wheat and weathered barns until finally, you arrived at his ranch. The scent of hay and the distant sound of cattle filled the air as you stepped out of the car and you couldn't help but feel out of place.

Your usual black pants and fitted blouse seemed like a striking contrast to your surroundings, especially with the sleek boots on your feet. Adjusting your shirt, you finally approached the farmhouse, the gravel crunch beneath your feet echoed with every step you took.

A group of men caught your eyes as they emerged from a weathered barn at the end of the road, and you found yourself approaching them instead. Clearing your throat, you called out to them.

"Excuse me, gentlemen," you began, "I'm looking for Spencer Reid. Is he around?"

The men exchanged knowing glances before one of them, a weathered cowboy with a straw hat shading his face, spoke up.

"You must be lookin' for the doc," he said, nodding towards the stable. "He's over there tendin' to the horses. You can't miss 'im."

With a grateful nod, you followed their directions. Nerves fluttered in your stomach as you walked into the stable, unsure of what to expect from the man who had once been your colleague but now seemed like a stranger in this unfamiliar setting.

As you pushed open the creaking door, the scent of leather and hay washed over you. Inside, you finally spotted him, his back turned as he tended to a horse in the corner of the room. His familiar profile was a stark contrast to the rugged surroundings, and for a moment, it felt surreal to see him in this new role.

Gone were the suits or knitted cardigans; instead, he was clad in well-worn denim and leather that gave him a distinctly different, yet undeniably attractive appearance. His sleeves were rolled up, showcasing the definition in his arms and a cowboy hat was perched on his head, its brim casting a shadow over his features, while his tousled hair peeked out from beneath it.

It was a side of him you had never seen before—one that seemed more at peace, more connected to the land than the city. And as you watched him work, the soft murmur of his voice filling the room as he spoke soothingly to the horse he was gently brushing, you couldn't help but feel a tinge of guilt knowing you were going to ruin his peace.

As if sensing another presence in the room, he suddenly turned his head before his gaze fell on you. A genuine smile curled at the corner of your lips as you approached him. "Howdy, cowboy."

A hint of surprise flashed in his eyes as he straightened himself, which was quickly replaced with realization at your sudden visit.

"I was wondering when they'd send you here," he remarked, his tone a mixture of amusement and resignation. You returned his smile, the tension in your shoulders easing slightly at his familiar demeanor.

"I guess today is your lucky day." Your eyes scanned the rustic surroundings of his ranch, taking in the simplicity of his new life. "Well, this is quite the change of scenery."

He chuckled softly, a hint of pride in his tone as he gestured around the farmhouse. "It's definitely a far cry from the city," he admitted. "But it suits me."

"It does seem like you've found your place here. It's... different, but in a good way."

Spencer's smile widened at your words "It is different, and I like it here," he agreed. "Which is why I'm going to say no to whatever reason you're here."

You raised an eyebrow. "I haven't even said anything."

"You didn't have to, everyone else has already said their piece." He turned and focused his attention back on his horse. "And the answer is still no."

You silently studied him as he finished his task. He was right; your other teammates had already been here before you, trying to coax him back to the BAU. But you couldn't help but feel a sense of determination rise within you. Spencer Reid might be a stubborn cowboy now, but you knew deep down that his brilliant mind belonged with the team.

But knowing no one else could crack his stubbornness, you knew you needed a different approach and the only way you could think of was to reel him in with his current interest. "He's beautiful," you acknowledged, nodding towards the horse he was working on. "What's his name?"

"She's beautiful," he corrected. "And her name is Mildred."

The name didn't sound foreign to you. "You must really have something sentimental with that name. Didn't you name one of your mugs Mildred?"

He tipped his head back. "You remembered?"

"Of course, I do," you replied with a grin. "I remember a lot about you, even if we didn't have much time getting to know each other."

The memories of your time at the BAU flooded back. The way you joined the team right before Spencer had decided to take a break, which had turned out to be more permanent than anyone had anticipated. Although it was hard to forget a guy like him. You remembered when your eyes first fell on him and how your heart fluttered at his awkward yet charming smile.

There was something about him, something magnetic and intriguing that drew you in from the very beginning. It was a pity he had to leave shortly after you joined the team because you swore your admiration wasn't one-sided, but with Spencer gone, any hope of exploring those feelings had faded away.

As you stood before him now, you couldn't help but study how different he was yet still managed to look the same. The rugged cowboy attire he now wore seemed worlds away from the suit and tie he had once donned as a profiler, yet there was a familiarity to his features that remained unchanged.

But one thing was for sure, despite the time and distance of not seeing him, you were still attracted to Spencer Reid.

"I remember a lot about you too."

You laughed. "That's because you have an eidetic memory." Spencer simply flashed you a sheepish grin, his eyes crinkling at the corners. You slowly took a step forward towards him. "Can I touch her?"

He nodded, gesturing towards Mildred. "Go ahead. She's quite friendly."

You approached the horse cautiously, extending your hand to stroke her mane gently. Mildred nuzzled against your palm, her warm breath tickling your skin. A sense of calm washed over you as you felt the gentle rhythm of her breathing.

Spencer watched you with a soft smile, his gaze warm and reassuring. "She likes you," he remarked, his voice low and soothing.

You smiled back. "I like her too," you replied, your fingers trailing along Mildred's soft fur. Then your eyes glanced over to him and the gears in your head started to move. You needed to act as stealthy as possible. "So... how fast can horses go? In general?"

His smile widened at your question. "Well, it depends on various factors like breed, training, and terrain," he began, falling into his familiar role as an educator. "On average, horses can reach speeds of around 25 to 30 miles per hour, but some breeds can go even faster, reaching speeds of up to 40 miles per hour."

You nodded, absorbing the information as you continued stroking Mildred's fur while keeping your true intentions hidden behind a facade of innocent curiosity. "Are mammals usually that fast?"

"Actually, yes," he replied. "While horses are known for their impressive speed, they're not the only mammals capable of reaching high velocities."

"...how about bulls?"

Spencer raised an eyebrow, his curiosity piqued by your sudden interest in bulls. "Bulls?" he echoed, studying you intently.

You met his gaze, trying to appear nonchalant. "Yeah, bulls."

He continued to scrutinize you, his sharp intellect picking up on your evasive behavior. Spencer may not work as a profiler anymore, but he could tell when someone had ulterior motives.

"Alright, what is it?" he finally asked, crossing his arms.

You sighed, trying not to focus on the way his arms flexed at the movement, and took another step towards him. If you were going to convince him to return to the BAU, you needed to be honest with him. "Well, you see, the current case we're working on is... it's a bit unusual."

Spencer's curiosity was piqued, his interest evident in how he leaned in slightly, waiting for you to continue.

"Three victims were found dead under suspicious circumstances," you explained, choosing your words carefully. "The strange part is, all three victims were found with injuries consistent with being trampled by bulls."

"Trampled by bulls?" he repeated, disbelief coloring his voice.

"It sounds bizarre, I know. There have been reports of aggressive behavior from a nearby ranch, and the local authorities suspect that the deaths may be connected to the bulls on the property. But the thing is, the autopsies showed that it might not even be caused by any type of animal."

"And you want me to help with the investigation," he summarized.

"We could certainly use your help," you admitted, hoping that he would see the significance of his involvement.

Spencer fell silent for a moment, his gaze distant as he considered your words. Then, without saying another word, he turned on his heels and began to walk towards another part of the stable, a hidden corner shrouded in shadows. Your heart sank as you watched him move away.

"I don't think I'm the person you should be looking for."

You followed him, determined not to let him slip away without a fight. "You're exactly the person we should be looking for! With that smart brain of yours and your knowledge of farm animals, we could profile the Unsub in no time."

His steps faltered momentarily as your words reached him, but he didn't turn back to face you. Instead, he continued walking, his silhouette fading into the shadows of the stable.

"I appreciate the sentiment," he called back over his shoulder, his voice tinged with resignation, "But I'm not sure I'm the right fit for this anymore."

"Reid," you called after him, quickening your pace to catch up. "Please, just hear me out."

"Y/n," he warned dangerously low. The way he spoke your name affected you more than you'd like to admit. You cautiously took a step forward.

"Do you know how long it took me to do a geographical profile of the crime scenes? Or how Alvez spent two nights going through stacks of documents when you would've finished it in like an hour?" You let out a sigh. "It's so different without you, we miss you."

He slightly faltered at your words again but remained quiet, so you tried again.

"We could really use your help, Spence, at least on this case. The team needs you." You watched him try to do some other task as if trying to ignore you. "I need you."

He remained silent for a moment longer, the only sound the soft shuffle of his boots against the stable floor. Then, slowly, he turned to face you, and there was a subtle shift in his expression, a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes.

"...you need me?"

You faltered for a moment, taken aback by his unexpected question. The room seemed to shrink around you, the walls closing in as you became hyper-aware of the proximity between the two of you. Your gaze involuntarily flickered over every detail of his face, taking in the curve of his stubble jaw, the flecks of gold in his brown eyes, and the lines etched on his brow.

You also noticed his lips. Those damn kissable lips, pressed together in a thin line as he waited for your response. You found yourself inexplicably drawn to them, a surge of desire coursing through you at the mere thought of what it would feel like to press your own against them.

Shaking yourself from your inappropriate thoughts, you forced your gaze back to his eyes, feeling your cheeks flush with embarrassment at where your mind had wandered. You swallowed hard, feeling a lump form in your throat.

"Yes," you finally replied, your voice barely above a whisper. "I-I need you."

As the words left your lips, a heavy silence fell upon the room. You could feel his eyes on you, his gaze intense and searching, as if he were trying to interpret the depth of your confession. For a moment, neither of you spoke, and you could hear the sound of your heartbeat echoing in your ears, the rhythm erratic and unsteady.

"And you missed me?"

You held his gaze. While your words might not have been an outright confession, it wasn't exactly a lie, and there was no reason to deny the truth.

"I missed you," you admitted, your voice sounding more breathless than you intended. He smiled. Then, slowly, he reached out, his fingers gently brushing against your cheek. His touch sent a shiver down your spine, the warmth of it searing through you like a flame.

"Fine, I'll help you," he whispered, his voice barely audible in the stillness of the room. "On one condition."

Your heart skipped a beat, anticipation coursing through your veins as you waited for him to continue. His gaze held yours, unwavering and intense. You could feel the weight of his scrutiny, from your wide eyes to the slope of your nose, before lingering on your lips. For a moment, there was silence, broken only by the sound of your shallow breaths. Then he finally spoke.

"Be honest with me," he responded, his fingers tracing a gentle path along your jawline, "Do you need my help with the case or do you need me for something else?"

You met his gaze, searching for the right words to express the truth of your intentions. "Both," you admitted after a pause, your voice barely above a whisper. "I need your help with the case, but I also... need you."

A satisfied smile curled on his lips as he gently cupped your cheek, pulling you closer. But just as you thought he would close the distance between your lips, he paused, his warm breath teasing against your skin. His next question hung in the air between you, a challenge and an invitation wrapped into one.

"Tell me what you need me for then."

Your breath caught in your throat as his lips hovered tantalizingly close to yours. "I-I need you to kiss me," you breathed, your voice barely above a whisper, your words tinged with urgency and desire. "Please."

His gaze darkened. "I never took you as one to beg," he remarked, his voice laced with a hint of amusement. "But I must admit, I quite like it."

Then slowly, almost hesitantly, he closed the remaining distance between you, his lips brushing against yours in a feather-light touch. You could still feel the smile playing on his lips, but only briefly before he moved them slowly, capturing every curve of your soft lips.

He swiped his tongue along your bottom lip, holding your jaw in place. His hand cradled your face, holding you gently but firmly, while his other hand explored your body. It trailed down your back, sending shivers of anticipation coursing through you, before settling on your hip. You gasped at the sudden contact and he seized the opportunity to deepen the kiss, his tongue delving deeper.

With a boldness that surprised even yourself, you wrapped your hands around his neck, pulling him closer. Your fingers tangled in his hair, knocking off his hat onto the floor before tugging lightly at the roots, eliciting a low moan from him that vibrated against your lips.

What had started as gently molding your lips together turned into a passionate dance of tongues, leaving you moaning and breathless. He slowly pulled away, his eyes slamming shut as his forehead met yours, both of you gasping for air while you tried to regain your composure. His breath mingled with yours, a heady mix of desire and need, as he spoke in a ragged voice.

"You," he gasped, his words laced with raw intensity, "Taste better than I imagined."

Your head was spinning. How could he consume you with just a kiss? You had dreamed of this moment, of being close to him, but you never imagined it would affect you as deeply as it did now.

"Do you even realize," He pressed on, his voice low with pent-up longing. "How much I've wanted to do this?"

Your head was swimming in a haze of desire as his lips trailed along your jawline, sending shivers down your spine. "Yeah?" you breathed out, barely able to form coherent thoughts.

He nodded against your neck. "Ever since I saw you."

"Wh-Why didn't you say anything?" you managed to stammer out, the words barely audible amidst the dizzying sensation of his lips on your skin.

"Wasn't sure you felt the same way."

You took a moment to process his words, the warmth of his breath against your skin adding to the whirlwind of sensations coursing through you. "You should've said something, it would make this whole convincing you a lot easier."

He paused, his lips leaving a trail of soft kisses along your neck. "I don't know," he finally murmured. "I think I need a little more persuading."

His words sent a jolt of desire coursing through you, igniting a fire that burned hotter with each passing moment. You swallowed hard, trying to gather your thoughts amidst the intoxicating sensation of his lips on your skin.

"I can persuade you in other ways."

Spencer lifted his head, his gaze meeting yours. "Then show me," he breathed, his voice thick with desire.

There was no room for hesitation. You leaned in, capturing his lips with yours in a desperate, passionate kiss, fully aware of the risk of being caught, but his mouth on your body felt too good to care. It wasn't like you hadn't fantasized about this exact moment, about the feel of his mouth on your body, the way his hands would explore every inch of you with a hunger that mirrored your own.

His hands found your hips, pushing you to the nearest wall before his fingers fumbled with the buttons on your blouse. It was clear you both decided that the risk was well worth the wait.

"May I?" He asked, his fingers still working on your front buttons.

You laughed amusedly. "You already are."

His response was a chuckle of his own before he buried his head in your neck again. The opening in the front of your shirt chilled your body, sending goosebumps all along your skin as his hands caressed over your lacy, black bra covering your breasts, thumbing your hardened nipples.

He leaned further down, trailing his lips over your cleavage, before sucking softly on the spot. The sensation made you gasp, knowing well enough that there would be marks left behind, but you didn't care. Wanting to give more to him, you reached out between your bodies and pulled down your bra, granting him more access to your skin.

His eyes drank in the sight before him hungrily. He gently rubbed against the small pebbles on your chest, wetting his lips as he did, eyes completely trained on them now. Without warning he surged forward, tongue darting out to lick a long, flat stripe against one of your nipples. You let out a surprised moan at the action, fingers tugging at his hair tightly and head tilting back before snapping down to look at him.

A choked moan left your lips as he continued sucking, licking, twirling his tongue around it while playing with the other with his hand. "Spence..." you whined, your voice sounding clear in the room.

"Shh," he mumbled against your skin. "Keep your voice down."

You nodded helplessly as he released your nipple before wrapping his lips around the other one, giving the same attention. He repeated the motion, rolling your wet nipple under his calloused palm, having you arch your back and push your chest into his face. He didn't have to be told twice, immediately giving it a hard suck while pinching the other one.

The sensation traveled along your body before it lowered between your thighs, forming an ache the second his hand trailed down your stomach. His fingers finally found the hem of your pants, before dipping underneath the material, slipping right underneath your panties. Your breath hitched when two of his long fingers slide between your folds, spreading your slick before finding its rightful place on your clit.

"You're so wet," he whispered in a daze, trailing his lips back up your collarbone. He couldn't believe how drenched you already were. "All this for me?"

You nodded, gasping when he stroked up and down your folds, coating his fingers with your arousal. Your hips buckled against his touch and he didn't hesitate when he started rubbing your clit, feeling your body writhe under him. A sudden pressure of his fingers sent pleasure shooting through you, and your head fell back to the wall, mouth agape, face flushed.

But before you could relish the pleasure, he suddenly pulled his hand out of your pants before tugging you, urging you to follow him. As he led you deeper into the stable, your heart raced with anticipation. You followed him silently, feeling a rush of excitement as he pulled you behind the stacks of hay, sheltering the two of you from prying eyes.

The rustling of the hay beneath you echoed in the room as he pulled you closer, his touch igniting a fire within you as you pressed your hands on his chest. With trembling hands, you began to undo the buttons of his shirt, and his gaze never left yours, his breath coming in shallow gasps.

As your fingertips brushed along his skin, you felt the warmth radiating from his body, his chest rising and falling with each breath. He wasn't muscular in the conventional sense, but there was a lean strength to him that was undeniably attractive. Your fingers continued their journey downward, skimming lightly over the softness of his stomach before teasing along the line of hair that trailed further down.

Your hands found their way to the buckle of his belt, fingers deftly working to undo it. He made no move to stop you as his gaze remained fixed on you. There was a hunger in his eyes, urging you for more, yet he remained patient, allowing you to take the lead. And then you tugged down his denim, not much than an inch but enough for you to pull his cock out.

He was warm and achingly hard, and a low, guttural sound escaped his lips as his hips bucked into your palm. His eyes fluttered closed momentarily, a shudder passing through him as he surrendered to the sensation. You looked up at him through your lashes, the corner of your lips quirked up in a smirk.

"Shh," you whispered, echoing his words. "Keep your voice down."

He chuckled softly, eyes meeting yours. "You're enjoying this, aren't you?"

"Not as much as you are."

You proved your point by tugging his cock harder, pumping up and down his length. His head fell back, his breath coming out in ragged gasps as he fought to stifle his moans. You couldn't help but find it endearing, the way he struggled to keep quiet, his brows creasing in concentration. It was a pity, really, because you liked hearing the raw, unfiltered sounds of his pleasure.

You swiped your thumb along the tip of his cock, gathering the slickness before rubbing it along his length. His head snapped down to look between you, his eyes taking in the way you quickened your pace, pumping him in your hand. A sense of urgency overwhelmed him the moment your tongue darted out to wet your bottom lip, and he leaned in, shoving his own tongue into your mouth.

The way your fingers gripped his cock had him moaning into the kiss which you happily accepted. As he felt that familiar knot tightening in his stomach, he knew he had to act quickly. With a gasp, he pulled away from the kiss, his chest heaving with ragged breaths as he reached between you to halt your movements. With a sense of urgency, he shrugged off his shirt and laid it carefully on the stack of hay behind you.

"Turn around," was all he said as he pushed down his pants to uncover himself, leaving you empty for the moment.

You obliged, turning while gripping the hem of your pants and slipping them down your legs. Without hesitation, you pushed your panties down before kicking them off, giving him the perfect view of your soaked slit. It didn't take long for him to drop onto the floor, his hands running along the back of your thighs.

"Look at you." He leaned closer, his breath brushing your damp skin. "Aren't you a pretty little thing?"

You leaned forward and arched your back at his words, earning a deep, low sound of approval from him. One of his hands gripped your ass, slowly kneading your supple skin as his other hand grabbed onto your right leg, hiking it over the stack of hay. He had a better view of your wetness in this position, and you bit down your lips when you felt his fingers brush over your entrance.

A finger slipped inside you, then two, and when he started to pump them in and out of your tight walls, you pressed yourself further onto the stack of hay underneath you, trying to hold yourself back from making too much noise. Your arousal dripped from your core to coat his fingers and he was mesmerized by how eager your body was for him, how your hips rocked back against his hand.

But you needed more. His touch, his warmth, his presence—it wasn't enough. Your body ached for him, every nerve alive with desire.

"Please..." you breathlessly begged him, wanting to feel him inside of you, wanting him to rid your body of the tension, of the ache between your legs. Your jaw slacked open when you felt his mouth press against your clit before giving a slight suck.

"Tell me what you need," he ordered, breath deep and raspy and strained against your wet skin. He sucked onto your aching nub once again as his fingers continued to pump in and out of you. "And I'll give it to you."

"Please," you gasped, overwhelmed with the sudden force of his fingers and tongue between your legs and the pleasure that coursed through your body. "I w-want to f-feel you."

He pulled his fingers from within you, but his mouth was still exploring the wetness of your skin. His eager tongue worked wonders against your pussy, drawing out every second of pleasure as your hips rolled against his mouth. A whimper slipped from your lips as his tongue worked on your clit faster and you found yourself unable to contain yourself any longer.

"S-Spence..." You whined, not caring how desperate you sounded. All that mattered was your need for him. "Please..."

He placed a kiss on your swollen clit. "Be specific, baby, tell me what you need."

His endearment sent shivers down your spine, and you felt yourself spiraling further. Without hesitation, you begged shamelessly, "I-I want to feel y-your cock."

A low groan fell through his lips as he got off the floor, positioning himself behind you. "Say more words like that and I may lose the hint of self-control I have."

"I just—I just need you to fuck me," you didn't recognize the choke in your voice when you whined again.

He had no intention of protesting as he slipped between your legs, finally allowing you to feel just how hard you made him. For a moment, he pushed his hips toward you, grinding his cock against your folds, feeling your arousal soak his flesh.

"Is this what you wanted?" His hand gripped his cock to ease the tip over your entrance, pushing into you slowly, gasping when your walls clenched around him eagerly.

"Fuck, yes," was all you could manage to whimper, eyes screwing shut as he filled you up. And when you could barely stand anymore, becoming a quivering mess beneath him, he finally thrust deeper, pushing his hips against your body, earning a gasp with your mouth falling open.

"Oh my god." You could barely speak, barely form words, or even think as he pressed a hand to on your lower back, holding you in place as he dragged his cock out of you, only to ram himself back inside.

"Harder," you begged him, so breathless once again, "F-Faster."

He listened to you; he listened to the way your body moved against him, the way your walls tightened around his length. The way you stifled a moan and curse and huff anytime he thrust just right to have you pushing your hips back to him, your body trembling, shaking, and your legs nearly giving out because the pleasure became too much to bear.

"D-Don't stop." You had no shame in begging him. Not when he could make you feel so good, not when he was holding onto your hips as he continued to thrust into your dripping cunt.

"That's it," he encouraged, hips beginning to fall into a steady rhythm. "Tell me how good it feels. Beg me not to stop."

"So-so good," you babbled. "Don't—don't fucking stop."

He obliged your words by pushing apart your legs even further. Your face twisted in pleasure, so sensitive and overwhelmed as his hips smacked against your ass and he thrust himself harder into you. Sweat began to bead against his forehead once he pumped his cock into you harder, faster, earning every little whimper, even the ones you lacked the strength to release.

Thoughts of getting caught, of knowing anyone could walk in when he was buried deep inside you, left both of your minds. Neither of you cared when you were so wrapped up in one another. Not when you hiked your leg higher, allowing his cock to hit the spot that had you quivering in his hold when he slammed into you again.

Then he suddenly released his grip on your hips, slipping a hand between the two of you to press his fingers to your clit. The sudden increase in pleasure had you gasping in pure bliss. The room began to spin, air rushing to your head and the harder he fucked you, the deeper he thrust, and the faster his fingers rubbed against your clit, you knew you wouldn't be able to hold your sanity any longer.

He sensed your desperation in the way you gasped his name over and over again, and he thrust into you with more force than before. You tightened around him, squeezing him so damn hard he was tempted to lose all control right then, but he persisted in bringing your pleasure first. The sloppy sounds of your arousal coating his flesh filled the room, and with one, final thrust, you gasped before the pleasure finally consumed you.

He abruptly released your clit as he took hold of your hips again, keeping you in place while ruthlessly thrusting in and out through your bliss. His fingers pressed harder, drawing out every breathless moan, every strained whimper, every gasp of his name until your body grew too weak.

But he was far from done, slowing his hips to hit deep within your walls with aggressive thrusts, bringing his own high closer and closer as you whined from the overwhelming sensation, too sensitive, too far gone to handle much more, shuddering with every push of his cock within you.

"Where—" he groaned, your slick cunt too much for him, your juices drenching along his pelvis. "I'm close—"

You managed to snap your head over your shoulders. "Pull out, pull out."

You watched through fluttering lids as he gripped himself in his hand, and with trembling legs, you kneeled before him, gripped his cock in your hand, and took him fully in your mouth. He gritted his teeth at the sensation, sucking a breath in through his teeth as he felt your tongue dragging along his length.

You pushed further, hollowing your cheeks as you continued to swallow him down until the tip of his cock finally reached the back of your throat, nose pressed against his pelvis. He tipped his head back as you started to suck him, gagging around him when you felt him thrust his hips into you.

His eyes flicked down again at the sound only to find you looking up at him through your lashes. Spencer sucked in a sharp breath, before cradling your soft cheeks in both his large hands, and began thrusting his cock in and out of your mouth. Obscene noises filled the room as he continued to use you, tears welling at your lids and saliva building at your lips, seeping down your chin.

He continued to pump himself into your mouth, slowly starting to lose control, getting so lost in how warm your lips were wrapped around him. His jaw fell open as he released a final groan, brows creasing and eyes screwed shut, thrusting so deep before the first shot of his release filled your mouth.

Then a few more shots followed and you swallowed every drop down your throat as he continued to look at you in wonder. His breath was punching out of his chest in ragged, overwhelmed gasps, sweat glittering at his temples while he silently groaned through the pleasure.

His head dipped low as you dragged your tongue up his length for the last time, from the base of his cock to the tip, and you finally licked him clean. A few moments of catching your breaths passed before he gently pulled you back to your feet.

As you both quickly fixed your clothes and adjusted your hair, he retrieved his cowboy hat from where it had been discarded on the floor, placing it back on his head with a grin. Then, without hesitation, he drew you close, his lips peppering your face with sweet, tender kisses.

You laughed at his sudden affection. "What's all this for?" you asked, smiling up at him.

"I feel obligated after... all of that," he confessed, his lips brushing softly against yours before he withdrew slightly. "You're amazing."

Your smile widened at his words, a soft warmth blooming in your chest. "And you're not so bad yourself," you replied teasingly, wrapping your arms around his neck. "So, was that enough to convince you to come back?"

"Almost," he murmured, his voice low and filled with warmth. "I think I need a bit more convincing."

You quirked an eyebrow. "I don't think I have it in me for round two."

"No, not that," he said with a laugh. His hand slid down to rest on your lower back, drawing you closer to him. "Have dinner with me tonight and I'll come by the office tomorrow."

You smiled up at him, a flutter of excitement dancing in your chest as you took in every detail of his rugged features—the subtle crinkle in the corner of his eyes, the hint of stubble along his jawline, and the warmth of his brown eyes that seemed to shine brighter in the light.

Your gaze lingered on his cowboy hat, and with a mischievous grin, you reached out to grab it, placing it atop your own head.

"Then you've got yourself a deal, cowboy."

#gifwriting #spencer reid smut #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fic #spencer reid x fem!reader smut #spencer reid #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x female reader #spencer reid x fanfiction #spencerreid #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid fluff #cowboy spence

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amiableness · 19 days

Note

hiii!

first, i’m loving this dad!james series its genuinely so heart fulfilling so thank you for taking time out of your day to write

now i’m not sure if this will spark any interest but maybe dad!james and r have been dating for a like a month but no one knows and then the whole gang (or just rem and sirius) come over and like James is like extra touchy with her which like he was before but more so now so they’re both kinda like ??? until james is like she’s my girlfriend

ily

Dad!James Potter x Bsf!Reader ☼ 977 words

thank you sm babe! i love writing for you all! hope you like it <3

“Do they seem off to you?” Remus murmurs, his gaze following James as he heads into the kitchen. He had muttered something about helping you with the tea, but it wasn’t like you really needed the help.

The whole afternoon, Remus had noticed how James couldn’t keep his eyes off you, his gaze filled with that familiar, adoring warmth. That in itself wasn’t unusual—James had always looked at you that way. But what really caught Remus off guard was how openly you were returning those looks, your eyes just as soft, filled with the same affection. It wasn’t just the casual brush of his fingers against yours or his hand resting briefly on your lower back as you passed. It was also in the subtle, consistent touches—his knee brushing against yours under the table or the way his hand would linger on your arm during conversations.

You both appeared entirely and undeniably in love.

Sirius, however, is lost in his own world, meticulously taking apart one of Henry’s Lego sets just to rebuild it. “No,” he replies, not even looking up, his fingers expertly snapping the pieces back together. “Why? Did you notice something?”

“He hasn’t stopped touching her since we’ve got here.” Remus continues to stare at the doorway, as if expecting it to provide an answer somehow. The wall separating the kitchen from the living room blocks his view, but he can’t shake the feeling that something is different.

“He’s always like that with her.” Sirius says, focusing on a new Lego piece that refuses to snap into place. His frustration is clear as he twists and turns the piece, trying to make it fit.

“No,” Remus replies, shaking his head with a hint of uncertainty. “I’m sure I heard him call her ‘baby’ earlier.”

Sirius finally looks up, curiosity piqued by Remus’s tone. “When did you hear that?”

“When we first got here,” Remus says, his gaze distant as he recalls the moment. “James was talking to her in a more intimate way than usual.”

Sirius considers this, his frown softening slightly. “Oh, he probably did. He’s always calling her something sweet,” Sirius says with a casual shrug. “Lovesick is what he is.”

“He’s never called her ‘baby,’” Remus insists, his brow furrowing. “It’s different, I swear it.”

Sirius sighs and shakes his head, still engrossed in his Lego project. “We’ve thought that for years, and nothing’s ever really changed. Maybe this is just another nickname of his.”

Remus swears he hears you sigh James' name from the kitchen, light and airy, and before Sirius can react, Remus is on his feet, tugging at his shirt with a sense of urgency. Sirius starts to protest, a frown forming on his face, but Remus doesn’t bother with an explanation. “C’mon,” he insists, pulling him toward the kitchen without another word.

“Nothing’s different, Rem. They’re just—” Sirius’s words die in his throat as he catches sight of you both.

James has you perched on the edge of the counter, his body firmly nestled between your legs, the warmth of him pressing against you in all the right ways. One hand cradles your cheek, his thumb gently stroking your skin as he tilts your head just so, deepening the kiss. His other hand grips your hip, fingers curling into the soft flesh where your shirt has bunched up, his touch pulling a gasp from you. The kiss is slow, unhurried, every brush of his lips against yours filled with a lingering desire, like he’s savoring every second. Your fingers tangle in his hair, tugging him closer, and the way your body arches into his, seeking more of him, makes it clear that neither of you wants to let go. The heat between you is palpable, each movement charged with a quiet intensity that speaks of just how much you want each other.

This is not the first time you’ve kissed clearly.

Remus clears his throat, a sound that cuts through the charged silence. You pull away from James, your breath coming in short, startled gasps. Your lips are swollen and pouty, still tingling from the intensity of the kiss. You clutch at James, reluctant to let go, as if the contact alone is grounding you.

James quickly tugs your shirt back into place, his hands lingering for a moment as he smooths out the fabric with a touch that’s both tender and possessive. His gaze flicks over to the boys, a mix of surprise and awkwardness crossing his face as he registers their stunned expressions. The heat in the room seems to intensify, the once-private moment now exposed under their watchful eyes.

“What the hell?” Sirius exclaims, his voice sharp with disbelief. “We’re out here building Legos—”

“I wasn’t building—” Remus begins to protest, but Sirius cuts him off.

“—as we wait for our tea, and you two are in here snogging?”

“No, we weren’t sno—” You start to protest, but Remus and Sirius cut you off with pointed looks.

“When did this happen?” Sirius demands, clearly miffed. “Because that’s obviously not the first time you’ve kissed her.” His tone reflects his hurt that James, his best friend, hadn’t mentioned anything about this development.

James clears his throat, his face a mix of embarrassment and defensiveness. “About a month ago,” he admits.

“So you two are just messing around?” Remus asks, raising an eyebrow. James’s expression turns from defensive to offended, his brows knitting together.

“No, you prat! She’s my girlfriend.” James snaps, his voice tinged with frustration.

“Bloody hell, it only took you about eight years.” Remus retorts, a smirk playing on his lips. You let out a laugh, unable to help yourself at Remus’s quip.

Sirius, his annoyance settling, lets out an exaggerated sigh, “I expect another niece or nephew as compensation for making us all wait this long for you two to get together.”

please consider reblogging and/or leaving a comment! it keeps me motivated to write! 💌

#dad!james and bsf!reader universe #dad!james potter x reader #dad!james potter #james potter fic #james potter drabble #james potter oneshot #james potter fanfiction #james potter x fem!reader #james potter x you #james potter x reader #james potter x y/n #james potter baby blurb #james potter blurb #james potter fluff

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intynidad · 1 year

Note

Hey, can you do shapeshifting yandere x reader who's slowly realising that the yandere has replaced their significant other?

I love this idea

I think i got a little carried away with this but i really like how it turned out

TW: yandere stuff, kidnapping (not towards reader), murder (implied), doppelgänger??

LOVE HAS MANY FORMS

It began with subtle shifts, barely noticeable at first. Changes in your partner's attitude that left you with a lingering sense of suspicion. They hadn't done anything wrong per se, but their behavior was undeniably different.

"Hello, darling," they greeted you with a gentle kiss on the cheek. "How was your day?"

It had been a month since this transformation began. "I'm okay, love. How about you?" you responded, trying to navigate this newfound affection and adoration. It was a stark contrast to the cold and distant demeanor they had maintained throughout your one-year relationship. It was as if they had become an entirely different person.

You couldn't deny the warmth that came with their displays of love. It was a welcomed change, albeit one that left you feeling slightly perplexed. The shift in their behavior raised questions in your mind. What had sparked this sudden outpouring of affection? Was it genuine, or was there something more lurking beneath the surface?

As the days turned into weeks, you found yourself torn between embracing this newfound connection and cautiously questioning its authenticity. A part of you cherished the tenderness and closeness you now shared, relishing in the affectionate gestures that had previously been absent. But another part of you couldn't shake the nagging suspicion that something wasn't quite right.

Your suspicions were confirmed when you feigned sleep, only to be jolted awake by peculiar noises emanating from the basement. Intrigued and filled with trepidation, you summoned the courage to investigate, guided by the unnerving sounds that reached your ears. As you approached the basement door, your heart raced in anticipation of the truth that awaited you.

Pushing open the creaking door, your eyes widened in disbelief as you were greeted by an unexpected sight. Before you stood your partner, bound to a chair, their expression one of fear and vulnerability. And next to them stood an eerie doppelgänger, an exact replica of your beloved but radiating an unsettling aura.

Caught in this bizarre confrontation, you couldn't help but eavesdrop on their conversation, your heart sinking with each word uttered. Your partner, weakened and emaciated, pleaded for their release, swearing to keep the encounter a secret.

"Please let me go, I swear I won't tell anyone about this!" your partner pleaded desperately, their voice laced with fear and desperation. Their frail form seemed to have withered, contrasting sharply with the stronger, more imposing figure standing beside them.

"Let you go and then what?" the doppelgänger retorted, their tone dripping with anger and resentment. "So you can continue treating them like trash? I won't allow it."

“I don’t even like that idiot!, i just date them for a bet, I don't care if you wanna date them, do it as yourself and let me go!”

Frustration and confusion welled up inside you as you grappled with the shocking revelation unfolding before you. Your real partner, bound and vulnerable, claimed their indifference towards you, confessing that they had only entered into the relationship as part of a bet. The words stung, piercing your heart with betrayal and hurt.

"Don't you dare call them an idiot!" the doppelgänger's voice rang out, filled with fierce protectiveness and devotion. "They are the most incredible person in this world. I love them more than you could ever comprehend."

The weight of the situation bore down upon you, leaving you torn between conflicting emotions. The one you had trusted had revealed their true nature, while the doppelgänger stood as a beacon of love and adoration, professing an unwavering devotion to you.

The doppelgänger's voice, filled with anguish and resentment, pierced through the tense air once more. "I don't understand why they would choose you! I have assumed countless forms in the past, and none of them caught their interest. But you, you managed to captivate their heart effortlessly, and yet you seem unaffected. How dare you!"

The sound of their scream made you stumble backwards and accidentally stepped a little to hard on a Wooden plank that made a small noise ,it was small yet enough to caught the attention of both of the persons on the other side of the door.

“Ho-honey is that you?” The doppelgänger voice sound scared

“HELP ME Y/N IM HERE HELP” your partner voice boomed into your ears as the door opened

Your eyes went to the doppelgänger to your partner to the doppelgänger again and the cycle continues for what felt like an eternity

“STOP LOOKING AROUND LIKE AN IDIOT AND HELP ME OUT” your boyfriend pleaded in despair

You looked again at the doppelgänger eyesore they filled with fear but you knew that what they fear wasn’t they getting caught…

“How much did you hear?” The doppelgänger spoke with a shake voice

Small tears started to form in the corner of your eyes “one year … and it was all a bet” you said looking at the ground

“AND THAT WHAT YOU TOOK OUT OF THIS SITUATION,SHUT UP AND HELP ME OUT” your partner said with panic

After a moment or maybe an hour of silence you decided to lift your head and look at both of them

“Honey…” you said but this time looking at the doppelgänger

“When you finish whatever you have to do, please come back to bed, is cold without you” and gave your new “partner” a small kiss on the lips

“Yes…yes love i promise ill be quick” small happiness tears started to fall from your partner eyes it would have been a romantic scene if it wasn’t for your ex screaming on the background

“YOU STUPID WHORE, YOU ASSHOLE I HOPE YOU DIE YOU SELFISH BI-” A hit in the head and they were knocked out

“Are-are they dead?” You asked with a small amount of fear

“No, don’t worry i will not expose you to such things” your new partner gave you a kiss on your hands “ go to sleep love, ill be up in a second”

You gave one last look at the limb body of your ex significant other…and walked away

Later that night you were sleeping on your bed when a pair of warm arms hugged you from behind while whispering praises and promises of love

And for the first time, you believe them

——

Your partner slowly started to change after that day, to the rest of they world they just started to experiment with hair dye and contact lenses but you knew that they wanted to love you as their true self, and you were eager to let them love you

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kira-dofc · 3 months

Text

Bodyguard! Gojo x K-pop Idol Male reader

Part 1

Part 2

Notes: Sorry I was inactive for so long 😔 the Kuroo x male reader is killing me idk what to write so I js thought to myself what if I'd just made one for Gojo? Well anyways yes there's going to be a part 2 of this and yes I'm working on Kuroo 💖

Word count: 2400

Warnings: none 💖

Oh, to live a life like yours. You’re successful beyond measure, with a voice that can mesmerize, moves that can captivate, and a bank account that reflects your hard-earned fortune. But more than all of this, you are stunningly attractive. Fans fall to their knees at the mere sight of you, screaming your name with fervent adoration. Every world tour you embark on with your group sees you receiving the loudest chants, the most impassioned cries. You are undeniably the favorite, the center of attention in every sense.

Your popularity knows no bounds, transcending borders and cultures. Men and women alike would go to extraordinary lengths just to catch a glimpse of your perfect figure. Who wouldn’t? Perfection seems to be synonymous with your name. Every time your group makes a comeback, it is you who shines the brightest. The camera adores you, the spotlight gravitates towards you, and almost all of the lines in your songs seem to be crafted just for your voice. You are, without a doubt, the nucleus of your group’s immense success.

The world is in awe of you. Fanboys and fangirls from every corner of the globe idolize you, dream about you, and dedicate their lives to following your every move. Yet, amidst this whirlwind of fame and admiration, one thing perplexes everyone. Why, with all your perfection, are you still single? Any idol would be ecstatic to be with you, regardless of gender. Your charm knows no boundaries, and your appeal is universal. It’s a mystery that keeps fans up at night, fantasizing about the possibility of one day being the one to capture your heart.

Speculation runs rampant. Fans weave intricate fantasies where they imagine themselves by your side, filling the role of your perfect partner. Despite their daydreams, no one can figure out why you remain unattached. It's a paradox that adds to your allure, making you even more enigmatic and desirable. They imagine a million scenarios, all the while hoping that perhaps, just perhaps, they might be the one to break your spell of solitude.

But what the world doesn't know, what they couldn't possibly fathom, is that you've been in a relationship for almost two months now. The very day your group made its most recent comeback, you found yourself entangled in a romance that has brought a new kind of light into your life. The secrecy surrounding your relationship only adds to its intensity. It’s a connection built on mutual understanding, shared dreams, and a love that transcends the superficial adoration you receive from the masses.

The reveal of your significant other will be nothing short of earth-shattering for your fans. They’ve spent countless hours speculating about who could possibly be worthy of your affections. When the truth comes out, it will send shockwaves through your fanbase. The person you've chosen isn't just any idol; they are someone who matches your perfection, complements your strengths, and fills your heart in a way that no one else could.

In the end, the world will see that behind your flawless exterior, behind the spotlight and the chants, there is a person capable of deep, profound love. Your fans will be surprised, yes, but they will also come to understand that even someone as perfect as you deserves to experience the joy and intimacy of a genuine relationship. And as they daydream about marrying you, they'll have to come to terms with the fact that your heart already belongs to someone extraordinary.

4:00 a.m. The plane touched down, marking the penultimate stop of your extensive world tour. Just one more show remained before you could finally indulge in a well-deserved rest. You gathered your handheld bag, stepping off the aircraft with a sense of weariness and anticipation.

As you approached the "Arrivals" section of the quiet airport, you noticed the stark contrast between the calm you expected and the frenzy that awaited you. Despite the ungodly hour, paparazzi had gathered in droves, their cameras flashing incessantly, almost blinding you with their intensity. The cries of “Y/N! Over here! Y/N! Y/N!” pierced the early morning silence, mingling with the shouts of enthusiastic fans who seemed undeterred by the time.

You sighed, mustering a smile for the cameras. It was an experience you had grown accustomed to, yet it never ceased to astonish you how dedicated your fans were, even at such an hour. As you continued to navigate through the cacophony of lights and voices, your mind drifted to the comfort of the hotel room awaiting you.

Suddenly, the chaotic crowd shifted, and out of nowhere, a fan broke through, sprinting towards you with an intensity that caught you off guard. Your heart raced, but before you could react, your personal bodyguard, Gojo, intervened. He stepped in front of the fan with a menacing presence, his cold stare stopping them in their tracks. "I wouldn't do that if I were you," he said, his voice low and threatening.

The fan recoiled, visibly shaken by Gojo’s imposing figure, and quickly retreated back into the crowd. Gojo turned to you, concern etched on his face. "You okay, sir?" he asked, his voice softening as he etched a reassuring smile.

"Y-yes, thank you!" you stammered, bowing slightly as you felt a blush creep up your cheeks. You were grateful for his protection, though his proximity always seemed to make your heart flutter in a way you couldn’t quite explain.

A van soon arrived to transport you and your group to the hotel. The bodyguards formed a protective circle around you all, ensuring your safe passage into the vehicle. The drive was mercifully short, a brief 30-minute journey that allowed you a moment of respite from the relentless pace of your tour.

Upon reaching the hotel, the sense of exhaustion weighed heavily upon you. The events of the day had drained you more than usual, and all you could think about was the comfort of a bed. The receptionist greeted you with a polite smile, handing over the keycard to your personal room.

You thanked them and made your way to the elevator, your body moving on autopilot. The elevator doors closed, and you leaned against the wall, letting out a deep breath. The journey to your designated floor felt like an eternity, each second dragging as your mind wandered to thoughts of sleep.

Finally, the doors opened, and you stepped out, navigating the corridor to your room. You swiped the keycard, the door unlocking with a soft click. As you entered, you took in the serene ambiance of the room, a stark contrast to the chaos outside. The bed looked inviting, and you could almost feel the soft sheets against your skin.

You set your bag down and took a moment to appreciate the solitude. The tour had been exhilarating, but it had also taken its toll. As you prepared for bed, your thoughts drifted to Gojo’s protective presence and the fleeting moment of connection you felt with him. It was a small comfort amidst the whirlwind of your life, a reminder that even in the chaos, there were moments of genuine human connection.

Finally, you slipped under the covers, letting the exhaustion wash over you. The last thought before you succumbed to sleep was of the final show tomorrow and the promise of rest that lay just beyond it. The world outside could wait; for now, you were content to let the quiet embrace of sleep take you away.

You woke up with a sudden woozy feeling, your eyes reluctantly opening to the glow of the afternoon sun filtering through the curtains. "3:00 p.m.," you groaned, checking your phone for the time. You stretched, blinked, and smacked your lips as you stared at the blank wall in front of you, trying to shake off the remnants of sleep.

"Woof woof!" Your dog, Cherry, whom you managed to bring along despite the hectic schedule of your world tour, barked enthusiastically at you. He wagged his tail back and forth, jumping onto your lap with a joyful energy that brought a smile to your face. You patted his head, feeling the softness of his fur beneath your fingers. "Good morning, Cherry," you murmured, though it was well past noon. "Let's go. I'm so hungry..." You squeezed his cheeks affectionately before getting up and heading out of your room.

Before thinking about food, you decided to freshen up with a shower. Grabbing a towel from the neatly arranged drawer, you made your way to the bathroom. The hot water cascading down your body felt rejuvenating, washing away the exhaustion from your travels and performances. You stood there for a while, letting the steam envelop you, a rare moment of peace in your otherwise hectic life.

Once you were done, you dried off and rummaged through your luggage, looking for something comfortable to wear. Settling on a plain shirt and a pair of black jogging pants, you felt a sense of relief. The casual attire was a stark contrast to the elaborate costumes you wore on stage, and it felt good to just be yourself for a while.

With two days until your next concert, you decided to take it easy and rest. You picked up your phone and thought about how to pass the time. An idea struck you—why not do a livestream on Instagram? It had been a while since you connected with your fans in such a direct way, and it seemed like a good way to unwind.

Setting up the livestream, you watched as the viewer count quickly climbed, reaching 15,000 and still rising. "How's your day?" you read aloud from one of the comments. "Nothing much really, I'm just soooo tired," you chuckled, scrolling through more questions. The familiar 'will you marry me Y/N' and 'are you dating anyone' questions popped up, causing you to smile wryly. It was flattering, but also a bit overwhelming.

"Y/N, what do you think of Kim Chaewon?" another question asked. You raised an eyebrow, smirking slightly. "Hmm, she's nice, I guess. Also, if this is one of your guys' traps, I'm not falling for those anymore." You stared into the camera, your fans admiring you through their screens.

As you continued to interact with your fans, you suddenly heard the sound of your door opening. A wave of panic washed over you. Had someone broken in? How could they have gotten past security? You had sworn you locked the door. Your mind raced with possibilities.

The door opened wider, and you saw a white-haired man kneeling, putting his shoes away. "Babeeee, what do you want to eat? Do you want to get it delivered, or do you wanna go out?" His voice was casual, but it sent a shock through you. You gasped, trying to quickly turn off the livestream, but it was too late.

The comments exploded in a frenzy:

"BABE?????"

"WHO IS THAT 😭😭"

"HE'S DATING SOMEONE!?!?!?!?"

"IT SOUNDS LIKE A GUY"

"OMGGGGGGGGGGGGG"

"WHAT THE HELL DOES THAT BABE MEAN???"

You panicked, letting out a little squeal as you finally managed to turn off the livestream and shut your phone. "GOJO!" you screamed, your heart pounding in your chest.

"What?" he replied, looking at you with a mix of confusion and amusement.

"What do I do? What do I do? What do I do..." You paced back and forth, muttering the same words over and over, your mind racing. Gojo watched you, a smirk playing on his lips.

"You know, it's not half as bad," he said finally. "People will know that you're my property from now on."

"Still! I never wanted them to find out this way..." you sighed, collapsing onto the couch beside him. The weight of the situation settled over you, a mix of anxiety and resignation.

"It'll be okay. No matter what, I'm always with you." He reached out, touching your chin gently before pulling you into a hug. You hugged him back tightly, the comfort of his embrace grounding you.

"Thanks..." you whispered, feeling a sense of calm wash over you despite the chaos that had just erupted.

After a moment, you pulled back, determination in your eyes. "I need to do this right," you said. "I'll post a confession about us dating. It's better than letting rumors spiral out of control."

Gojo nodded, his expression serious. "Whatever you decide, I'm here for you."

Taking a deep breath, you picked up your phone, opening your Instagram app once more. You composed a heartfelt post, explaining how you had been dating your bodyguard, Gojo, for a while and how much he meant to you. You acknowledged that the livestream slip-up wasn't how you wanted to reveal your relationship, but you hoped your fans would understand and support you.

As you hit 'post', a sense of relief washed over you. It was out there now, and there was no turning back. You and Gojo sat together, waiting for the inevitable reactions. Notifications started flooding in almost immediately, a mix of shock, support, and a few inevitable negative comments. But overall, the response was more positive than you had expected.

Your fans, though surprised, expressed their happiness for you, many of them emphasizing their continued support no matter what. It was a heartwarming realization that even in your highly publicized life, there were people who genuinely cared about your happiness.

You turned to Gojo, a smile playing on your lips. "Looks like we're officially out in the open now," you said.

He grinned back, squeezing your hand. "About time," he replied. "Now, about that food—I'm starving."

You laughed, the tension easing from your shoulders. "Let's get something delivered. I think we've had enough excitement for one day."

As you placed the order, you felt a sense of peace. The world knew about your relationship, and while it wasn't how you planned, it felt good to no longer hide. With Gojo by your side, you knew you could face whatever challenges came your way. And with a concert in two days, you had plenty to focus on. But for now, you were content to enjoy a quiet evening together, knowing that no matter what, you had each other.

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nixiefics · 4 months

Text

Posses

Pairing: Robb Stark X Silent!Sister Reader

Warnings: Smut, posessive Robb, p in v sex, oral (female receiving), rough sex

Robb Stark winces as you carefully manipulate his leg, guiding his hip back into place with practiced hands. The sharp intake of breath that escapes him when the bone finally clicks into its rightful position tells you just how much pain he’s been enduring. You’ve been a Silent Sister in training for only a short time, but already you’ve seen more suffering than you ever imagined possible. Yet, this man, the Young Wolf, is different. His pain seems to ripple through you as if it were your own.

“Thank you,” he says, his voice strained but genuine. His blue eyes meet yours, and for a moment, you forget the vow of silence you took upon entering your order. You nod in acknowledgment, your fingers still lingering on his hip, feeling the heat of his body through the thin linen of his undergarment.

Days pass, and you tend to Robb’s injuries with unwavering diligence. His recovery is slow, but each day he grows stronger. You watch as he interacts with his men, see the respect and loyalty they have for him. He’s not just their King; he’s their friend, their brother. It’s a bond forged in the fires of battle and tempered by the fairness and justice he shows them.

Grey Wind, his direwolf, is never far from his side. The massive wolf seems to sense your importance to Robb, often watching you with intelligent, piercing eyes. When you approach, Grey Wind’s posture is relaxed, but the unspoken warning is clear: you are under his protection as well.

But it’s not just his men and his direwolf who are drawn to him. You feel an undeniable pull towards Robb Stark. His kindness, his honour, his unwavering dedication to his family and his cause – all of it captivates you. You’ve seen men broken by war, their spirits shattered as surely as their bodies, but Robb remains whole. More than whole, he seems to grow stronger with each passing day, his determination like a beacon in the dark.

One evening, as you’re tending to another soldier’s wounds, you feel his eyes on you. Robb watches from across the camp, his jaw tight, his eyes dark with something you can’t quite name. Jealousy? The thought lingers as you stitch up the gash on the soldier’s arm, your hands steady despite the intensity of Robb’s gaze. Grey Wind is by his side, growling softly, mirroring Robb’s protective feelings.

Later, as you change the dressing on Robb’s hip, he grabs your wrist, his grip surprisingly strong. “You spend too much time with the others,” he says, his voice low and edged with frustration. “I need you with me.”

You look up, startled by the intensity in his eyes. You try to pull away, but his hold tightens. “I don’t want you tending to them,” he says, his voice rough. “I want you by my side. Always.”

You nod, your heart pounding. His possessiveness is startling, but also oddly reassuring. It means he cares, that he values you more than you realized. From that moment on, you are always at his side, tending to his needs, ensuring his recovery. Grey Wind often lies nearby, his presence a constant reminder of Robb’s vigilance even when he cannot be with you.

The other men notice, their eyes following you with curiosity and a hint of envy. Robb’s attention and possessiveness are clear to all, and it changes the dynamic in the camp. No longer just a healer, you are now the woman who has captured the heart of the Young Wolf.

One day, you’re tending to a minor injury on a young soldier when Robb storms into the tent. His face is a mask of barely controlled anger. “Leave us,” he commands the soldier, who scrambles to his feet and exits hastily.

Robb strides over to you, his eyes blazing. “I told you, I don’t want you with them,” he growls, grabbing your hand and pulling you close. “You’re mine.”

You can feel the heat of his breath on your face, the intensity of his emotions crashing over you like a wave. His jealousy is raw, visceral, and it sends a shiver down your spine. You’ve never seen him like this, so consumed by his need for you. Grey Wind stands at his side, his eyes fixed on you, a silent enforcer of Robb’s wishes.

“I can’t stand seeing you with them,” he admits, his voice a harsh whisper. “It tears me apart. You’re the only one who understands me, who makes me feel whole. I need you, only you.”

You reach up, placing a gentle hand on his cheek, feeling the tension in his jaw. You nod, your silent promise to be by his side always. His grip on you softens, his eyes searching yours for reassurance. Grey Wind nudges your leg gently, as if to seal the promise.

In the weeks that follow, Robb’s possessiveness only grows. He keeps you close, his eyes always on you, ensuring that no one else can claim your attention. It’s a fierce, consuming need that drives him, a reflection of the depth of his feelings for you. Grey Wind is never far, his protective presence a constant reminder of the bond you share with Robb.

One night, as you sit by the fire, he pulls you into his lap, his arms wrapping around you protectively. “You’re mine,” he whispers into your ear, his voice a low growl. “No one else’s. Remember that.”

You nod, your heart swelling with a mixture of love and something darker, more primal. Robb Stark may be the Young Wolf, a fearsome leader and a brilliant strategist, but to you, he is simply Robb – the man who would fight the world to keep you by his side. And as you look into his eyes, you know that you would do the same for him.

One afternoon, you are out gathering herbs when a group of soldiers approaches you. They’re friendly, asking for your help with minor ailments. Before you can respond, Grey Wind appears from the trees, teeth bared, a low growl rumbling from his throat. The soldiers step back, fear evident in their eyes.

You pat his head gently in warning, but the direwolf’s eyes remain fixed on the men until they retreat. When you return to camp, Robb is waiting, his eyes dark with concern and jealousy.

“Were they bothering you?” he asks, his voice tight.

You shake your head, but Robb pulls you into his arms, holding you close. “I don’t want you going out alone anymore,” he says. “Grey Wind will accompany you, or I will.”

You nod, understanding the depth of his worry. His possessiveness is more than just jealousy; it’s a need to protect you, to keep you safe in a world that is anything but. You feel his love in every fierce look, every protective gesture, every time Grey Wind’s eyes follow you like a shadow.

As Robb’s recovery progresses, your bond deepens. He confides in you, shares his fears, his hopes, his dreams. You listen, your silence a balm to his troubled soul. And in those quiet moments, you realize that you’ve found something rare and precious in the midst of war.

Robb’s men see the change in their lord, the lightness in his step, the hope in his eyes. They see the way he looks at you, the way Grey Wind shadows your every move, and they understand. The Young Wolf has found his heart, and it beats for you.

One night, as you sit by the fire, Robb’s arms around you and Grey Wind at your feet, he whispers, “You’re mine, and I am yours. Always.”

You smile, knowing that no matter what the future holds, you will face it together. Robb Stark may be the Young Wolf, a fearsome leader and a brilliant strategist, but to you, he is simply Robb – the man who captured your heart with his honour, his kindness, and his unwavering love. And in his eyes, you see the same love reflected back at you, a bond that no war, no enemy, can ever break.

"You should rest, My King," you say softly. "Let us retire for the evening."

Your words leave him stunned for a moment. You have taken a vow of silence, yet here you are, speaking to him. The surprise in his eyes quickly melts into something deeper, a mixture of relief and gratitude. Robb nods, allowing you to help him up, your hands steadying him as he leans on you for support. Grey Wind shadows your every step, his amber eyes watching protectively.

As you guide Robb towards his tent, the camp around you starts to quiet down. The fires burn low, casting flickering shadows that dance in the night. You can feel the weight of Robb’s gaze on you, the unspoken questions simmering just beneath the surface.

Inside the tent, the atmosphere is warm and intimate. You help Robb ease down onto his furs, his eyes never leaving yours. He reaches for your hand, his grip firm and reassuring. “Why now?” he asks softly, his voice tinged with curiosity and concern. “Why break your vow of silence?”

You take a deep breath, kneeling beside him. “Because I need you to understand,” you begin, your voice steady despite the turmoil inside you. “My silence was a shield, a way to distance myself from the pain and suffering I witnessed. But with you, it’s different. I can’t remain silent any longer. Not when my heart speaks so loudly.”

Robb’s eyes soften, his hand squeezing yours gently. “What are you saying?” he asks, his voice barely above a whisper.

“I’m saying that I want to leave the Silent Sisters,” you declare, your resolve hardening. “But I will only do so if you share my commitment, if you promise that our bond is as strong as I believe it to be.”

Robb’s eyes widen, his surprise evident. He pulls you closer, his fingers brushing a strand of hair from your face. “You would give up your vows for me?” he asks, his voice filled with awe.

You nod, your heart pounding. “Yes. But only if you promise to be with me, to share this life with me. I cannot leave my order for uncertainty. I need your commitment, Robb.”

Robb’s expression transforms into one of determination. “I promise,” he says firmly, his eyes locking onto yours. “You have my word. I will stand by you, always. You are not just my healer, but my heart. I need you by my side.”

A sense of relief washes over you, and you lean into him, feeling the warmth of his embrace. Grey Wind huffs and trots to settle just outside the entrance to the tent, a silent sentinel watching over you both. For the first time in a long while, you feel a sense of peace and belonging.

Robb cups your face in his hands, his thumb brushing over your cheek. “You’ve given me more than just my health,” he whispers. “You’ve given me hope, a future I didn’t dare dream of. I promise you, I will do everything in my power to keep you safe, to make you happy.”

Tears of relief and joy well in your eyes as you nod. “And I promise to stand by you, to support you in every way I can,” you vow, your voice filled with emotion.

Robb leans in, his forehead resting against yours. “We will face whatever comes together,” he murmurs. “From this day forward, we are bound by more than just duty. We are bound by love.”

His words hang in the air, heavy with promise and certainty. You feel the heat of his breath, the nearness of his lips, and it sends a shiver down your spine. The world around you fades away until there is only Robb—his eyes, his touch, his unwavering gaze that holds you captive.

Slowly, he tilts his head, his lips brushing against yours in a whisper of a touch. The sensation is electric, a spark that ignites something deep within you. His hands cup your face gently, his thumbs caressing your cheeks with a tenderness that belies the intensity of his emotions.

Then, without warning, the kiss deepens. His lips press against yours with a fervour that takes your breath away. It’s as if he’s pouring all his love, all his passion, into this single moment, and you respond in kind, matching his intensity. Your hands find their way to his hair, fingers tangling in the soft, dark strands as you pull him closer.

The kiss is searing, consuming. It feels like the world is burning around you, but all you can focus on is the sensation of his lips on yours, the taste of him, the way his body presses against yours with a desperate need. Every brush of his lips, every flick of his tongue, sends waves of pleasure coursing through you, leaving you breathless and yearning for more.

Robb’s hands slide down to your waist, pulling you even closer until there is no space between you. You can feel the rapid beat of his heart against your chest, mirroring the wild rhythm of your own. His lips leave yours only to trail hot, open-mouthed kisses along your jaw, your neck, igniting a trail of fire in their wake.

You gasp, your head falling back as he finds the sensitive spot just below your ear, his teeth grazing your skin in a way that sends a jolt of pure pleasure through you. “Robb,” you whisper, your voice trembling with desire. He responds with a low growl, his hands gripping your hips possessively as he brings his lips back to yours in another fevered kiss.

Time loses all meaning as you lose yourself in him, in the heat of his kiss, the strength of his embrace. The world outside the tent, the war, the uncertainty of the future—all of it fades away until there is only this moment, this man, and the love that binds you together.

You're vaguely aware of his fingers at the laces of your dress, tugging impatiently at them. Soon, it seems, he loses all patience and you gasp as he violently rips at the seams of your dress, pushing it over your shoulders and hips with a growl. "On the bed."

You crawl to the middle of the bed of furs, your heart pounding with anticipation as Robb stands before you with a hungry gaze. His possessive nature has always been clear, but now it's different - now, it's thrilling and exciting.

He sheds his own layers first, causing you swallow thickly as his chest is exposed; thick thighs built for fighting but that make you think they might be good for other pleasures as well. And then he is completely bare and you feel your core clench at the sight of his cock. Thicker than it was long, with veins running all along it; the thought of running your tongue over those veins makes your mouth water.

"Gods, you're glorious." you whisper, resisting the urge to chew at your nails.

Robb's calloused hands trace the curves of your body, sending shivers down your spine. His touch is confident and passionate, and you can't help but feel desired under his gaze. His lips find yours, and he kisses you deeply, his tongue exploring your mouth with a fervour that leaves you breathless.

As he breaks the kiss, his mouth moves to your neck, nibbling and licking the sensitive skin. You moan softly, your fingers tangling in his hair as he continues his assault on your senses. His hands slip under your shift, caressing your breasts with calloused hands. You arch your back, pressing yourself into his touch, wanting more.

Robb takes the hint, his fingers deftly removing your shift and freeing your body to his gaze. His mouth finds your nipples, and he sucks and nips at them, his stubble adding an extra layer of sensation. You gasp, your head falling back as he worships your body.

His hands trail down your body, fingers find your clit, and he begins to rub slow circles, making you moan and writhe beneath him. His other hand joins the first as well, his fingers sliding into your wet pussy. You are more than ready for him.

His head dips between your legs, and his tongue finds your clit. He licks and sucks, his fingers still inside you, curled to hit that perfect spot. You moan louder, your hips bucking as he brings you closer and closer to the edge.

Just as you're about to cum, he stops. You look at him, confused, but he just smirks at you. Robb pulls himself to his knees, positioning himself between your legs. He rubs the head of his cock against your clit, making you moan loudly again. He teases you like this for a moment before slowly sliding inside you.

He fills you up, stretching you in the most delicious way. He starts to move, his thrusts slow and deep at first. You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper inside you.

Robb's pace quickens, his thrusts becoming harder and faster. You can feel yourself getting close again, and you urge him on. "Harder, Robb, harder," you gasp. He complies, his cock slamming into you, making the bed shake.

You feel yourself on the brink, and then you're cumming, your orgasm ripping through you like a tidal wave. Robb keeps thrusting, drawing out your pleasure until he finally follows you over the edge, filling you up with his cum.

He collapses on top of you, his breathing heavy and ragged. You wrap your arms around him, feeling closer to him than ever before. Robb's possessiveness has always been a part of him, but now, it's something else - it's a sign of his love and devotion to you.

As you lay there, basking in the afterglow of your lovemaking, you know that this is just the beginning of your journey together. And you can't wait to see where it takes you.

#game of thrones #Robb stark x reader #Robb stark smut #game of thrones x reader #game of thrones smut #got x reader smut #Robb stark x reader smut #fanfic #smut #smut x reader

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verofleur · 1 month

Text

A Swan's Embrace

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pairing : five hargreeves x fem!reader

wc : 13.7k+

warnings : takes place a bit after season three (only mentioned like twice), mentions and descriptions of death / violence, uses of the term “yn”, and a few alterations to the original plot of the show

synopsis : they had lost each other once before, only to find themselves face to face again. perhaps it was fate’s way of giving them another chance to be together — or maybe just another form of torture. only time could tell.

a/n ⦂ the ending of this one made it worthy to finish writing. apologies for any mistakes ofc and the few alterations, though i hope you guys enjoy !! requests are still open btw + series coming soon, so pls look forward to that. tons of love — n <𝟹 ‎ ‎ ‎

‎

“I guess you're not that bad to have around..” he said, his eyes fixed straight ahead. She glanced at him, a small smile tugging at her lips. His words were genuine.

Have you ever experienced that moment at the end of the day, when you lie in bed beneath a dark, unadorned ceiling? The silence becomes noticeable, pressing in from all sides, as your mind spins in a chaotic whirl of thoughts, lacking any clear direction.

Gradually, the weight of the facade you’ve so carefully constructed begins to lift. This facade was your armor, your second nature, designed to shield you from the world’s relentless demands and its indifferent inhabitants. Alone in the quiet, you let it all fall away, exposing the raw vulnerability beneath.

In that fragile stillness, a single question reverberates endlessly in your mind, like the persistent drip of a leaky faucet : How did it come to this?

‎

She knew precisely how she had ended up here. Slowly beginning to lose all hope of change and the ability to move forward as she once had. It was her choice to tread the path of denial rather than face the harsh truth head-on. Now, that decision tormented her with unyielding self-doubt, growing more insistent with every step she took down that road.

It was simple, really. Tragic, yet undeniably simple.

Amidst the haze of pain and the fortress of walls she had meticulously built, there was a time when Yn radiated genuine happiness. Her laughter was unrestrained, her smiles effortless, and she embraced each day with a heart wide open, finding beauty even in the most fleeting moments. That was before the weight of her choices began to press down on her, before denial became her refuge.

Recruited at just sixteen, Yn was thrust into the clandestine world of the Commission, an organization dedicated to safeguarding the Earth’s timeline. This recruitment was no ordinary decision; it carried a weight so profound that it would forever change the trajectory of her life.

Her role was that of a time correction assassin. As an agent of fate, she was charged with maintaining the delicate balance of history by removing those who threatened its continuity. It sounded insane when put into words, but she never dwelled on it, nor on the life that had soon slipped into a dim memory. The cases eventually consumed her, demanding she forsake her morals and take lives merely because their names appeared on a piece of paper or in a file.

Though the nature of her work was undeniably gruesome, those within the Commission who knew her well would offer remarkably consistent descriptions when asked about her character.

She was like a warm, sunny day after months of cold, freezing nights, effortlessly bringing smiles to those around her. Her positive spirit seemed like an eternal spring, her presence making others feel at ease. Her laughter was infectious, her comfort genuine, and her eyes sparkled with an innocent mischief, a curiosity about the world that remained untouched by the harsh realities she would later encounter.

Even as a child, she had a remarkable ability to find beauty in the mundane. While others were captivated by grand adventures and heroic tales, she delighted in the simplicity of a blooming flower or the rhythmic patter of rain against her window. This innate sense of wonder, though it set her apart, also made her endearing. Friends sought her out for comfort and advice, drawn to her sunnier, more hopeful perspective.

The Commission was the last place anyone would have expected her to end up, especially in the correction division. It wasn’t truly her choice; the job was thrust upon her. Yet, she accepted it with the same quiet grace that had once marked her approach to every simple joy.

Now in her early twenties, she had grown into her role with a remarkable blend of skill and subtlety, surpassing expectations without ever seeking recognition. Her approach was neither overzealous nor indifferent; she performed each task with great efficiency, provided support when needed, and stepped into leadership when called upon. She wouldn’t describe those decisions as mere obedience. She just had a keen sense of doing what felt morally right for her or those around her.

As good as she was, some would argue that one of her weaknesses lay in her tendency to let emotions guide her over logic.

A defining moment of this flaw surfaced during a mission, taking place around the 50s. Her target, despite their grave crimes, displayed a tender affection for a pet cat. The gentle care with which the target nurtured the animal sparked a deep hesitation within her. Faced with the incongruity of violence against such innocence, she found herself unable to reconcile the act of killing with the peaceful presence of the pet, leading her to falter.

That moment of internal conflict led her to establish a stringent personal rule: never to undertake missions involving pets. This rule became a steadfast principle, and fortunately, it remained intact.

Away from the demands of her official duties, she had a knack for building connections amidst the ever-shifting landscape of her workplace. Regardless of the constant influx of new faces and the roster's frequent changes, she managed to forge a tight-knit circle of colleagues. These were the individuals with whom she shared her breaks and quiet moments, creating a semblance of stability and camaraderie in an otherwise transient environment.

Among her closest allies was Dot, a crucial partner in their intricate web of operations. Dot's role was to track and identify threats that could disrupt the world's delicate balance. Their relationship went beyond mere professional interaction; it was a deep partnership built on mutual trust and understanding. Dot supplied Yn with essential intelligence and cutting-edge gadgets for her missions, but their connection was far more than just professional. They shared late-night conversations that explored the deeper meanings of their work, confided in each other amidst a world that demanded unwavering strength, and found solace in the occasional office gossip.

Even despite the demanding nature of her job, Yn was rarely alone. Her presence was a constant in the bustling corridors of the work place, whether she was engaged in solitary training, delving into cases, or simply enjoying a quiet meal while reading. She appeared content, immersed in her routines.

Or so she believed.

The term "once" now carries a heavy, poignant weight. What she had once cherished with all her heart had somehow transformed into a source of profound resentment, forever entwined with the reasons that led her to her fateful state.

“What’s this?” he asked, his gaze fixed on the cup of warm black coffee on his desk. His tone was calm, but his expression was all sharpness.

She glanced at him quickly, a hint of nervousness in her voice. “Uh.. I noticed you were working late and skipped lunch. I thought you might need a little pick-me-up for the rest of the night ─ assuming you’re planning to stay longer, of course.” She offered him a small, hopeful smile to accompany her words.

It didn’t take long for Yn to catch wind of the news.

The air crackled with whispers ─ murmurs exchanged over lunch, fragments of conversation during idle moments, and the oddly gleeful chatter of the Handler, who brimmed with enthusiasm about a new recruit whose name she couldn’t quite recall. It all stirred the atmosphere within the place.

She wasn’t one to overlook the subtleties of office gossip. Gradually, she pieced together that the source of all this buzz was a newcomer. The people around her were not particularly skilled at keeping secrets; their careless murmurs and occasional slip-ups unveiled fragments of information about... him.

The rumors painted a captivating picture. He was said to be the sole survivor of a 2019 apocalypse, an event heralded as doomsday. Somehow, he had traveled forward in time, navigating a ravaged world alone for years. Whispers about a companion named Delores circulated, but these tales were quickly debunked ─ the man had arrived alone. Unfortunately, Yn had missed his arrival, having been on an extended mission at the time.

Upon her return, Dot could barely contain her excitement about the new recruit, who was already being hailed as a legend. The stories of his prowess were nothing short of remarkable, especially given his short time with the Commission. His skills had quickly surpassed those of several seasoned assassins, stirring both envy and admiration among his peers. Yn, however, found herself particularly captivated by his story, intrigued by the enigmatic figure who had endured so much.

The prospect of working alongside someone with such exceptional skills filled Yn with genuine excitement, a feeling that grew steadily when she learned that he had been assigned to her division.

On another late evening, Yn found herself enveloped in the soft glow of the office's dim light, listening intently to Dot’s animated recounting of the new recruit’s latest exploits. Dot’s eyes gleamed with excitement as she described the recruit’s recent mission, highlighting his exceptional ability to handle the demanding tasks set by the organization with remarkable skill and ease.

Yn’s thoughts wandered, picturing the trials he must have faced ─ bearing the solitary weight of being the last survivor and the immense strength needed to forge ahead alone. The notion of enduring such hardships, especially at a young age, evoked a profound sense of empathy within her.

But it wasn’t just his story that captivated her; it was the resilience woven into it.

She understood the relentless pressure of being thrust into a world that demanded more than one’s limits. Her own early days of recruitment had been fraught with the weight of preserving the timeline and the emotional toll of her work, as she struggled to adapt to a new reality. She could relate to his struggles, at least in part, and that kinship only deepened her small fascination.

"You don’t really mean that; you’re just stressed out," she said softly, her voice trembling slightly but remaining steady. "... I’ll give you some space for now. Just talk to me when you’re ready." As she walked toward the office door, her footsteps were almost hesitant.

"Yn, wait—" he began with a sigh, but his words were cut off as she gently closed the door behind her.

His name was Five, she discovered.

He was the same age as her, and yet despite working in the same expansive facility, she had not fully encountered him. He had been with the Commission for a month by now, but the large corridors and relentless demands of her duties had kept her from making more than fleeting glimpses of him. She’d seen his office and caught glimpses of him in passing, but her curiosity remained only partially satisfied.

Five. The name itself was enigmatic and intriguing. It seemed almost too simple for someone with a history as extraordinary as his. His reputation for exceptional combat skills, unparalleled intellect in solving cases, and the rare ability to time travel by himself unaided by the Commission only deepened her curiosity about him.

What was he like beyond the cold efficiency of his work? What was his true self like?

Yn knew he was special, gifted with extraordinary abilities ─ a truth she was familiar with. When she first joined the Commission, she had heard tales of children born under extraordinary circumstances, each endowed with powers that defied the ordinary. Back then, those stories felt like a myth. However, discovering that Five was one of these uniquely gifted individuals had rekindled her interest and dispelled her previous skepticism, transforming legend into a living reality.

Her curiosity was only piqued once more when she was summoned to the Handler’s office one evening. Dot, her voice filled with barely contained excitement, had informed Yn earlier in the day that her presence was required in the main office. Although Yn was uncertain about the reason for the summons, she couldn’t help but speculate that it might involve the mysterious, yet well-known Five.

The walk to the Handler’s office was brisk, punctuated by brief exchanges of pleasantries with her colleagues. Yn’s customary bright smile elicited warm responses as she passed by, her heels clicking sharply against the polished floors. Dot’s excitement was almost contagious, and Yn found herself feeling a twinge of anticipation as they approached the grand office.

Her relationship with the Handler was complex and multifaceted. Known for her favoritism toward select recruits, the Handler had a particular affinity for Yn. She often summoned her to the office for impromptu discussions, assigned her missions that seemed specially crafted for her skills, and frequently chose her for key roles within the division. Their relationship was characterized by a blend of mentorship and preferential treatment, creating a dynamic that was both supportive and marked by a distinct favoritism.

While they got along well enough, Yn couldn’t help but sense an undercurrent of unease beneath the Handler’s polished exterior. In spite of the pivotal role she played within the organization, she felt a persistent unease about the Handler’s motivations. And although her leadership was undeniably effective, contributing to the division’s smooth operation, Yn harbored suspicions that her decisions were often driven by self-serving motives rather than purely strategic or organizational interests.

Though, she refrained from voicing her concerns, well aware of the severe consequences faced by those who questioned the Handler. The atmosphere surrounding her office seemed to always be thick with an unspoken tension, leaving Yn with an internal shiver whenever she thought too deeply about it.

Arriving at the grand, imposing door of the Handler’s office, Dot knocked three times with practiced precision. Yn straightened her posture, drawing in a steadying breath to calm her nerves.

“Come in,” the Handler’s voice resonated from within, smooth and authoritative.

Yn pushed open the heavy door, stepping into the richly adorned office. Antique furniture and curious artifacts lined the room, each piece meticulously arranged. Behind a large mahogany desk sat the older woman, her sharp eyes gleaming as she regarded the two recruits. A delicate cup of tea rested in her right hand, steam curling up in soft tendrils.

“Yn, Dot..” she greeted, her voice carrying a subtle note of welcome as she set down the porcelain cup. “Please, have a seat.”

Yn and Dot settled into the plush chairs facing the desk. The Handler’s gaze lingered on Yn, a glimmer of something unspoken in her eyes. “Yn,” she began, her tone carrying a subtle hint of eccentricity. “I’ve summoned you here for a special small assignment, one that’s uniquely suited to your skills.”

“As you may have heard...” the Handler began, her tone carrying a hint of intrigue, “we have a new recruit ─ Five Hargreeves. He’s been making quite an impression, and I believe he would benefit from working closely with someone of your… experience. I need you to keep a close eye on him.” Her words were wrapped in an enigmatic quality, her gaze locked intently on Yn.

Yn's eyes widened slightly in surprise. "Oh.. well, then I'd be glad to assist," she replied, a small smile spreading across her face. Her assumption had been correct, though the task of 'keeping an eye on him' did feel somewhat peculiar.

The Handler’s expression softened into a rare smile, and she let out a soft chuckle. “I knew I could count on you. He shall join you on your next mission, which is only a few days away. You’ll receive the details in due time. Consider it an.. opportunity to assess his skills and see how well he integrates into our operations.” She raised her cup to her lips, taking a deliberate sip, her eyes never leaving the young woman infront of her.

Yn nodded, a flicker of excitement in her eyes that she quickly masked with composure. Her hands rested neatly in her lap. “Understood. I’ll ensure a thorough evaluation and report once we return.”

“Good,” the Handler said, leaning back in her chair with a satisfied sigh. “That will be all for now. You both may go.” She made a dismissive gesture with a slight flick of her wrist, her gaze drifting toward one of the grand windows that framed her office. “And Dot, don’t forget that report I asked for… two weeks ago,” she added, a small glimmer of annoyance in her voice.

“Y-Yes, ma’am! I’ll make sure to deliver it tomorrow morning,” Dot said, rising abruptly from the lounge chair, a smile spreading across her face.

With a small, anticipatory smile, Yn and Dot exited the office. As they walked back through the corridors, Dot’s enthusiasm bubbled over. “Looks like you’ll finally get to meet him, bestie! I’m thrilled for you,” she said, her excitement evident as she adjusted her glasses.

Yn chuckled, her mind buzzing with possibilities. Despite her own swirling thoughts, Dot’s excitement was a welcome comfort. “I guess so, Dot,” she replied, sharing in her friend’s infectious energy.

The next few days were a whirlwind of preparation. Yn immersed herself in the mission details, meticulously reviewing every aspect to ensure nothing was overlooked. A blend of anticipation and anxiety simmered within her. This mission was pivotal not just for its success but also for gaining insight into Five, whom she had yet to fully understand.

Finally, when the day had arrived, she found herself back in the Handler’s office, this time with Five beside her. He wore the standard Commission uniform with an effortless grace. His calm demeanor and composed expression were a striking contrast to her own slightly fluttering nerves. He exuded sophistication, his presence a blend of confidence that was both intimidating and captivating.

“Five,” the Handler began, her voice smooth and authoritative, “meet Yn. The woman I mentioned before. She will be your partner for this mission ─ and potentially beyond.” As she spoke, she continued to shuffle through papers on her desk with practiced efficiency.

Five turned to the Handler, his expression a mixture of surprise and resolve. “I don’t need a partner—”

“Ah, well, that’s a shame, isn’t it?” The Handler cut him off with a dismissive wave of her hand, before fixing her gaze on both of them. “Yn, Five has demonstrated exceptional skills thus far. I expect you two to work together seamlessly, understand?”

Yn exchanged a glance with Five, her posture straightening as she offered a small, reassuring smile. “Of course. We’ll do our best.”

Five rolled his eyes discreetly, his annoyance barely concealed beneath a facade of composure. The Handler observed their interaction with a tight-lipped smile, her gaze unwavering.

“Good,” she said, her tone leaving no room for error. “Your target is a high-profile individual. Unfortunately, the last two recruits I sent were unsuccessful. Precision and coordination are paramount. You both are the best we have, and I expect nothing less than perfection.”

With a practiced motion, she stood, retrieving a briefcase from beside her desk. Her eyes briefly met theirs, a silent reminder of the gravity of their task.

“Do not disappoint me,” the Handler said with a stern finality, her expression hardening before she quickly replaced it with her usual preppy smile. She handed Five the briefcase with a practiced grace.

Yn nodded, her gaze shifting to Five. He appeared slightly tense, his expression a blend of irritation and resignation, but he offered a curt nod in response. The Handler’s words lingered in the air, a weight of expectation pressing down on them.

As they exited the Handler’s office and began walking down the corridor, Yn turned to Five with a bright, enthusiastic smile. “So, this is exciting, isn’t it? Our first mission together! I’ve heard quite a bit about you. I’m Yn, though I’m pretty sure she mentioned that already. Just wanted to make sure you knew...” she added softly, her smile warm and genuine.

Five responded with a small scoff and a slight shake of his head, his eyes scanning the hallway ahead. One hand rested in his pocket, while the other gripped the handle of the briefcase with a tightness that betrayed his irritation.

Unfazed, she pressed on with her attempt at conversation. “I’ve been with The Commission for a while now,” she began, her voice light and conversational. “It’s a bit crazy, isn’t it? All the time travel and missions. I find it intriguing… well, except for all the killing and such. But what can you do, right?” She chuckled softly, her hands clasped behind her back as they walked in step through the corridor.

Turning to him with a curious look, she asked, “So, how are you finding it here so far?”

Five’s gaze remained forward, his demeanor reflecting clear irritation. “…It’s fine,” he mumbled, his tone flat and almost monotone. This was the last thing he needed, he thought.

They soon arrived at the armory, where the clatter of weapons and the hum of machinery filled the air. Yn began selecting her gear, her fingers moving with practiced ease over various items. She glanced at Five, hoping to bridge the gap between them.

“I’ve heard you can time travel without the equipment,” she said, her tone warm with genuine curiosity. “That’s pretty amazing. If you don’t mind me asking, how does it work exactly?” She continued to scan the array of weapons, her eyes lingering on a sleek butterfly knife and a sturdy pistol.

Five’s gaze shifted to her, his eyes narrowing slightly. “It’s complicated,” he replied curtly, a hint of defensiveness in his tone.

She chuckled softly, trying to lighten the mood. “I’m sure it is. But I’d love to hear more about it sometime. Maybe we can chat after the mis—” She began, picking up her chosen weapons and absently flicking the knife open and closed.

“Can we just focus on the mission?” Five cut in, his voice edged with impatience. He turned to her, a small frown creasing his brow as he met her gaze.

Yn stopped twirling the knife, her smile fading as she shifted her focus. “Right, sorry,” she said softly, her tone apologetic. She carefully stowed the knife and pistol in their respective places on her waistband.

Five shook his head with a dismissive sigh, his attention now fully absorbed in the assortment of weapons and gadgets before them. Yn sighed inwardly but kept her expression upbeat. Determined to break through his stoic exterior, she resolved to be patient and persistent, even if it took time.

“I’d be more than glad to help,” she said, her posture straight and her tone resolute as she made her offer. The conviction in her voice took him by surprise, though he quickly masked his astonishment. “But why?” he asked, his voice tinged with hesitation and doubt. They weren’t even entirely close, and this gesture seemed unexpected.

“It’s what you want, isn’t it? To save your family... leave this place behind,” she replied, her gaze steady and understanding. “If that’s your end goal, then I’d rather support you than stand in your way. I can see how much it means to you... even if you don't wanna admit it.” She concluded with a small, knowing smile, her eyes reflecting genuine empathy as she observed him.

The mission unfolded smoothly, a testament to the skill of its participants. Five outlined the plan with precise clarity, and Yn listened attentively, recognizing the thoughtfulness behind his strategy. She trusted his judgment implicitly, and it was clear she was right to do so.

Their operation proceeded as planned until an unexpected ambush forced them into combat. Yn typically dreaded these moments, but with Five’s expertise, the violence was manageable. The scene, grim and chaotic ─ blood spilled, the harsh clatter of her butterfly knife against flesh, Five’s grunts of exertion ─ was grim by any standard, but they remained focused, undisturbed by the carnage around them.

Even though their interactions were limited, Yn observed him closely. Amid the chaos, she noticed his fighting style ─ a unique rhythm, almost elegant in its precision. Despite the violence, Five fought with a fluid grace, seemingly detached from the brutality. He used his powers sparingly, only twice to bridge gaps between enemies, but his movements were so adept, he hardly appeared to struggle.

For anyone else, his detached demeanor might be unsettling. But for Yn, it sparked a flicker of admiration. His calm mastery, his ability to make violence seem almost like an art form. It seemed almost captivating.

As the last adversary had fallen and the tension began to ebb, she let out a deep breath, her face streaked with a few smudges of blood. She glanced at Five, her voice gentle yet laced with a note of relief. “Well, that went well, didn’t it?” she said softly, hoping for some acknowledgment.

Five, however, remained absorbed in his task, grunting softly as he wrested the briefcase from one of the unconscious assailants. The briefcase’s presence was a slight puzzle to Yn ─ she had no idea how it had ended up in the hands of their opponents, but Five's careful handling suggested he intended to be more vigilant with it in the future.

With a look of expectation, he turned his gaze toward the woman as he prepared the case for their return. Recognizing his unspoken cue, she straightened her disheveled appearance, her smile unwavering despite the blood staining her face. She walked over to him, maintaining her composure.

Five observed her quietly, his expression unreadable. After a moment, he shook his head slightly, almost imperceptibly. Both of them placed their hands on the briefcase, and with a synchronized effort, they were transported back to the Commission, leaving the battlefield behind.

They reappeared outside the briefcase room, the familiar yet unsettling sensation of the time jump still lingering in Yn's body. She took a few deep breaths, steadying herself. Though she had grown accustomed to these jumps, they still left her feeling disoriented sometimes. Beside her, Five exhaled quietly, seemingly unfazed, as he walked into the briefcase room to return the case. He discreetly glanced around at the other cases, taking note of their placements, before stepping back outside after a minute.

He paused briefly, surprised to see Yn still there, patiently waiting. She was wiping a few bloodstains from her clothes, humming softly to herself with a small, almost contented smile on her face.

Five let out a faint, quiet scoff, masking his curiosity with indifference. Without another word, he turned on his heel, heading toward the Handler's office. "Let's go," he ordered, his tone quiet but firm.

She snapped out of her thoughts, straightening her posture in surprise. She quickly fell into step beside him, her pace matching his as they made their way down the corridor.

The debriefing went swiftly. Both Yn and Five delivered their reports with precision, detailing the mission’s success. The Handler listened intently, her face lighting up with satisfaction at their feedback and accomplishments. She complimented them, her eyes glinting with a curious, almost predatory interest as she observed the two assassins.

When they were finally dismissed for the night, the Handler reminded Yn to submit her evaluation of Five the next morning. His face tightened into a faint scowl at the mention of the report, but he said nothing.

As the office doors closed behind them, the quiet hallway enveloped them, punctuated only by the faint hum of late-night activity within the building.

With a composed demeanor and a gentle smile, Yn turned to him. “At least that smoothly. I think we made a pretty good team." She paused for a moment, her gaze steady and sincere. “By the way, if you ever wanna talk or need anything, just know I’m here. I know adjusting can be tough—”

Without a word, Five continued walking, his back to her, making no move to acknowledge her offer. Her smile slighly faltered as she watched him retreat down the corridor. A sigh escaped her lips, her breath mingling with the cool air of the empty hallway.

“Well, goodnight then!” she called softly, her voice carrying a hint of disappointment. Despite her efforts to bridge the gap between them, it seemed Five preferred to remain distant. Yn stood alone for a moment longer, her eyes fixed on the shadowy figure of Five as he disappeared into the darkness, the corridor growing a bit colder in his absence. Maybe next time, she thought, holding on to a small glimmer of hope.

“I wonder what it’d be like to have your powers,” she mused with a chuckle, putting away a few files on her desk as she prepared to clock out for the night. The soft glow of the desk lamp cast gentle shadows around the room.

Five, leaning against a nearby wall with his hands in his pockets, stared at the ceiling. “They’re not that special,” he mumbled with a scoff.

She finished tidying her desk, casting a small, warm smile in his direction. “Well, I think they’re pretty cool, no matter what you say,” she said softly, her tone genuine.

His gaze shifted briefly toward her, his expression betraying a flicker of curiosity.

True to her word, the Handler had seen to it that, only two weeks after their initial mission, Yn and Five were officially assigned as partners. While they still occasionally undertook solo missions, more often than not, they found themselves side by side. Yn greeted the news with enthusiasm, though she couldn’t say the same for Five.

Life at the Commission soon settled into a monotonous rhythm for both Yn and Five, marked by a relentless cycle of missions and the increasingly predictable pattern of Yn’s attempts to break through Five’s stony exterior. She couldn’t fathom how a partnership could function without some semblance of camaraderie, so she took it upon herself to bridge that gap. Despite her persistent efforts, however, Five remained distant, his silence almost a rebuke to her cheerful attempts at friendship.

Some of her colleagues had cautioned her that trying to befriend him was a futile endeavor, pointing to his unyielding indifference toward her gestures of kindness.

But she dismissed their warnings with a quiet resolve, refusing to let their doubts seep into her spirit. Dot, ever supportive, continued to bolster her efforts, offering words of encouragement whenever uncertainty threatened to take root. Yn told herself that if Five truly wished for her to stop, he would voice it plainly. Yet, his responses ─ or the conspicuous absence of them ─ were limited to walking away or retreating into silence. To her, this was far from a defeat; in fact, she secretly considered his lack of outright rejection as a small, unspoken triumph.

And so it remained that way ─ until, inevitably, it didn’t.

The date marked nearly three months since Yn and Five had been paired as partners, a time filled with missions and tension. They had just returned from what could only be described as a near-disastrous mission. It had all been going smoothly until they separated to fulfill their respective roles. Yn's task was straightforward yet fraught with risk ─ she was to assassinate the final target. Five, on the other hand, was assigned to infiltrate the estate, gathering critical intel that would ensure the mission’s success.

As Yn prepared for the shot, a rare sense of anxiety settled over her. Despite her experience, this mission carried an unusual weight. One shot was all it would take, and failure was not an option. But as the moment of action approached, she faltered.

The target’s wife entered the scene, and through the scope, Yn saw something that gave her pause ─ the woman’s smile as she greeted her husband, the way they embraced, the contented sigh she let out. It was a simple, human moment, but it hit Yn like a punch to the gut.

Her hands trembled as she aimed the gun, her resolve crumbling. She couldn’t do it. Her body, usually so attuned to the demands of her job, refused to cooperate. The hesitation was costly. Security forces within the estate spotted her, forcing her to engage in a violent struggle that quickly drew the attention of her intended target. He barely made it out of the grand house before a bullet found him. His body crumpled to the ground, and as it did, Yn saw Five standing there, a small frown of anger creasing his face.

Without a word, Five appeared at her side, seamlessly joining the fray to eliminate the remaining security personnel with her. His movements were efficient, precise, a stark contrast to her earlier faltering. And as soon as the last threat was neutralized, Five grabbed her arm and, without a moment’s hesitation, used the case to return them to the Commission. The mission had been salvaged, but the tension between them hung in the air, heavy and unspoken.

That night had sparked an argument between them, though in hindsight, it was more a clash of frayed nerves than true animosity. The day had burdened them both with relentless stress, and the looming threat of failure had mingled with an unspoken fear of potentially losing each other… as partners of course. It was a volatile blend that inevitably boiled over.

Yet, as she reflected now, it was clear that without that night’s tension, the subtle shifts that followed might never have occurred. It was as if that moment of friction had unlocked something in their bond, something that would gradually reshape their future.

And it did. After that day, Yn had began to distance herself from Five, pulling back from her usual attempts to engage him following the words they had exchanged.

At first, he welcomed the newfound quiet, relishing the space she had granted him. But as the days turned into weeks, the hints of emptiness began to settle in ─ his routines, once merely solitary, now felt hollow in the absence of her persistent presence. It frustrated him that it had taken nearly half a year since his arrival to realize that, all along, she had been nothing but kind to him, even bringing him coffee out of simple, unreciprocated kindness.

Eventually, he couldn’t ignore the small void she had unintentionally left behind. So, he began to yield ─ little by little, he started responding more to her words, offering brief answers to a few of her questions. Though he tried to mask his intentions, to pretend that nothing had changed, Yn was perceptive. She noticed the subtle shift, and it warmed her heart to see him make the effort. Maybe, she thought, her persistence had finally paid off after all.

Five turned to look at her, a small, closed smile appearing on his face. “You really don’t give up, do you?”

Yn returned his smile with a warm one of her own. “If it means I get to see that smile of yours more often, then yeah, I’m not giving up.”

What began as a newly formed partnership and budding friendship gradually deepened into something far more profound ─ a bond marked by affection and love.

Nearly four years had passed since Five's arrival, with both now in their late twenties. How their relationship evolved to this point was almost a mystery, so natural and unexpected it was. There was no rushing, no planning of special days; everything unfolded organically, without them even realizing it until confessions were made during late-night talks in their offices ─ a ritual that had become part of their routine.

The Commission soon picked up on the shift. They noticed Yn’s brighter smile and Five’s subtle change in demeanor around her friends and colleagues. What caught their attention most was the increasing number of times they were seen together outside of work. The news only spread when Dot, eager to share the update about her best friend’s new relationship with the elusive assassin, let slip to some of her acquaintances. As the story circulated, more and more people became aware of their union.

It took considerable effort from Yn and a touch of intimidation from Five to stem the tide of gossip. They had to persuade their colleagues firmly and, in Five’s case, unwillingly make a few veiled threats to ensure that the news didn’t reach the Handler or become a matter of office chatter.

Those three famous words replayed in Yn’s mind often after they had been spoken. Five had been the one to say them first, catching her completely off guard.

She had been in the middle of a rant, her words tumbling out carelessly, when he suddenly interrupted her with that simple, yet earth-shattering declaration. She’d frozen up, stunned into silence, as she watched the panic flicker in his eyes, his awkward attempt to move on from the moment. But before either of them could overthink it, they shared a kiss ─ a kiss more meaningful than any other. She always reminisced about that day.

Being with him had brought her true happiness, but what she treasured most was the chance to truly understand him. To be one of the rare few who were close to the legendary Five Hargreeves.

It wasn’t the title that made her happy of course, but what it represented ─ his trust in her.

Five had eventually opened up to Yn about his past: the life he led before the apocalypse, the siblings he once fought beside, and the grueling years spent at the academy under the iron fist of his oppressive father. He shared the grim details of the apocalypse, the years he had endured in a world that was crumbling around him.

She even learned about his companion, Delores, who, to her surprise, truly existed ─ though not in the way she had once imagined.

Every revelation had brought them closer, slowly peeling back layers of Five’s stoic exterior. She listened as he recounted the challenges of growing up under such intense pressure, how the academy had shaped him, and how the isolation during the apocalypse had nearly driven him mad. Delores, a mannequin he had once loved, became a symbol of his desperate attempt to hold onto some semblance of normalcy in a desolate world.

Her heart ached for him as she realized just how much he had been through. She admired his resilience but also recognized the deep scars that his experiences had left behind. Despite all of it, she was still there, offering him the understanding and support he had long been deprived of.

One confession of hers always lingered in Five’s mind ─ the time she had offered to help him save his family, even before they had become a couple. It filled him with a sense of worth beyond his powers, knowing that someone as kind and admirable as Yn was by his side. Her willingness to stand by him, even when the odds seemed impossible, meant more to him than she could ever know.

In time, he shared his plan with her, every detail laid bare. And without a moment’s hesitation, she joined him, willing to leave the Commission behind and start a new life together. Though she seldom spoke of her life before the Commission, she knew that leaving it with him would be worth it ─ a step toward a new beginning.

All of it ultimately had led Yn toward her cherished goal of becoming a mother one day, to start a family with the man she knew she loved with all her heart. Little did she know how close this dream was to becoming reality, and the price she would have to pay for it.

She stared at the test in her shaky hands, her breath catching in her throat as the result slowly registered in her mind. It was positive.

The tiny plus sign on the strip seemed to burn into her vision, making her head spin. She had imagined this moment a few times before, but now that it was real, a wave of overwhelming emotions washed over her ─ shock, fear, and a flicker of something else she couldn’t quite place.

What would Five say? Would he be happy? Or would this news only add to the stress that already weighed heavily on him, especially with the endless equations he wrestled with, trying to find a way back home? Her thoughts had swirled in a chaotic spiral as she considered her options, eventually deciding on waiting it out. She’d tell him when the time was right ─ when he was a bit more at ease.

Two weeks had passed since that moment. Now, a few weeks into her first trimester, she still hadn’t told anyone, not even Dot. The secret weighed on her, but she carried it alone, choosing her words and actions carefully. She noticed that Five had started to pick up on her moments of distraction during their work, his concerned glances lingering on her as she zoned out during meetings or while analyzing cases.

It worried him, but he chalked it up to stress, something he was all too familiar with. As much as he tried to focus on the tasks at hand, he still couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off with Yn. Yet, he held back from asking, not wanting to add to whatever burden she was carrying.

Yn, on the other hand, had still found herself caught between wanting to share her news with Five and the fear of how it might affect him. The thought of their future together brought both joy and anxiety, and she knew that the conversation would change everything. But until she felt the time was right, she kept her secret close, hoping for the right moment to finally reveal the truth.

That fateful evening, a mission had been thrust upon them both, one that stood out as particularly treacherous. Their target: a high-ranking official in 1930s London. The mission, fraught with peril and intricacy, was conveyed to them by the Handler with an urgency that unsettled Yn. The usual meticulous preparation was replaced with a frantic rush, additional colleagues and assassins hastily brought in to assist. The pressure of it all weighed heavily on her, nearly suffocating in its intensity.

But in the midst of the chaos, Five stood by her side, his presence a steady anchor in the storm. The warmth of his hand as it grasped hers provided a fleeting sense of comfort, a reassurance that steadied her frayed nerves. Their eyes met as they were handed the briefcase, the unspoken understanding between them clear.

“See you on the other side, love,” he whispered softly, pressing a tender kiss to her forehead.

A smile touched her lips, a brief moment of solace amidst the turmoil. She gently brushed a stray lock of hair from his face, her fingers lingering as she cupped his cheek. “As always, amor,” she murmured, her voice filled with a quiet resolve.

He returned her smile, a small, closed expression that conveyed more than words ever could. And then, with a final kiss, they vanished into the unknown, the briefcase unlocking their passage into the heart of the mission.

They lay on the rooftop, the world below a distant hum as they rested after another mission. The night sky above them was a canvas of stars, more vivid and clear than ever.

Her eyes traced the constellations, her voice carrying a note of hope. “Do you think it’ll work? Us leaving this place for good?” she asked softly.

Five turned his head to look at her, taking in the sight of her bathed in the soft glow of moonlight. For a moment, he found her breathtaking. “I’m not sure yet,” he admitted, his voice thoughtful. “I still need time to figure it out. But we will… as long as you stick with me and I do the same...”

She lost him that night.

The mission, designed with precision, had unravelled into a grim spectacle of chaos and tragedy. They had been separated away from the others, and the ambush that followed was relentless. As Yn fought her way through the fray, she felt the crushing weight of each strike and the ever-increasing number of enemies. The alleyway, dimly lit and narrow, became a crucible of their suffering.

Amidst the cacophony of gunfire and rain, Five was shot while shielding her from harm. The bullet’s impact seemed to shatter the fragile barrier between life and death. Yn’s mind was a maelstrom of fear and helplessness as she saw him stagger, blood staining his hands, his face etched with a painful resolve. His final moments were spent reassuring her with a promise to reunite, a promise that would never be fulfilled.

The rain continued to fall, indifferent to their plight, as she clutched him in her arms, her cries piercing the night. The agony of his loss was magnified by the brutality of her actions. Consumed by a blind rage, she had unleashed a vengeful fury upon the assailants who had stirred from unconsciousness. Her anger morphed her into a merciless avenger, the scene growing increasingly gruesome with each act of retribution.

The sight of a wedding ring on one of her fallen foes only fueled her anger, intensifying her wrath against a world that had stolen her love away from her.

The blood that soaked her clothes and hands served as a haunting reminder of the night’s horrors. When Dot and the other recruits had finally arrived, alerted by the delay of the two assassins, they found Yn amidst the aftermath, a lone figure in a sea of carnage. The scene was eerily quiet, save for the sound of rain pattering against the cobblestones, mingling with the crimson stains that painted the ground. Dot could only do nothing but cradle her shattered friend, her own heart breaking as Yn wept for her fallen partner.

“H-He's gone. He's really gone, Dot,” Yn had whispered, her voice barely audible through her sobs as she wept in her friend’s arms. The embrace, warm and familiar, somehow failed to bring the comfort she so desperately yearned for. His comfort.

Dot’s heart shattered at her friend’s words, a deep ache spreading through her chest. “I-I know. I know, love. I'm so sorry,” she whispered back, her voice trembling as she fought to keep herself composed.

“I never even told h-him…” Yn’s voice broke, the weight of her unspoken truth adding to her sorrow.

Dot’s confusion at the statement was fleeting, replaced by an overwhelming wave of empathy. She looked up at the others, tears forming in her own eyes as she held Yn closer. Herb and the rest of the team could only watch the scene with heavy hearts, their own grief mingling with sympathy.

They had lost one of their own that night, and the weight of that loss hung heavily in the air.

Have you ever heard the tale of two swans? One was as bright as freshly fallen snow, while the other was as dark as a moonless night. They lived on a tranquil lake, where the sun’s light danced across the water’s surface. The white swan was a beacon of sunlight, her graceful movements infusing life and light into the world around her. In contrast, the black swan bore the weight of shadows, his eyes mirroring the deep, somber sorrow of twilight, as if carrying the burdens of a cold and indifferent world.

Swans, it is said, find their mates for life. And though these two were as different as day and night, they were drawn together by a force that neither could resist. The white swan’s brightness softened the black swan’s gloom, while his depth gave her a new understanding of the world. They became the perfect counterpart to one another, a delicate balance of light and dark.

But as with all tales of love and loss, their time together was fleeting. The black swan, burdened by his own melancholy, grew weaker and eventually slipped into the stillness of death, leaving the white swan to mourn alone. There is a saying that swans give up when they lose their mate, but the white swan refused to surrender to despair. In her dreams, she saw him waiting on the edge of the lake, a shadow calling her back.

And so, she swam on, believing that their love was not bound by the limits of this world, but destined to reunite by fate, no matter how long it took.

The weeks following that night felt irrevocably altered, as though something fundamental had been lost. While only her closest friends sensed the void, it was undeniable: Yn had lost more than just a partner. She had lost a part of herself. Her light, her guiding moon. Everything that had once illuminated her world ─ was gone.

Discussions of Five’s passing were always weighed down with solemnity, spoken in hushed tones and soft whispers to avoid further distressing the grief-stricken Yn. The Handler had refrained from calling her in, adding to the sense of quiet that enveloped her. During this period, she had withdrawn from missions, spending her days confined to her quarters, while Dot provided steadfast support, her daily check-ins offering a small measure of comfort amid Yn’s profound sorrow. She resolved to properly express her gratitude to Dot someday.

As more weeks of solitude had passed, Yn’s growing stomach became increasingly noticeable, making it clear that she could no longer keep her condition a secret. Not that she had ever really planned to.

Surprisingly yet, she began to ease back into work, solving only a few cases here and there. Yet, the thought of returning to full-scale missions had seemed distant and unattainable. She couldn’t envision herself diving back into that world anytime soon.

When she officially had returned, her colleagues quickly noticed the changes in her. She was quieter, more reserved, and the brightness that once lit up her smile had dimmed. Her eyes, once filled with a lively spark, now held a subdued melancholy. Though her caring nature remained intact, it was tinged with a softness that hadn’t been there in a while.

The news of her pregnancy, discreetly shared by Dot with Yn’s permission, only deepened their understanding of her transformation. They often saw her gently cradling her growing stomach as she spoke with others, a tender gesture that contrasted with the weight of her loss. Despite everything, Yn still had extended a helping hand whenever her colleagues needed support, her compassion unwavering, though now shaded with the quiet strength of someone who had endured profound sorrow.

They had arranged a small welcome-back week for Yn, nothing extravagant, just a gesture to show their support and care. Dot and Herb had spearheaded the idea, wanting to comfort her during this difficult time. Though Dot nervously denied any relationship with Herb, Yn wasn’t fooled. She saw the affection in their interactions, recognizing the love between them, even if they hadn’t realized it yet. It was reminiscent of how she and Five had been before they got together. A part of her envied them, but she chose not to dwell on it, unwilling to descend into that sorrowful comparison.

That week passed quickly, but the one that followed brought an unwelcome tension. With Five gone, it was inevitable that someone would try to take his place as the best in their division. Unfortunately, it had to be a guy whose name Yn barely bothered to remember. She recognized him, though ─ the one who always glared at Five during meetings, muttering under his breath and plotting to outshine him. His envy had been palpable, and now, with Five gone, he seemed almost gleeful.

She was on her way to Dot's office when their paths crossed. He spotted her first, his smirk widening as he stopped, blocking her way. “Well, if it isn't Mrs. Sunshine herself. Oh wait, you're not a Mrs anymore, huh?” His voice dripped with mockery, each word carefully chosen to sting.

Yn paused, her gaze narrowing as she turned to face him fully. “What did you say?” Her voice was low, a warning.

“You heard me,” he sneered, taking a step closer, his voice dripping with malice. “What? What's with the glare? Your man isn’t here to cuddle you when you’re sad anymore? Aw, how tragic.” His tone was sharp, mocking. As his words hung in the air, a small crowd began to form at a respectful distance, sensing the tension.

Yn’s heart pounded in her chest, her grief and anger simmering just beneath the surface. He wasn’t done yet, though. His eyes flicked down to her growing stomach, and the smirk on his face turned vicious. “I'm sure it'll be sad for that child of yours too, no? Having to grow up fatherless—”

He didn’t get to finish. The sound of her fist connecting with his jaw echoed through the hall, followed by a sharp intake of breath from the onlookers. He staggered back, clutching his face, shock and pain flickering in his eyes as blood began to trickle from his nose. The once-smug expression was replaced with disbelief as he struggled to regain his footing, staring at Yn in stunned silence.

She stepped forward, her voice cold and unwavering. “You don't get to speak about him or our child. Ever.” She glanced down at him, now slumped against the wall, her eyes narrowing slightly before she straightened her posture, smoothing her jacket's sleeves with a practiced grace. A small, almost satisfied smile curved her lips. “I'm sure our boss can deal with you from here.”

Without another word, Yn turned and walked away, leaving him and the stunned crowd in her wake. She didn’t look back, her steps confident and unhurried as she continued toward Dot's office, her mind already moving beyond the encounter, focusing instead on what truly mattered. Though, a closed smile appeared on her face. How cool was that, she thought.

The months that followed passed in a blur, filled with their own set of challenges and small joys. Yn navigated the pain of her growing baby, the sharp, unexpected kicks a constant reminder of the new life within her. Sleepless nights often plagued her, her dreams haunted by memories and nightmares of Five. Yet through it all, he remained ever-present in her thoughts, a constant companion in her heart.

The day she gave birth was a mixture of profound pain and overwhelming joy. With Dot by her side, offering support and comfort, Yn held her baby girl for the first time. The sight of the tiny, delicate face with her father's eyes brought tears to her eyes. Cradling her daughter in her arms, she was flooded with a wave of emotion that made the pain of childbirth fade into the background. The spark that had seemed lost during those dark months flickered back to life.

And that spark only grew stronger as the years passed. It now marked four years since the birth of her daughter and nearly five since Yn had lost her beloved counterpart. She had named her daughter Odette, inspired by her favorite tale of the two swans ─ a story she felt a profound connection to. Odette, in turn, grew to love the tale as well, often requesting her mother to read it to her.

She carried her father's last name, a small but significant gesture by Yn to keep his presence alive. She was more than just a reminder of Five; she was a living embodiment of him. From her eyes to her smile, she mirrored him unmistakably.

Yet her spirited defiance and curiosity, traits so vividly reminiscent of Yn herself, shaped her unique character. Together, these traits made Odette a perfect blend of both her parents. A tangible piece of Five that would always remain with them.

Odette breathed new life into Yn, rekindling the smile and joy she had lost. As her daughter grew older, she proudly introduced her to some of her colleagues. The young girl quickly took a special liking to Dot, who she affectionately regarded as an aunt.

Those around her couldn’t help but notice the remarkable transformation that occurred whenever she brought her daughter along. The once-muted spark in her eyes seemed to reignite, and the spirit and vitality that had once defined her returned in full force. With Odette by her side, Yn radiated a renewed energy, a testament to the profound impact her daughter had on her life.

Her friends and colleagues took pride in this progress, none more so than Dot and her newly announced husband, Herb. Yn had always suspected that Dot and Herb were destined for each other, and seeing their happiness only served to amplify her own.

Dot, however, knew her friend too well to be fooled by her composed exterior. She noticed the subtle longing in Yn’s eyes whenever she watched couples around them ─ a silent yearning that spoke volumes. Deeply worried for her friend, Dot resolved to address this unspoken sadness. So, determined to uplift Yn’s spirits, Dot had been collaborating with Herb on a plan for the inevitable. Their efforts were driven by the desire to bring a bit of joy and warmth back into Yn’s life, a gesture to remind her of the happiness she permanently deserved.

Now, as Dot stood at Yn’s door with a briefcase in hand and a hopeful smile on her face, the moment had finally arrived to put their plan into action.

Yn was jolted from her somber reverie by a knock that drew her from the depths of her reflections. Her mind, having been absorbed in vivid, melancholic recollections of the past few years, was momentarily disrupted by the unexpected sound.

Her habit of deep contemplation, honed through years of grappling with grief, had become a regular occurrence during her solitary moments. This subtle undercurrent of sorrow still lingered beneath the facade she maintained around others, save for her daughter, who was spending the day with Dot. The break was meant to be a well-deserved respite, a chance for Yn to step away from her responsibilities and unwind. Yet, as she lay alone in her loft, the quiet was filled with a flood of memories rather than peace.

With a weary sigh, Yn rose from her bed and switched on the lamp beside her. The soft glow dispelled the encroaching darkness, casting a gentle light across the room. As she moved toward the door of her small loft, her footsteps echoed softly in the quiet.

When she opened the door, she was greeted by Dot, whose face was brightened by a warm and inviting smile. Dot held a briefcase in her hands, the enigmatic glint in her eyes hinting at a purpose behind her visit that went beyond a mere social call.

“Hi, bestie!” Dot exclaimed with infectious enthusiasm, her smile beaming brightly. She seemed on the verge of bouncing with excitement.

Yn looked at her with a hint of confusion. “Hi, Dot. Where’s my daughter?” she asked, half expecting to see Odette right behind her friend.

“Oh, don’t worry about her,” Dot reassured her with a gentle smile. “She’s fast asleep. I made sure Herb checked in on her, so you don’t have to worry.” She then adjusted her grip on the briefcase, holding it with both hands as if presenting a treasured gift. Her eyes sparkled with a blend of excitement and urgency. “I need your help with something,” she said, her voice carrying a note of earnest appeal.

Yn’s gaze fell on the briefcase, and she let out a long, weary sigh. “Dot, you know I don’t take on missions anymore.”

Dot quickly interjected, her tone insistent. “I promise, this isn’t a mission. I just need your help with talking to someone for a report. I know I could have asked anyone else, but—”

Yn cut in, her patience wearing thin. “Dot, you don’t need to—”

Dot pressed on, her voice carrying a blend of determination and sincerity. “You’re the only one I truly trust with this. Wanda’s off on her honeymoon, and that leaves Harold, who.. let’s be honest, has a knack for forgetting things. And as much as I value his help, between us, he’s not the best at keeping details straight. Plus, this report would really benefit from your insight—”

“Fine!” Yn interrupted Dot’s rambling, her resolve finally breaking. “I’ll do it, okay? Would that make you happy?” A hint of a smile appeared on her face, softening her expression.

Dot’s face lit up with genuine delight at Yn’s response. “Trust me, this makes me very happy.” Her gaze fell on Yn’s casual appearance. “But before you head out, go grab a jacket. It might be chilly where we’re going.”

Y/N sighed, a small, resigned smile tugging at the corners of her lips. She turned away, heading to her closet to retrieve her jacket, her movements deliberate as she mentally prepared herself for what lay ahead. When she returned to the front door, she grabbed the briefcase from her friend, her fingers brushing against a small note that had been tucked underneath.

“Almost forgot to mention!” Dot said with a quick, bright smile, “It’d be better off if you went by yourself. I promise to take care of Odette while you’re away, okay? Oh, and apologies for any age regressions. It was the only way, I swear!” Dot’s words tumbled out in a rush, her playful wink adding a touch of lightheartedness to the situation.

Before Yn could respond at what she just said, Dot opened the briefcase and backed away. A flash of light enveloped her, causing her to disappear in an instant, leaving Dot standing alone with a satisfied grin.

The landing wasn’t graceful by any means. It had been some time since she last felt the jarring impact of a jump. The cold, unyielding concrete greeted her back as she hit the ground, the briefcase skidding to a stop beside her.

A groan escaped her lips as she opened her eyes, trying to make sense of her surroundings. She was in a lonely alley way. It was night, the stars above twinkling in the crisp air. The chill in the air seeped through her clothes, though she was grateful she had brought her jacket ─ despite it feeling slightly looser now that she had a moment to think.

Dot’s last words suddenly echoed in her mind, prompting her to sit up and examine herself. She had indeed regressed physically. Judging by the familiar feel of her body, she estimated she was close to twenty again. How she knew this was unclear ─ the knowledge had simply surfaced in her mind, as if planted there. The realization drew a sigh of frustration from her.

“Great. Just what I needed,” she muttered under her breath, releasing another sigh as she pushed herself to her feet. She reached down, grabbing the briefcase and staring at the note that had been hidden beneath it. With a curious frown, she picked it up and unfolded it, immediately recognizing her friend’s familiar handwriting.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ It’ll be worth it !!!

That was all it said, a simple message alongside a smiley face, an address, and an apartment number. The brevity of it puzzled her, but she shrugged it off, assuming it was just her friend's way of offering some encouragement. Folding the note carefully, she tucked it away and began to make her way out of the alley. As she walked, a strange new feeling tugged at her heart, something she couldn’t quite put into words yet.

The walk to the apartment was short, the address conveniently close by. She found herself enjoying the quiet stroll, the crisp night air, and the glow of the city around her. The pretty lights of closed shops and streetlamps reflected off the puddles of water on the ground, remnants of an earlier rain. For once, her mind was still, her usual whirlwind of thoughts subdued as she soaked in the peaceful surroundings. And before she knew it, she was now standing in front of the door marked with the number from the note.

The place felt oddly familiar, almost as if she were experiencing deja vu, despite never having been there before. She took a deep breath, steadying herself, and knocked gently ─ five small taps. It was a habit she’d picked up after meeting Five, a subtle, playful signal that it was her at the door.

She listened as the faint sound of footsteps approached, stopping just on the other side of the door, lingering as if the person hesitated. The pause made sense, though, the moment the door swung open.

And there he stood. Alive and breathing.

It took her several moments to even process what she was seeing. It didn’t feel real ─ it couldn’t be. She had been there in his final moments, holding him as the last breath left his body, his life slipping away in her arms. How could he possibly be standing here now? But there he was, unmistakably him, looking slightly younger than when they had first met.

His eyes, those familiar, piercing eyes she had longed for every day since his death, were now locked onto hers, brimming with a whirlwind of emotions ─ surprise, grief, shock. Seeing him again sent a jolt through her heart, unearthing a longing she had buried deep within herself.

This had to be a dream, she thought, a painfully vivid dream. There could be no other explanation. She was on the verge of convincing herself of this, of dismissing the surreal moment as nothing more than a cruel trick of her mind.

But then, just as her thoughts reached a fever pitch, everything came to a sudden, startling halt when he spoke.

“Yn?” His voice was a whisper, so soft it was almost lost in the space between them, yet it carried the weight of a thousand emotions. There was a tremor of hesitance, a desperate plea woven into the single word, as though he couldn’t bear for this moment to be anything but true.

He’d spoken her name like a lifeline. And that was all it took.

Have you ever watched a Studio Ghibli movie? The way characters embrace, with a weightless, almost ethereal quality, filled with a love so profound it borders on desperation ─ something so pure, so perfect, it feels almost unreal? That’s the only way she could describe what happened next.

Her hands, trembling uncontrollably, released the briefcase, letting it clatter to the floor as tears welled up in her eyes. In an instant, she was in his arms, launching herself at him with a gentle force that belied the intensity of her emotions.

The impact pushed him back, and he leaned against the couch for support, his arms instinctively wrapping around her. It wasn’t just a hug; it was an outpouring of everything they had both held back, a reunion that seemed impossible, now made real. In that moment, nothing else existed but the warmth of his embrace and the overwhelming relief of having him back.

It was like a forgotten melody, a touch so familiar yet distant that it brought tears to her eyes. She buried her face against him, her emotions overwhelming her after so many years of longing. It was as though time had folded in on itself, pulling her back to the moments they had shared ─ those quiet embraces when he would hold her close to soothe her fears, or when he sought solace in her arms, or the way they’d cling to each other before sleep claimed them.

Yet, even in this moment of overwhelming emotion, she sensed the subtle difference in his hold. As much as she wanted to believe that this was truly her Five, she knew it wasn’t.

She refused to deceive herself with comforting lies. But the sensation of his arms around her, the sight of him breathing once more, was enough to make her ignore that truth, if only for a moment. She felt his arms tighten around her, as though he, too, was desperate to hold onto this fleeting connection. And he was.

Unbeknowst to her, in this timeline, Five had lost her too, but the circumstances were even more devastating. They had been married in this world, their connection deepened by vows and shared dreams. But her death had been a cruel twist of fate, even more tragic because he hadn’t been there to save her. By the time he found her, the life they had built together was already shattered, the light in her eyes extinguished.

The pain of losing her, the one person who had made the chaos of his existence bearable, was a weight he couldn’t carry. The organization they had both served now felt like a prison, a constant reminder of the price he had paid. So he did the only thing he could ─ he walked away. Not just to escape the unbearable memories, but to honor the goal she had always believed in: saving his family, the one mission that had always mattered to him.

Her words, spoken with love and determination before that fateful night, became his lifeline. She had promised that they would see each other again, a promise that kept him going through the darkest of times. With that promise echoing in his mind, he returned to his timeline, a sixteen-year-old boy again, at least physically, carrying the scars of a life lived far too fast. He fought for his family, saving the world not once, but twice, driven by the hope that somehow, in some way, he would fulfill the vow they had made to each other.

Four years had passed since the harrowing events at Hotel Obsidian, when he’s been rid of his powers ─ a release that should have brought peace. Yet, a lingering emptiness remained, a deep ache in his soul that no achievement could ever truly fill.

And now, against all odds, here she was, cradled in his arms. She wasn’t exactly his girl, but she was unmistakably her in every way that mattered. It felt as though fate had woven its threads to bring them together for this fleeting, bittersweet reunion.

They both understood that this moment wasn’t meant to last, but for now, it was a precious gift. The chance to hold each other again was a final farewell, a way to honor the love that had once been the center of their worlds. They lingered in that embrace, neither willing to let go, as if parting would shatter the fragile reality they had managed to reclaim.

But with an unspoken agreement, their eyes met, and slowly, their lips found each other in a kiss that was both fervent and tender.

It was a mix of deep longing and careful delicacy, as if they were made of fragile porcelain, afraid that any sudden movement might break the bond they had just rediscovered. The kiss bore the weight of lost time and unspoken regrets, a bittersweet acknowledgment of a love that had once meant everything ─ a tentative step toward healing the trauma they had both inevitably faced and shared.

When they finally pulled away, it was with a hesitant urgency, both fearing the other might disappear, as if the moment had been nothing more than a dream.

A quiet, almost disbelieving chuckle escaped them both. With eyes shimmering and full of tears, they whispered in perfect unison, “You're alive.”

To anyone else, the words might have sounded grim, a strange thing to say with such relief. But for them, it was more than just an observation ─ it was a confirmation, a shared acknowledgment of the impossible moment they were living.

“I am,” they said in unison again, their voices soft but laden with mutual relief. A small, genuine smile touched their lips.

“How did you find me?” he asked quietly, his voice tinged with curiosity and wonder. Yn’s mind raced, piecing together why her best friend had been so insistent on sending her on this unexpected visit. She looked away briefly, lost in thought, before meeting his gaze again. “Dot did,” she said simply, her expression thoughtful.

Recognition and understanding flickered across his face. “She’s alive?” he asked quietly, a mix of surprise and confusion in his voice. Yn tilted her head slightly, her brow furrowing with genuine curiosity. “Well, why wouldn’t she be?”

He sighed, his face a canvas of conflicting emotions as he looked at her. “Long story, love,” he murmured, the term of endearment slipping out naturally as he gently tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear, as if it were part of their unspoken language.

Yn’s smile only deepened, her eyes shining with a warm, nostalgic light. Hearing him use that term again brought a bittersweet comfort. “I’ve got time,” she replied softly, her tone inviting him to share more.

Remember the tale of the two swans? Even amidst the loss, the white swan held onto the belief that they were destined to meet again. In a way, their story mirrored this. Though fate had separated them, it had overlooked one truth: the possibility of reunion, whether in life or death. While no one could truly alter fate, that didn’t mean hope was in vain.

They proved this belief true. Though they were no longer fated to be each other’s, destiny had never decreed they couldn’t forge a new path together. The path ahead would be long and fraught with challenges, but even if they could never fully reclaim what they had lost, having another version of each other was a gift beyond measure.

It was a bittersweet acknowledgment that while they might never fully reclaim the past, the chance for a new beginning made every step of the journey worthwhile.

Three months had quietly unraveled since that singular encounter, each day slipping by like sand through fingers, leaving behind an unfamiliar yet comforting residue of contentment. It was a feeling neither of them had tasted in what felt like ages, a gentle calm that settled in the spaces where anxiety once reigned.

During this time, it was no surprise that Yn remained in contact with Five. Their connection, fragile yet persistent, was nurtured through careful secrecy. With Dot’s clever assistance, they managed to keep their rendezvous hidden, safely out of the Commission's sight ─ a vital necessity, for Yn was determined to shield him from the shadows of that life again.

Dot's ingenuity extended beyond mere meetups; she devised a way for Yn to send letters to Five whenever the tides of their busy lives pulled them apart. Each letter was a memorable, tethering them to one another across the distance, allowing their bond to reflourish quietly. And now, those letters had led them to this very moment, standing together outside Yn’s new home, anticipation in the air,

Five, usually so composed, found himself uncharacteristically nervous, a rare sight for someone who had faced the end of the world more than once. But the reason for his unease was clear.

Over those three months, countless conversations and reassurances had chipped away at his reluctance, finally giving him the courage to face a reality he had long avoided: meeting his daughter. It was not an easy decision. The idea of stepping into a role that once would’ve belonged to another version of himself had weighed heavily on him. He feared it might feel like replacing someone, a ghost of his own making.

Yet, despite his trepidation, curiosity still gnawed at him. A longing to know this person who shared his blood, but not his past.

Standing on that threshold, the soft patter of rain on the porch creating a delicate symphony around him, Five was suddenly transported back to another time, many years ago. He could almost feel the weight of a ring in his trembling hand, hear the murmur of vows as they escaped his lips, each word woven with threads of love and fear.

That moment, when he stood before his past lover, was etched into his memory with a clarity that time could never dull. And now, as the rain whispered against the ground, he felt the same mix of emotions stir within him, knowing that once again, he was on the brink of something that could change everything.

“Yeah, no, I can't do this.” Five muttered, his voice tight with sudden panic as he tried to turn and walk away. But before he could take more than a step, a gentle hand caught his arm, pulling him back with a softness that contrasted the storm brewing inside him.

The woman beside him, her eyes warm with understanding, smiled softly at his flustered demeanor. “It’ll be fine, I promise,” she assured him, her voice carrying a calm certainty that made his doubt seem almost foolish.

“How can you be so sure, though?” he questioned, his eyes searching hers for the reassurance he so desperately needed.

“Uh, I birthed her?” she replied with a teasing lilt, her smile growing as she tilted her head slightly. “I wouldn’t doubt her for a second, okay, love?” She leaned in, placing a soft kiss on his cheek, her lips lingering just long enough to leave a trace of warmth. “But… if you do feel like this is too much, then I won’t force you.”

Five hesitated, his eyes darting away as he wrestled with the weight of his emotions. But then, with a deep breath, he looked back at her, steeling himself. “No, no… it’s fine. I can do this.”

She gave him one last reassuring smile before turning to knock on the door. Within moments, the door swung open, revealing Dot, her face lighting up with excitement at the sight of them.

“Well, look who finally decided to show up!” Dot teased, her eyes twinkling as she stepped aside to let them in. “Come on in, you two. We’ve been waiting forever!”

Yn stepped inside first, Five trailing close behind, his nerves still coiled tightly. They shrugged off their coats, hanging them neatly on the rack. But before they could even gather their thoughts, the sound of tiny, hurried footsteps echoed from the hallway, accompanied by the soft giggles of a child.

Yn’s heart swelled at the familiar sound, and soon enough, a tiny head peeked around the corner, wide eyes brimming with curiosity, before breaking into a wide smile when she spotted her mother.

“Mama!” Odette squealed with delight, her little legs carrying her swiftly across the room. Yn dropped to her knees, her face softening into a warm smile as she opened her arms wide.

“There’s my little swan,” she greeted her, her voice tender as she scooped her daughter into a tight hug. Odette’s arms wrapped around her neck, her giggles muffled against Yn’s shoulder. “I missed you, my love,” she whispered, pressing a kiss to the top of her daughter’s head, savoring the sweet moment.

“I missed you more, Mama,” Odette giggled, hugging her mother tightly. After a moment, she eased back just enough to peek up at the man standing a few feet away. Her little face scrunched in curiosity before her gaze shifted back to her mother, her eyes narrowing slightly as if lost in thought.

Five stood a short distance away, watching the scene unfold with a mix of awe and emotion. It felt surreal, like he was witnessing something he never thought possible. The little girl had his eyes, even that familiar smile he wore in moments of joy. The sight filled him with a profound sense of completeness, yet left him slightly stunned, as if he were still trying to fully grasp the reality of it all.

Dot, sensing the need for some privacy, offered a knowing smile. “Well, I’ll leave you three to catch up. I’ve got a few things to wrap up at the Commission,” she said, waving as she backed toward the door. “Take care, and we’ll catch up soon, alright?”

“Thanks, Dot,” Yn said, her smile full of gratitude as she watched her friend leave.

Now, with just the three of them in the room, the atmosphere shifted slightly. Odette, who had been entirely absorbed in her mother’s embrace, suddenly turned her attention back to the unfamiliar figure nearby. Her curious eyes studied him for a moment before she cautiously inched closer. There was a brief pause, as if something clicked in her young mind, and then, without warning, she bolted forward.

Five instinctively crouched down, still stunned by the sudden movement. “Whoa—” he began, his voice faltering as Odette launched herself into his arms, hugging him tightly. The shock on his face quickly softened, and he hesitantly wrapped his arms around her, his heart swelling with an emotion he had almost forgotten.

She squealed with joy, her small voice bright as she nuzzled into his shoulder. Looking up at him with wide, innocent eyes, she asked, “Are you my mommy's boyfriend?”

Five blinked, caught off guard. “Uh... yeah, I suppose so,” he replied, slightly bewildered. Odette beamed and hugged him even tighter. “That means you’re my daddy!” she declared with the certainty only a child could have, her innocent enthusiasm filling the room.

He chuckled softly, a sense of ease enveloping him as he hugged her back, the weight of his past worries melting away. “I guess it does, huh, little one?” he murmured, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

Yn watched the scene with tears brimming in her eyes, overwhelmed by the sight before her. This was the moment she had dreamed of, and seeing it come to life was more than she could have ever hoped for.

Odette, brimming with energy, quickly pulled away and started chattering excitedly. “Mama told me about you! She said you’re really strong, have pretty eyes like me, and have super cool powers! Can you show me? Please?” she begged, her eyes sparkling with excitement.

Five hesitated, his smile tinged with a hint of regret. “I wish I could, sweetheart, but I can’t right now. Maybe another time, okay?” he gently declined, ruffling her hair.

Odette’s face fell slightly but then brightened again. “Okay… But you’re staying with us, right? Forever?” she asked, her voice full of hope.

Five looked into her big, expectant eyes and nodded. “As long as you’d like me to,” he promised, pulling her close once more.

Yn watched them, tears finally spilling over ─ tears of happiness, relief, and love. The family she had dreamed of for so long was now becoming a reality, and seeing it all unfold was more than she could have imagined. In that moment, as she observed the genuine connection and warmth between them, everything had felt perfectly aligned.

‎

#five hargreeves #five hargreeves x reader #the umbrella academy #the umbrella academy x reader #reader insert #fem reader #imagine #fanfic #aidan gallagher

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mooooonnnzz · 26 days

Note

Hi I just wanna say I read the Dad! Stanley hcs you did and it was sooo goood I loved every bit of it.

I was wondering if you could do a bit of an angsty request where Stanley's child is in there late teens an gets possesed by Bill, like what do you think his reaction would be, since when dipper got possesed by bill, bill physicaly injured dippers body a lot and was just genuinely careless with his body. Also I have no idea when the reader would be possesed by bill mabey after Ford is back to make things extra angsty since ford knows of bill, idk do whatever you like with this request I just like angst with for no reason whatsoever.

Also I did try to find if you had any request rules but I couldn't find any so if you do have rules and this request is something you don't feel comfortable writing then please just ignore this request, I hope you have a brilliant day or night :D.

Another thing I just wanted to mention is I'm sorry for how long this request is.

Far From The Weight of The World

Dad!Stanley Pines x Teen!Reader

❀ 9,1k words its a loottt so if ur ready to hunker down and read a whole bunch this is for u!!

❀ guess who finished far from the weight of the world THIS GUYYY

❀ it wouldn't have ever seen the light of day if it wasn't for @raventeen they helped me sm!! like they helped every single step of the way and chose the direction of where this should go so big thanks to them <3

❀ i hope you all enjoy this! :3

❀ possible tw: description of skin melting off, throwing up blood, self inflicted harm, more blood, uhh broken bones? even more blood

❀ gn!reader

❀ i love dad stan pines smmm

❀ requests r still open hehe

“Sweetheart!” Stan’s footsteps could be heard thumping on the ground towards you. You marched forwards, your throat painfully knotted in a ball, suppressing your sobs and swallowing your words. Your head swirled with the word liar, spinning around hastily. Whispers of Mable and Dipper could be heard distantly behind you, their concerned eyes digging holes right through you. Too swept up by your wind of emotions you ignored their worried looks.

“We can talk about this, kiddo. Just give me a second.” His fingers curl against your arm but you yank it away before he’s able to wrap them around you. “What do you want, Dad?” You promptly turned around, glassy eyes somberly staring into his wide ones. “Can you please give me a chance. Hear me out,” his voice cracked at the end, his hands twitching to desperately reach out to you and prevent you from taking another step further away from him. “I don’t know If I can trust you, Dad.” Uttering that sentence shattered something within you. Not once have you thought of yourself ever telling your very own dad that you don’t trust him. He had never given you a reason to distrust him. To you, all his past lies were seen as truth to you, undeniable facts that couldn’t be broken apart because his word carried high validity, to you at least. But now, you’re not even sure that he’s telling you the truth right now.

Ford’s heavy shoes sounded on the creaky wooden floors, announcing his presence wordlessly. “[Name], dear. Listen to your father.” He adds. He looked at you with an analytical stare, twisting your stomach inside out. You didn’t like how he looked at you like you were one of his captured anomalies, inspecting you and reading your tense body language, anticipating for the second where you’d act out of pure emotion so he’d supply you with meaningless words that held nothing but empty hope to burn out the flurry of emotions that ran rampant inside you.

“I don’t want to hear anything from you, Uncle Ford.” You spat out. He was the last person you wanted to hear anything from. From time to time, you’ve begged him to tell you what exactly is going around here yet he’d always brush you aside, dismissing whatever you’d ask and move on with the next thing that gripped his attention. “You never wanted to say anything to me until now.”

Ford, not expecting your answer, stumbled with his words. He shakes his head, almost as if he’s expelling his shock with the shakes and regains his composure. “[Name],” he starts off with a stern tone. “You are acting purely on your emotions. I need you to compose yourself and talk to us when you’re relaxed enough to form a proper sentence that doesn’t have you snapping at us.”

Your jaw gawks open. “So you’re telling me that I shouldn’t be feeling upset over this?

Ford clicked his tongue, a twinge of frustration oozing out of him. Everything you’re saying is going off the script Ford had curated in his head. He’s rendered useless as he scrambles for words he can put together in a sentence that’ll feasibly flip your train of thought around and convince you that the way you’re acting is irrational.

Ford waved his head side to side, unsure with his answer. Stan noticed the apprehension shrouded on Ford’s face and he silently signaled to him to not say what he’s about to say, already knowing that his poor choice of words was going to send this whole situation right on its back. Too stubborn for his own good, Ford stood his ground and opened his mouth much to Stan’s clear distaste of him speaking his mind.

“Yes but no.” You grit your teeth together, eyes narrowly staring daggers at Ford who looked seemingly pleased with his response.

Stan gulps nervously, taking a cautious step forward. “Sweetie, don’t listen to him. He’s an idiot. He doesn’t know what–”

“--You’re telling me that I’m overreacting? I have just found out that my dad has been lying to me since the moment I was born! And to make matters worse, you all are hiding things from me. None of you are bothering to tell me what the hell is going on here. Why are we all so secretive? We all promise to tell each other everything, no more secrets, no more lies! What happened to that? You all know something and I have a right to know as well!”

You heaved out a ragged breath, words spilling out of you in a madden rush. You held down your tongue for too long. Long nights of sneaky meandering had left you scrambling all the pieces they had discarded on secrets of Gravity Falls together, solving and answering all the questions you laid out for them but chose to ignore. All the lies Stan had fed you over the years concerning this supposed lazy town was unraveling right in front of you. What else had he been hiding from you? What other filthy lies had he pushed on you that you so mindlessly believed?

Stan’s mouth flounders, stammers of jumbled sounds spilled out. His arms are rendered at his side, stunned with your outburst. “I thought I was protecting you.” He whispers, his fingers flexing anxiously. “Dad! This whole summer has been nothing but crazy. I didn’t know that we had half of those monsters in our woods because you lied to me and told me that it’s been my imagination. What if I had gotten close to one thinking that it was all in my head, and the beast mauls my head off. What then, Dad?”

Stan deflates. Lost for words, he runs a hand down his gray hair. Thinking about finding your bloodied body sent full body chills down his spine and his stomach lurching. He never sat down and thought of the consequences of what he told you. As long as he said that it was all in your head, he thought you would’ve strayed away from them.

“I’m going outside. Maybe some stupid gnome would actually tell me what’s going on here because nobody here wants to even tell me anything.” The door slammed shut, causing everything on the wall to rattle and almost tip over. “Oh,” Stan drooped his head onto his palms, tears swelling in his eyes. “I really screwed up here.” He whispered to himself, his voice crackly and small.

Ford patted his back and Stan believed for a quick moment that Ford was going to say something so beautifully uplifting that he’d see the brighter sides of things, but he tells him, “When are you not?” and continues to pat his back.

Stan violently shrugged Ford’s hand off, his hand pushing Ford away from him. “Really, poindexter?” He scoffs, walking off into the living room where Mable and Dipper watched the whole scene unfold. “I thought it would offer some comfort!” He defeatedly argues back, a dejected sigh escaping him when his eyes meet Mable’s watery ones and Dipper’s disappointed glare. “Kids, I—“ Mable swiftly turns her head to the side, mumbling something under her breath as she ambles up to her room.

“I’m going to find them.” Stan walks in, slipping on a jacket to shield him from the cold. “I’m coming too.” Ford reaches out to grab the doorknob when Stan’s hand stops him from doing so. “I don’t think they want to see you right now.” Stan gingerly shoved Ford out of the way, leaving him to his thoughts as he shut the door behind him. Cursing to himself, Ford rams his foot on the door angrily.

Venturing far into the lush woods, you grumbled bitterly to yourself. You couldn’t even trust your own family to tell you something so simple. How utterly pathetic is that?

You fought the urge to punch a nearby tree and continued on, getting yourself lost in the natural maze of the forest. You wanted to get as far away as possible just so you can find time for yourself to cool down. After a while, the cold air started to nip at your exposed arms. The hairs on your body stood up as a cold shiver rippled through you. Hugging yourself to provide some warmth you found yourself sitting on the grassy floor, back leaning against the bark of the tree.

The soft chirps and squeaks of the animals brought a sense of calmness over you. These woods have been declared dangerous by Stan and for the longest time you never went out here without Stan hovering behind you or Soos mindlessly meandering through the woods with you. Your hands swayed across the green blades of grass, focusing on the itchy feeling that ran through your palms rather than the bitter cold. The faint whistles of the wind swirled around your ears and out around you. Has this forest always been so peaceful? Leaning your head against the trunk of the tree, you closed your eyes shut. Relishing in the comforting nature the woods provided you.

“Sweetheart?” Your eyes shoot open. “Dad?” Your heart quickens, your head whipping around rapidly. “Sweetie?” Stan’s voice grew closer and closer. The sound of the grass crunching and bending under his steps resounded throughout the quiet woods, his calls becoming more frequent and louder. How did he find you so quickly?

A shadowy figure, one you’ve grown to recognize, stepped out from the shade and presented himself. “[Name].” Stan sweetly calls out, kneeling down beside you. “Dad? What are you doing here?”

Stan smiled, opening his mouth but all that came out was a raspy breath. “Wha–” Your voice hitches in your throat.

Stan’s skin started melting off in a disgusting mess of bubbling flesh. The side of his face became a drooping mess and a crazed cackle left his lips. “You should’ve seen the look on your face, kid!” He points a boney finger at you, melted flesh sludge dripping from the bone. You scramble back, terrified screams ripping out of you.

“W-What is going on?” You push yourself up from the floor with your hand, bile coating the back of your throat at the horrid sight of Stan’s bloodied flesh sploshing to the floor. “I’m just playing tricks on you!” With a snap of his finger, Stan poofed away in thin air. What took his spot was an ominous floating triangle with a top hat. “Well, well, well, look who it is, [Name]! I knew we'd cross paths sooner or later. I gotta admit, I'm thrilled!” His eye crinkled in a joyous smile.

“How…” You blinked dumbly at the floating triangle. “I’m dreaming, right?”

“You sure are, kid!”

A wave of recognition passes through you. This was the god Ford was talking about in one of his journals. Your knowledge of him was not much, but from the tidbits you have read, Ford had admired this god. He went as far as to calling the triangle his muse. What was his name? Wasn’t it– “Bill?” His name spills out of your mouth. “Ah! So you do know about me?” He tilts a little in your direction, his hands clasped together. “Hear anything good?” A glimmer of forlorn hope shimmers in his eye before it’s washed away with an inquisitive look. “I-I think so? My Uncle really liked you from what I had read in his journals.” You squint your eyes in thought.

“Oh, he really liked me.” Bill’s charmed voice had entailed that there was more to the story than what was told but he didn’t give you time to mull over that thought before jumping into the flow of another topic. “But that’s all in the past now, right?” He snaps his fingers, a comfortable looking chair appearing before your eyes. He floated down on the chair, kicking his legs up and crossing them.

“I heard that a little someone has been lied to, isn’t that unfortunate?” The corner of his eye pulled to the side, almost as if it was a sadden frown. “How did you know?” The chair poofs away. “I see everything, kid!” His hands fall to his sides and he slowly leans towards you, his eye pulled wide open. Flashes of images you couldn’t quite comprehend flickered by in a brisk montage. “Everything.” He draws out. “Anyways, I've got a deal for you. You give me, I give you. Sounds fair, doesn't it?”

You raise a brow. “How can I trust you?” You rolled your fingers around the grass, delicately pulling on them.

“Your dear Uncle Ford trusted me!” He shakes his hands enthusiastically.

You pressed your lips into a thin line, still not convinced. “You literally pretended to be my dad and melted him right in front of me.” Bill put his fists to his sides, huffing out like a little child. “Can’t a triangle have a little fun here?” He rolled his eye dramatically. You eyed him, skepticism evident on your face. “I don’t know…” You plucked out a few blades of grass from the dirt. “I feel like if you wanted to gain my trust then you shouldn’t have done that.” You crumpled up the grass into a little green ball and tossed it at Bill. The ball passes through his body.

“Maybe you’ll change your mind once I propose the deal..?” Bill’s eye stretched out and morphed into a mouth with his lips puckered. He whistles out a tune you can’t recognize and innocently kicks the air. “Go on,” You wave your hand out to him. “If you make a deal with me, everything that you’ve been wanting to know will be revealed to you. All you have to do is shake my hand.” He extended out his hand, blue flame engulfing it whole. You blink your eyes in surprise. Was it really that easy? “There’s no catch?”

Bill’s fingers trembled in anticipation. “None whatsoever!”

You could trust him, right? Ford had trusted him! Bill even confirmed it himself. And with what you read, Bill had been giving him infinite knowledge. Feeding him thoughts that no one else had thought of before. He did manage to build that portal and come to think of it, wasn’t it triangular shaped? Was that Bill shaped or were you reaching? You think for a minute more, weighing the pros and the cons. Biting your tongue, you looked at Bill. Bill made a deal with Ford and he’s still alive and well, so how bad could it really be?

You bite the bullet and grasp onto his hand, the flame trailing towards you and consuming your hand whole. A maniacal laugh rips through the air and the world stills. The color drains around you, unpleasantly welcoming you to a monochrome world. “That was just too easy!” Bill wipes a tear from his eye, his firm grip on your hand never wavering. “W-What do you mean?” You tried forcefully pulling your hand away from Bill’s iron grip but it felt like your whole hand was encased in stone. No matter how hard you tried prying yourself away from his hold, his hand still didn’t budge. His eye twists into a pleased smile, his fingers thumping against the edge of your palm gleefully.

“Was I an idiot for trusting you?” Your words came out in a quiet whisper. You can feel the life being sucked out of you as Bill drew his hand back. “Yes! Absolutely!” He said with a cheer, yanking his hand back suddenly, pulling you out of your physical form. Bill wasted no time taking over your body. He rose up with a delighted laugh, his hands running down your body, taking in the new but familiar feeling. “Wow!” He pressed your palms on your lower back, stretching out your back with a few gratifying pops. “It has been so long since I’ve possessed someone!” Cracking your fingers, he turned over to your floating form with an eerie smile. The world bleeds back into its colors and the soft tranquil sounds of the forest flooded your ears. “Funny how we switched places, huh?”

You let out a shaky breath, your mind relentlessly battering you with words. How was this even possible? How could you be so foolish? You couldn’t even comprehend any of this. Bill moving around and using your body was terrifying. That was physically you and right now, he was joyously ramming your fist into the tree. You can see the skin on your knuckles rip and tear, blotchy patches of blood tainting the light bark. A light tingle of pain buzzed on your knuckles but it went away as quickly as it came.

“You’re so easy to injure! How weak are you?” He observes the damage eagerly, making your finger pinch on a frayed piece of skin. He twisted it and pulled it back, lightly chuckling to himself as he watched pearls of blood bead up from the now exposed skin. “Bill, stop!” Out of instinct, your hand went over to swat his arm away. A cold gust of wind flows through you as your hand phases right through yo–Bill. He stopped, plucking off the skin and flicking it aside. “If you keep hurting yours–, I mean, me! They’re going to wonder what happened.”

“Not if I tell them that you got attacked!” He said in a sing-song voice, his eyes keenly looking around for anything else that’ll harm your body. “[Name]!” Stan’s voice rung in the air, pulling you and Bill from your thoughts. A sinister smile tug at Bill’s lips as an idea fills his head. Your stomach flips inside out. Discreet grunts and groans seized your attention and you whipped your head over to Bill climbing up a tree. “What are you doing!” Your hands fly to your hair, gripping it tightly.

“Breaking the bones inside this meaty vessel, duh.” He hoists himself up on a thick branch. “Would a fall from this height kill you?” Bill ponders out loud, shakily standing up. “Are you seriously going to do this!” Your eyes darted from Bill sticking out your foot from under you to the direction where Stan’s voice could be heard. Bill lets your question float up in the air and with a child-like shout, he jumps off the branch, keeping your legs straight. You look away, unable to witness Bill carelessly treat your body like a toy.

A stomach turning snap sounded in the air. “[Name]!” Stan’s distressed voice alerted you.

You whip your head around to see Stan cradling your body. Bile crawls up your throat upon seeing your twisted leg limply hang on the other side. “Sweetheart? What happened?” Stan’s words rushed out in a flurried frenzy. You slapped a palm to your mouth, anxiously awaiting for Bill to slip up and sell out his identity to Stan. “I don’t know…” You hear your very own voice leave your mouth. Bill’s agitating voice was nowhere to be heard. Vomit fills your mouth and you fight every muscle in your body to not spew it out. “I was just laying on the tree, not doing anything when something attacked me. I…” Bill allows a few tears to cascade down your face before continuing. “I thought I was going to die, Dad. I was so scared!” He dramatically sobs onto Stan’s sweater, purposefully grazing your shredded bleeding knuckle on his jacket.

A gasp swelled in Stan’s chest. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart. I-I…” He harshly shuts his mouth closed, his pupils shrinking upon seeing your bloody knuckle. He was at fault for this, if he had never lied to you, if he would have just told you the truth from the start, you wouldn’t be so injured. Silently he carefully picked you up from the floor. To sprinkle a little more dramatics on the show Bill had out for you, he hissed out in faux pain, shooting your hand to your bent leg. Stan cringed, his eyes avoiding the general direction of your broken leg. “I’m sorry, baby.” He weakly muttered, his eyebrows pinched firmly in worry.

Stan trekked through the thick foliage with your body curled in his arms. He dodged under branches that stuck out and sidestepped the stones that protruded from the ground. The entire walk was in silence, aside from the periodic sniffles coming from Stan and quiet hiccups. All you wanted to do at that moment was wrap him in a hug and tell him everything was going to be okay, but you weren’t even so sure of that yourself.

When Stan approaches the front door of the shack, a wave of conflicted emotion flickers through Bill’s eyes before he closes his eyes abruptly and goes slack in Stan’s arms.

Stan chokes out a garbled yell for Ford. He heaves your body over his shoulder, twisting open the door with a slam and barging into the shack. “Stanley?!” Ford frantically ran over to Stan, his hands gesturing wildly at the sight before his eyes. “Th-They passed out in my arms! I don’t know what to do, Stanford!”

You grapple at your face, desperate to make sense of what’s happening. You watch with a heavy heart when Mable and Dipper scramble to Stan’s side, troubled voices speaking over one another trying to understand what happened to you and to ask if you were dead. Their frantic cries and yells chaotically fill the silence in the shack. Ford yelled over their voices, instructing Stan to quickly settle you down on the couch so he could conduct a proper examination on your wounded body. All Stan could do is go along with his commands, mind hazy with borderline delirium as he stumbles towards the living room.

“Dad,” you whisper, your fingertips grazing through him. You hold back the sob that scratched at your throat. This can’t be happening right now.

Cracking an eye open to your direction, you can feel Bill’s sleazy smile draw on your face. Your stomach shrivels up in disgust at the sight. His yellow eyes gleamed under the dimly lit shack as he stared at you. Mable’s rushed steps drew Bill to close your eyes. “Grunkle Stan! Please tell me they’re okay!” Mable has the collar of her sweater pulled up to her mouth, her never ending stream of tears staining the sweater. “Mable. Give him some space.” Dipper murmured, holding Mable back as he tensely watched Stan lay you down.

Ford eventually came in with a first aid kit. His appearance looked a little more disheveled than before. His hair was strewn about and ruffled, glasses crookedly sat atop of his nose and one of his sleeves was rolled up and cuffed while the other one was untouched. He sucked in a harsh breath upon seeing your split knuckles, dried blood crusted around the wounds and raw skin. The gashes reminded him of his own busted up knuckles when he was possessed by Bill. Alarm signs flared in his face but he batted them away, chalking it up to your injuries being caused by whatever animal had attacked you in the woods when you were alone. He treated the lacerations with antibodies and meticulously wrapped your hand in medical gauze. Gently placing your hand beside you, he looked over to your broken leg, holding a bated breath. Broken bones weren’t his favorite injury to heal since it takes extensive time off from anything physical and you having a broken leg at a time like this wasn’t ideal. He just needed to find ways to heal your leg quickly.

“I need you all to leave the living room.” Ford clapped his hands together, dragging a hand down his fingers. “W-What, why?!” This was the first time Stan spoke in a while and it surprised Ford. Clearing his throat, he answered: “Because I can’t focus with your eyes hovering all over me. I-I need to think and if I’m going to treat their leg, I need you all to leave.” Against everyone’s wishes, Ford ushered them out, leaving him alone to fully think about possible treatments he could have you undergo to heal your leg.

You didn’t have a good feeling about leaving Bill alone with Ford. They had history with each other and having a past with someone like Bill doesn’t seem like a good thing.

“Fordsy…”

Ford’s body physically recoiled inwards at the familiar nickname. His head darted around the room, helplessly searching for the owner of the voice. He can’t be here can he? That voice just sounded so eerily similar to yours, but why would you call him Fordsy? Blood pumps in his ear drums, obstructing his hearing.

“Sixeerrr.” His fingers curl around his arms. The light glow of horrifying unforgettable eyes glimmer in the corner of his eyes. He turns over to see you sat up on the couch, a smile stretched from ear to ear as Bill’s eyes shone into his. Ford’s blood ran cold, his mind swirling like a whirlwind. “Bill?” His heart pounds behind his rib cage.

“The one and only, Sixer.” Hearing Bill’s voice crackle through your own instilled despair all over Ford’s body. Taking a wary step back, his shaky eyes watched as Bill threw your legs down the couch, your left eye flinching closed as pain shivered through Bill. He severely underestimated how much pain your leg would cause him. To fight against it, he slammed your leg on the floor. Pain jostled through him, a shuddering sigh blowing past your lips. The aching pain overtook your leg for a moment before it relented into a numbing buzzing feeling. “Much better!” He stands up, smiling broadly.

Ford sucked in a stuttering breath, his eyes fleeting over to the hallway. “What do you want, Bill?”

“I don’t know…” He rolled your head in thought. “Maybe the rift to the portal? It’s a crazy thing to ask, I know!” He laughs to himself.

You wanted to bash your head on the wall. This was the reason why he made a deal with you. It was because of a stupid rift. You’ve only heard bits and pieces of the importance of the rift, but you knew it was serious business with how you heard Ford talk about it in passing. You need to find a way to stop Bill.

Ford sneered. “Try all you want, Bill. But you’re not getting the portal.” Bill rolled your shoulders, earning a few noisy crackles of your bones. Ford tenses up, readying himself for the fight that’s about to pursue when Bill charges towards him, side stepping him at the last second and darting out of the living room. “Haha! I got you!” He teases, hissing out in pain when he applied too much pressure on your busted leg. “Stanley!” Ford yelled out, stumbling over his own feet as he ran after Bill. Hurried footsteps stomp down on the stairs, panicked talking and breaths littered the air. “[Name] is possessed by Bill!” A chorus of “WHAT?” echoes in the house.

He skids to a stop in front of the open vending machine. Ford tugged on his hair, mumbling to himself in shock. How does he know the password? Wasting no time to dwell on that, he pads down the stairs. His stomach lurches forward when he notices Bill step inside the elevator, a snarky smile on your face as he turns around and waves at Ford. “Bill!” He launches himself forward, missing a few steps of the stairs and landing on the ground near the elevator. He trips over to the closing elevator, his fist slamming on the door as it shuts.

“Ford, what is going on?” Stan pants out. Ford rapidly presses the elevator button, anxiously watching as the elevator dinged on down to the bottom. An idea passes through your head. Mumbling a self-motivating sentence Mable had showed you, you dived straight through the floor, phasing through the other two rooms and landing in the lab room. As stupid as it sounds, you’re going to repossess your body back.

“Bill, he–he has [Name]!” Ford delivers a punch to the buttons, knocking the plate off its screws. Stan’s face contorts into a mixture of anger and concern. “He has what!? How the fuck does Bill have [Name], Ford!” Ford rested his forehead on the wall. “Now’s not the time to freak out, Stanley!”

Stan clenched his fists, grinding his teeth together. “It’s the perfect time to freak out, Stanford! Bill has my kid!”

“Bill has [Name]?” Mable’s shrill reverberated through the empty staircase. “Kids, you can’t be here!” Ford warns, shooting out his hand to stop Mable and Dipper from getting any closer. “We want to help, Grunkle Ford.” Dipper sternly said. “That’s a funny joke, kid.” Stan chuffs out dryly, his attention snapping towards the elevator that was now rising up the shaft, dinging with each stop. “It’s not a joke!” Dipper dipped under Ford’s arm and stood in front of the elevator, Mable following in suit. “Stanley, do something!” Ford gestures to Mable and Dipper who are unmoving from their spot. Stan scoffs, dismissing him with a flick of his wrist. “They’re already here, Stanford. There’s no point in stoppin’ them now.”

With a loud chime, the elevator pulls back its doors. The twins were the first to step inside, whispering to themselves as Ford and Stan walked in. Mable rushes over to the panel containing three buttons and using her tippy toes, she slams the last button with the palm of her hand. The elevator registers the destination with a slight rumble and shuts the door closed, leading them down to Ford’s lab.

Ford could see Stan’s harsh breathing and clenched fists out the corner of his eye. Placing a comforting hand on his shoulder, he steels both him and Ford with: “We’re going to save them, Stanley.” Stan breathes out, teetering his head back with his eyes shut. “I hope you’re right about that.”

The elevator quivers to a stop, the doors creakily pulling open. The four of them step out of the elevator and into the lab. “I was expecting it to be destroyed down here.” Dipper comments.

Through the protective window, Ford could see Bill fighting with himself, your body laying limp for a few seconds before revving back up to life. He watches the cycle repeat for a few more times before shaking his head. “He’s outside.” He advises everyone.

In a blink of an eye, Stan was already out into where Bill was, blowing countless angry questions at his face, his eyes shifting everywhere but at you. “Woah, woah, woah!” Bill took a cautious step back as he watched everyone circle around him, caught off guard with the sudden intrusion. “Don’t get your underwear in a twist, haha, am I right?”

Pure and utter silence.

Bill’s smile falters. “Okay, touch crowd!”

“Cut the crap, Bill. Give me back my kid!” Stan grunts out. “I can let them talk to you! After all, they’re up here.” He taps the side of your head. “Stop messing around!” Ford takes a step toward Bill. “Don’t come any closer!” Your own voice filters through Bill’s interdimensional voice. Ford hesitates in his steps, sharing a cautionary glance with Stan. Shuffling your hand behind you, he pulls out the shimmering rift. “I will break this!” He threatens, flipping it upside down.

Ford narrows his eyes at Bill. “You would’ve done so by now. What’s stopping you?” He motions Dipper and Mable to sneak past Bill and hide behind him, just in case he decides to do anything that’ll compromise the rift and you. “Nothing!” Bill strains out, trying to wiggle the rift out of your grasp. Ford takes notice of your white knuckles and connects two and two together. You’re somehow fighting against Bill for your body. “Fascinating…”

“Aghh! Why can’t this stupid kid let go!” Bill grumbles, using your other hand to scrape at your clenched hand. He scratched and clawed until the skin on your hand was red and raw. “Is [Name] currently fighting against you?” Ford inquires, a delighted smile on his face. “W-What? No!” Bill plucks your pinky finger off the rift. “See! I’m in total–” Your body jerks forward, and for a slight second, your eyes glinted back, only for you to be propelled backwards. With a shake of your head, your eyes blink and Bill’s eyes are back on you. “[Name] is a fighter, that’s for sure!” He awkwardly laughs out, still regaining control over your body with how he waverly stumbled side to side.

Taking advantage of his vulnerability, Ford sent a quiet signal to Mable and Dipper. The twins tackle Bill from behind. A startle yelp leaves his mouth as he falls forward. “Stanley the–” Stan was already swooping in and snatching the rift out of your hands in one swift motion. Bill's face planted on the floor. “This stupid weak body!” Bill whines out, having your hands buckled tightly to your back by Dipper and Mabel. “Get something to tie their arms together with!” Stan said, jogging back into the lab, discreetly hiding the rift away from Bil’’s prodding eyes.

“I was so close!” Bill pressed your face into the dirt. The sharp tiny stones cut into your cheek and all Bill could do is focus on the itching pain rather than the humiliating feeling of being pinned down by two twelve year olds. Ford grabs the rope and securely binds your wrists together. The twins finally shuffle away from your body, watching Bill struggle under the restraints. “I’m going to be traumatized by the end of this.” She lets out a dejected sigh. “I feel like nothing can phase me after this.” Dipper adds.

“How are we going to get them back into their body?” Stan questioned Ford who was double checking the bindings on your wrist, making sure they weren’t too tight to burn your skin off but tight enough to keep Bill detained “I think I have an idea on how…” He breathes out, looking over to Stan, face full of unease. “But it might not work if everyone isn’t present.”

Stan found himself staring dumbly at the diagram that Ford had etched into the dirt with a stick. “What is this?” Ford finished the final symbol within the diagram, discarding the stick behind him. “A zodiac diagram.” He says, dusting off his hands. “And what does this have to do with saving [Name]?”

Ford spares a quick glance over to you. Mable and Dipper sat on each of your sides, keeping a careful eye on you as you alternated with yourself and Bill. Dipper’s face contorted into a painful expression whenever you’d jerk your head upwards, a random assortment of words spilling out of you before your head flies back down. That agonizing process continues for what feels like an eternity and he could clearly see the toll it’s taken on your body. Stan couldn't make himself watch you suffer, biting his lip so hard blood builds up on his lip.

“Yes.” Ford curtly nods his head. “I had always hypothesized what this would be used for but It never occurred to me until now that it could be used like this.”

Stan doesn’t like the slight sound of uncertainty in Ford’s tone. How could Ford be so sure that it works? “So, you’re telling me that you have never done this before?”

“Pretty much, yeah.” He shrugs, pushing up his glasses that were sliding down his nose. “Don’t worry about whether it works or not. We don’t have time to think about what if’s.” Curiously eyeing the symbols on the floor, he pondered in his head. Who could possibly stand on what zodiac?

Mable had walked right next to Stan, she looked like she had something to say when her eyes fell on the diagram, her eyes shining. “That one reminds me of Wendy.” She points at the zodiac that was an ice bag. An idea dawned upon Ford. “Does it now?” He kneels down to Mable’s height. “Mable, dear. Can you look at these zodiac signs and tell me who they remind you of?”

Mable was quick to point out and tell Ford each symbol that reminded her of a person. Jotting down all the names in his head, he began calling each and every one of them, stringing Mable along to help him convince them to come over to the Mystery Shack. One by one, they all started pooling in. Questions sprouted from one mouth to another and every single time, their questions received answers when their eyes landed on your struggling form.

“Okay, everyone stand in your respective spots and hold hands!” Ford’s voice was quiet in the distance. Stan had found himself kneeling in front of you, his expression unreadable but his eyes carried a deep sorrowful guilt to them. “Feeling guilty, Stanley?” Bill drawled out, pulling your heavy head up, only for it to be knocked down to the side. Your body was growing weak and Bill was tirelessly fighting against it. Unbeknownst to Stan, you were right next to him. Your unrelenting attempts to gain your body back had caused an aggressive strain on your body. You couldn’t stay in it without feeling utterly exhausted, allowing Bill to abuse your weak spot and take over your body. But that weak spot had also applied to him as well. You were trying to regain your breath before you’d try again.

“Can it, Bill.” He scoops you up from the floor, walking towards the diagram.

“You don’t have to do this!” Bill aggressively barked out, throwing himself around in Stan’s hold. “I do have to do this. You’re in my kid's body.” He grunted, throwing your body over his shoulder. “They made a deal with me! I won this body fair and square.” Bill argued, hammering your head down on Stan’s back. “Look, I just found out about you not too long ago. But for someone who was supposedly this all powerful demon, you pathetically really weak.”

He approaches the diagram, setting your body down in the middle. “That’s because I haven’t revealed my true potential yet!” He struck the back of your head hard on the floor, causing your vision to go bleak for a moment. “Do you really need to do all of that?” You grumble, rubbing the back of your tender head. “I do what I please.” He mumbles to himself, rolling over on your stomach.

Standing in his spot, Stan locked hands with Ford and Soos. “It’s most likely going to feel weird! Stick it through and don’t, I repeat, don’t let go!” A blinding blue light shoots up from the middle and travels through the lines of the diagram, illuminating the place in a bright blue light.

“No!’ Bill writhed around. He could feel himself slipping away. Your forehead makes direct contact with a rock. He smiles at it, knocking your head against it again. “Oh, Billy! You are just full of ideas today.” He whispered, shuffling over to the stone to the point where he was hovering over it. He laid your head down, feeling the cold stone press against the middle of your forehead. Breathing in through clenched teeth, he raised your head up high. He nailed your head down on the rock, splitting through skin. You could feel the ghost touch of blood trickle down your forehead.

He laughed crazily as he continued to bash your head onto the rock. With each blow, the rock was painted with more and more blood. He was going to kill you at this rate. Bill lowered his head back down on the rock and you shut your eyes closed. You weren’t going to see Bill crack your head open. But the blistering pain never registered, peeking your eyes open you saw Stan had caught your head in his hand.

Ford yelled out Stan’s name but Stan ignored it. His chest rapidly heaved in and out as he fell to his knees, resting your dazed head on his lap. You had noticed that Bill was slipping out of your physical form. Darting over to him, you grabbed his hand and ripped him out. Before you could hear Bill’s flurry of cries, you dove right in, repossessing your body once again and hopefully for the last time.

Grumbled groans escaped you as you regained all your senses. You jolted up in striking pain. Everything hurt, even more than the last you took over. Your stomach rumbled, a flood of whatever liquid shot up into your mouth. You leaned to the side, expelling the fluid. Peeling open your weary eyes, you felt yourself grow nauseous at the pool of blood in front of you. “[Name]!” Stan grabbed your face, directing it toward him. He looked at your eyes and a look of relief settled on his face. “Dad?” You groggily said, your whole world spinning. “Are you okay? Is that demon gone? Where is he?” The massive load of questions made you want to vomit all over again.

I’m still here! Bill’s grating voice grinding against your brain. You crumble under Stan’s hold, your head thumping in pain “No. He’s still in my head.” You felt another rush of blood clamor up into your mouth. You meekly shove Stan’s hands away from your face, hurling another dump of blood. Cautious voices sounded all around you, your vision distorting in a blurry mess. “Dad?” You forcefully focused your eyes on Stan’s face. “I think there’s something wrong with me.” Talking was enough to strip you away from all the energy you had left and you weren’t sure you had enough time to say anything else before Bill took over again.

“I know, baby. I know. We’re goin’ to get help, stay with me. Please.” Stan said something to Ford you couldn’t quite catch.

You felt his arms wrap around you and lay you down back on his lap. I’m going to kill you. You scratched at your aching head. “His voice hurts. Hearing it hurts so much.” You murmured, feeling a hand run down your arm up and down soothingly. “Stay strong for me, sweetheart.” A light kiss was pressed on your forehead.

You cried out, feeling yourself being pulled away.

“Stanley! Come back now!” You could make out Ford’s scream at Stan. The world was fading before you and you couldn’t help but break down as you heard Bill cackle in your head. Stan saw your eyes flicker to yellow and he delicately placed you down on the floor, running back to his spot. Bill seamlessly takes over, blinking himself awake as he’s shuffling your body up to your knees.

“This is all your fault, Stanley Pines. [Name]’s death will be on your hands!” He bellows, purposely allowing your voice to break through. The strenuous action causes him to tremble forward, blood splattering on the grass. Bill started yelling nonsensical blabbers, anything that would make Stan budge from his spot, to stop the whole process but he stayed put, directly staring Bill down. Bill fell to the side, coughing up bile and a random assortment of fluids.

In a flash of blue, you feel yourself fully grounded back into your body. A feeling you feel like you haven’t felt in forever.

A grinding yell echoed in your head. You are so disgustingly weak! Bill screamed in your head. Another splitting headache bore into your head but all you could do is lay there and take it in, feeling so worn-out and droopy that you weren’t able to physically react. I didn’t do much and you’re dying! I did all of this for nothing, for nothing! And it is all your fault! I should’ve broken every single bone in your body and twisted your neck. At least I would’ve gained something from that! You are so useless!

He was wreaking havoc in your mind. The blinding pain subsided to a lingering pain, black dots swarming your vision. He seems to be doing last minute damage before he’s left with no other choice but to leave your body. With a rugged distorted babble from Bill, your whole world went dark.

The waiting room was cold, so numbingly cold. Stan casted his gaze down to his hands. Your blood had stained them. He couldn’t tell if it was the blood from your forehead, or the blood you vomited out. But your own blood had been smeared all over him and it made him sick to his stomach. He couldn’t erase the image of your cold limp body laying on the grass, face covered in streaks of blood. This was all his fault. If he had just told you how things were from the start, this wouldn’t have happened. You would’ve been next to him, chattering his ear off about something irrelevant while asking him multiple times if he was listening to you. Despite his thoughts, your soothing presence wasn’t there to console his mourning heart.

Your doctor had came in earlier to share the state that your body was in. Everyone listened intently to her words as she described the damage that Bill had caused to your body. She said doctors were so mortified with your condition, labeling it as one they have never seen before with how many injuries you sustained on the outside and inside. Stan and Ford had to dodge some questions that had the doctor fired at them, excusing your evenstive wounds with a slip off a mountain, silly teenage activities that almost cost you your own life. She didn’t buy it.

The doctor's slight graphic description of your injuries only cemented the guilt deeper into Stan. He was a bad father wasn’t it? The only thing he prided himself in for doing right was so easily taken away from him in a blink of an eye. He really was a screw up. Ford and his Dad were right.

“Stanley.” Ford’s hand on his shoulder withdrew him from his thoughts. “We need to go home. It’s late.” He looks briefly to the seat next to him. The twins had sat on the same seat, their muddled expressions were no longer on their face, instead they were sleeping peacefully, heads leaning against each other. “The twins are asleep.” He tells him. Stan’s gaze glued on his tainted hands. “I’m staying here.” He weakly said. “You need sleep, Stanley.”

“I can sleep here, Ford.” He snapped, expression tight. “They are going to kick you out.”

Stan shrugged, clasping his hands together. “Then they’d hafta kick me out then.”

“I’m not leaving you here.”

Stan leaned his head back against the wall, huffing out. “I’m not in any mood to fight with you here.” Taking off his glasses, he rubbed his burning eyes. “I’m staying here and there’s nothin’ you can do about it.” He placed his glasses on his lap and crossed his arms, closing his eyes as he shifted around to get comfortable enough to sleep. “Always been so stubborn.” Ford shook his head, getting up from the seat with a light groan. “I’m leaving.” He picks up the slumbering twins, being extra careful to not jostle them around and wake them. Stan grumbled in response, hearing Ford’s footsteps fade away in the distance.

Stan doesn’t know how long it’s been, all he knows is that he had fallen asleep with the way his neck was sore. “Sir?” A voice broke through his drowsiness. “Sir?” They call out again. “Hm, wha?” Stan peeled open his eyes, the glaring hospital lights momentarily blinded him. Covering his eyes with his palm, he squinted at the lady in front of him. “What’s goin’ on?”

“We’re closing up for the night, sir. I need you to leave.” She calmly said, offering a soft smile to Stan. “But my kid, they’re in here. I need to be here if anything happens.” He scrambles to put his glasses on. “I assure you sir, whoever your kid is, will be fine. We will keep a lookout if anything happens.”

“How are you guys goin’ to keep a lookout when you’re all home sleeping away like there isn’t people dying in here!” Stan argued. “Now's not the time, sir. I need you to leave or you’d be personally escorted out by the guards.” Stan sighed, standing up from his chair. “You don’t have to do all that.” He mutters, cracking his back before walking out. Walking out into the summer night, he pulled out his phone to check the time.

11 P.M. it read. It looked like the doctors allowed him to stay overtime. Usually they’d kick people out of the waiting rooms by around 9 P.M.

His eyes freeze at the baby picture of you on his lockscreen. The photo was taken on your fourth birthday. Stan had gone all out, as he always did, and got you a little birthday hat, little cupcake with a candle that had your age on it, and a mess of confetti and other birthday assortments. You had such a large smile on your face as you were mid bite into your cupcake. He remembered the day so vividly as if it happened yesterday. He clenched his phone tightly, tears flooding his vision. Why did it have to be you? Running his arm roughly over his eyes, he sniffed. He shoved his phone back into his pockets and started walking back to the shack.

Ford found himself being startled awake by a knock on the door. Sluggishly getting up from the couch, he walked over to the gift shop entrance. He opened the door to be pleasantly surprised to see Stan. He stepped aside, letting Stan walk in. “Kicked you out?”

“Yup.” Stan accentuating the ‘p’.

“Told you.”

A quick moment of silence takes over before Stan breaks it. “Is this all my fault?”

“You were just trying to protect them.” Ford walks over to Stan, shoving his hands under his armpits. “Look where that got ‘em.” Stan cracked his thumb, whispering something to himself before timidly looking at Ford. “Do ya think you can stay with me tonight?” He sheepishly scratches his cheek. “I don’t think I can trust myself bein’ alone or whatever.”

Ford earnestly smiled at him. “I don’t mind.” Stan nods. “You sleep on the floor though.”

Stan’s phone loudly rattled on his nightstand, his ringtone noisily blaring its song. “Turn it off!” Ford cried out, folding his pillow over his head. Stan arose from his abundance of blankets and grabbed his phone, dragging it off the nightstand. He squinted at the screen, trying to make sense of the blurry text. Stan reached out for his glasses, shoving them on his face and directing his eyes back on the screen. The word hospital flashed on his face.

“It’s the hospital!” He swiped his finger, answering the call. He put his phone to his ear and anxiously waited. “Stanley Pines?” A snotty voice spoke from the phone. “Yes!” He clears his throat. “Yes, yes. That’s me. Why’re you callin’?”

“[Name] has woken up and…” Stan had blocked everything else she said and shut up from the bed. “They’re awake!” He announced, shedding off his blankets and launching off his bed, accidentally stepping on Ford in the process. The whole morning was spent dashing around the house, vigorously getting dressed and making sure everyone was ready to head over to the hospital. After Ford’s triple check, they all clamored inside in the car and drove to the hospital.

Stan burst into your room, his eyes locking with your bandaged form. “Dad!” You weakly called out, a shaky smile on your face. “Pumpkin!” He sighed out, relieved at seeing your beautiful smile. He wraps you in his arms, burying his face into your hair as he sobs. “I thought..I thought–!” He blubbers out. More welcoming arms wrap around you, wailing wracking through the air. “[Name]!!” Mable dragged out. “Don’t scare us like that ever again.” Dipper sniffed, scrubbing his eyes clear of tears. “Welcome back, kid.” Ford plants a kiss on the top of your head.

“I’m here guys, you don’t have to worry so much.” You laugh, Stan wiping your tears with his thumb. “How can we not? We almost lost you, pumpkin.” After a tearful reunion, everyone stepped back, allowing you to breathe. They only gave you a few more minutes to yourself before they bombarded you with apologies. Mable and Dipper were stuck to your side, each of them giving you their own version of puppy eyes. Mable was more into it than Dipper, but you still accepted their apologies with a big hug.

“I’m sorry too, sweetheart. I shouldn’t have lied to you. I should have been honest from the get go.” You took Stan’s hand, patting it like you would a dog. “It’s okay, Dad. I forgave you long ago. I should have followed what Ford said and calmed down.” You slightly glare at Ford. “Though, I didn’t like how he said it to me at the same time, so maybe I am justified in my anger?”

“Ford doesn’t know how to talk. What’s new?” Stan knocked his shoulder with Ford who rolled his eyes. “Yeah. I’m the butt of the joke. As always.”

“If it isn’t you! Then it would be Dipper,” Mable pokes at him. “But me and Grunkle Stan told all the jokes possible so it isn’t as funny as making fun of you, Grunkle Ford! You’re so nerdy and losery, more than Dipper. And that isn’t a good thing.”

A crackly laugh leaves Stan. “Thanks for explaining, dear.” Ford said with a strain, his smile wavering. “Someone one upped you, Dipper.” You chuckle. “I don’t know if I should revel in it or feel sad for Ford.” Dipper tapped his finger on his chin. “Don’t overthink it, dude.” You flick his forehead.

“And Grunkle Ford, where is your apology?” Mable raised her chin up high, doing her best attempt of a haughty queen looking down at her jester. Ford scoffs, “I’m so sorry, your humble majesty.” Dipping his head low to mimic a bow.

“Oh?” You and Mable share a bewildered expression. “I wasn’t expecting him to actually do it.” You look over to Dipper who had an uncomfortable expression on his face. “I don’t like what’s going on here.”

“Wait, are you going to have a cool scar on your forehead now?” Mable questions, pointing at your bandaged forehead. Bumbling conversation fills the air, laughter occasionally humming here and there. In the end, they all had to leave for your routine check up by the doctors. Stan was the last one to bid goodbye to you. Kissing your forehead, he held onto your hand, his eyes glistening with tears.

“I love you so much, kiddo. If I had lost you back there, I dunno what would have happened to me.” He caresses his thumb against your hand. “Don’t say stuff like that, Dad. I’m here, that’s what counts.”

You share a long hug together, with a few tears being shed.

“I know, I know.” Giving you one last kiss and embrace, he waves you goodbye.

“I love you!”

“I love you more, Dad!”

Taglist: @boredwithlifeatthispoint, @lovexsage, @teddycricketdream, @theilluminatidragonqueen, @raventeen @cedarmoonzz, @katharine3000

dm or comment if you want to be added/removed :3

#gravity falls #gravity falls x reader #stanford pines x reader #stanley pines x reader #stanford pines #dipper pines x reader #ford pines #ford pines x reader #mable pines x reader #stan pines #stanley pines x child!reader #stanley pines x daughter! reader #stanley pines x son!reader #stanley pines x dauhter!reader #stan pines x child!reader #stan pines x reader #stan pines x daughter!reader #stan pines x son!reader

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sky-high-standards · 1 year

Text

Yandere!!! Millionaire!! x Fem!!Reader

(thanks for 400 followers edited thanks for 1000 love y'all)You were in a very poor family but somehow you caught the attention of a crazy Millionaire.

You were working at a local coffee shop to feed your family when a man with jet black hair wearing a expensive looking suit came in, he was undeniably attractive but his cold black eyes made you feel a chill run down your spine.

Then he made eye contact with you before smirking, he then came up to ask for your name and number but when you refused he tried to take you by force but you managed to escape and run into the break room.

He kept coming day after day yet somehow you managed to weasel your way out of talking to him but your luck soon ran out when you were suddenly cornered and pinned by your wrists, you looked up to see him with a smug smirk on his face.

"I know you've been avoiding me sweetheart."

"What's wrong with you? What do you want from me?!'

"Don't you get it? I want you~"

"You dot even know me!!!"

"Oh I know everything about you Y/n"

you gasped and tried to escape for the hundredth time but his grip was too strong.

"I know that your family is starving and are soon going to get evicted, I know that you work overtime just to feed your family and I know that you need a miracle to save them and I'm that miracle Darling~ Just do as I say and make it easier for everyone Sweetheart."

"No you're just a spoiled brat who gets everything he wants and you're not gonna get me!!!"

you said in anger and stormed off while he just stood there and smirked.

"Okay my dear let the games begin"

A few weeks after that encounter you stopped seeing him and genuinely thought he lost interest and left you alone but you felt something much worse was coming and you were right. As you came to work the next day your boss came and fired you on the spot you were shocked of course since you've been employee of the month for the past 6 months and your boss seemed terrified as he spoke to you almost like he was scared to say the wrong thing and constantly looked to the side as if some monster was here in the shadows and as soon as he fired you he ran inside.

This was terrible for you because without a job how could you feed your family but when you looked for new jobs the manager would fire you shortly after with the same look of fear as your former boss but when you finally found a job that paid well you immediately took it you were hired as an assistant for a wealthy business owner, you came to work the next morning in your best clothes and started working but as you went to your bosses office who were horrified to see the same creep from the coffee shop you stood there with your jaw dropped as he smirked and caressed your cheek.

"Well isn't it my lovely new assistant its nice to see you again y/n~"

All you could do was grit your teeth and greet him since he was your family's only hope now and you couldn't afford to get fired not again.

As worked days past he became far more touchy and would take any opportunity to touch you in any way possible this was tolerable until you came to work on day to find your seat was gone and he offered you to sit on his lap which sounded more like an order than an offer so you begrudgingly agreed while gritting your teeth and giving him a forced smile. He smirked back satisfied at how powerless you were with him now.

"Good girl~"

He said and you could here the satisfaction in his voice as you dug your fingernails into your palms in rage.

Though you constantly got harassed by your boss the job wasn't so bad due to the many friends you made and because your family was happy and healthy but good things don't last. One day after you came back from your break which u spent with your friends you boss went crazy and fired everyone that was with you because "they were only bringing you down." and "they made you loose sight of what was important" (which was him) and when you attempted to quit realized what he was capable of.

Sir I quit I'll clear out my desk now.

He then grabs you by the wrist and pins you to the wall where you're caged by his muscular arms and he whispered in your ear where you could feel his hot breath fanning your lips.

"You know you cant do that Dear you don't know what I'm capable of that sweet little family of yours wont be around much longer is you disobey me dear."

You gasped in fear and shock but he smiled at your reaction.

"Now be a good girl and do as I say"

He said as he pulled away and went back to his usual demeanor. Every time you found someone new they would go missing so you isolated yourself not wanting anyone else to get hurt but when your brother got really sick and you had to take care him for a few days but your boss didn't like that.

You came home to find the read stains? No it was blood but not just anyone's blood this was the blood of your family leading the way to their lifeless bodies the moment you saw that sight it was permenantly burned into your mind you still see that horrendous sight when you close your eyes...you broke down in tears and got on your knees devastated but you then got picked up by a pair of firm strong arms and felt a gentle kiss on your forehead.

"I know you loved them Dear, but they kept you away from me and besides we'll have our own family soon enough~♥

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pretzel-box · 21 days

Text

Tags: Fluff, Established Relationship, GN!Reader, Marriage, just wholesome, Sebastian is starstruck about reader

Words: 1,7k

Authors Note: Song fic! Song today: Stay by Ghost feat Patrick Wilson [I really love Ghost]

I thought about my boyfriend while writing this, pls don't tell him!

If this world is wearing thin.

And you're thinking of escape.

I'll go anywhere with you.

Time had no meaning in a place where the sun didn’t shine and the moon held no sway, where even the distant glimmer of the stars was swallowed by the endless, wet depths of the facility. Days blurred into one another, indistinguishable, as the relentless march of hours became a meaningless cycle. Yesterday bled into today, and tomorrow would arrive, indistinct from the days that had come before. Time was a ghost, an illusion, in a place where nothing changed and nothing could change.

But none of it mattered. It never would. Not when you stood there, bathed in the soft, ethereal glow of his lure. The pale light caressed your features, casting gentle shadows on your face, highlighting the curve of your smile—the smile that was so heartbreakingly genuine, so full of warmth and affection that it made the cold, oppressive atmosphere of the facility seem almost bearable.

Sebastian couldn’t take his eyes off you, the way you seemed to defy the darkness that surrounded you both. There was something otherworldly about the way you looked in this moment, as if the glow of his lure was meant only for you, as if it existed to illuminate the small, precious space you shared with him. The facility, with all its horrors, faded into the background. The walls, the steel, the constant hum of the machinery—it all became distant, insignificant. There was only you and the light, a moment suspended in time, untouched by the cruelty of the world beyond.

The air was thick with unspoken words, with the weight of emotions too deep to name. Sebastian could feel it, the way his heart ached at the sight of you, the way it stirred with something unfamiliar and yet undeniably present. It wasn’t just the affection he saw in your smile, but the way you stood so close, close enough that he could feel the warmth radiating from you, close enough that the darkness seemed afraid to touch you.

In that moment, time truly had no meaning. The past, with all its pain and regret, was a distant memory. The future, uncertain and unknown, held no power here. All that mattered was now, was this—the light, the smile, and the silent understanding that passed between you.

Sebastian’s heart beat slowly, heavily, as if time itself had decided to take a breath. He wanted to reach out, to touch you, to close the distance that still lingered between you. But he didn’t move, afraid to shatter the delicate balance of the moment. Instead, he let himself simply exist here, with you, in the soft glow of the lure’s light.

And for the first time in a long while, he felt something like peace. It was fragile, and he knew it wouldn’t last—not here, not in a place where time had no meaning and every day was a battle to survive. But for now, it was enough. Enough to keep him standing, enough to keep him fighting. Enough to remind him that even in the darkest places, there was still light.

And you were that light.

Just wrap me up in chains.

But if you try to go alone.

Don't think I will understand.

"Stay," he begged that day, his voice breaking as the words escaped his lips. His hands, usually so steady, reached out to you with a desperation that shook him to his core. The rough texture of his palms, calloused from years of struggle and survival, felt softer in that moment, imbued with the tenderness and love he held for you.

"Stay with me."

It wasn’t just a plea; it was a confession, raw and unguarded. Sebastian, the one who had always seemed unbreakable, was now standing before you, exposed and vulnerable. His eyes, usually hard and calculating, were filled with an emotion so deep and profound that it made your heart ache.

He wanted to hold you, to keep you close, to shield you from the relentless darkness of the world you both inhabited. The love he had tried so hard to keep hidden, to bury beneath layers of pride and fear, now flowed freely in his voice, in the tremble of his hands as he reached for you.

You could feel the warmth of his touch, the way his fingers curled around yours with a gentle yet urgent grip. It was as if he was afraid that if he let go, even for a second, you would slip away, lost to the void that constantly threatened to consume you both.

There was a depth to his words that went beyond the simple request. It was a cry from a soul that had known too much pain, too much loss. A soul that had found something worth holding onto, something worth fighting for in the midst of all the chaos and despair.

The world outside was cold, unforgiving. But here, in this small, fragile moment, there was warmth. There was hope. There was love. And all Sebastian wanted was to keep that light burning, to keep you by his side, even if it meant laying bare his heart in a way he never had before.

He didn’t want to lose you—not now, not ever. And in that plea, in the way his hands trembled as they held onto yours, you saw the truth: Sebastian wasn’t just asking you to stay physically. He was asking you to stay in his life, in his heart, to be the anchor that kept him grounded in a world that constantly threatened to tear him apart.

“Stay with me.”

In the silence of your room.

In the darkness of your dreams.

You must only think of me.

Sebastian couldn’t tear his gaze away. You stood before him, a vision so ethereal that it felt as if time itself had stopped, allowing him to take in every detail of this moment. The faint flicker of his lure cast a soft glow around you, making the scene almost surreal—like a painting brought to life.

Your makeshift veil, though simple and worn, had an elegance that transcended its humble origins. It draped over your head and shoulders with a delicate grace, fluttering slightly in the faint breeze that whispered through the corridors of the facility. Despite the thin layer of dust that clung to the fabric, it shimmered faintly, catching the light in a way that made you appear almost otherworldly.

He noticed the blush on your cheeks, the soft pink that betrayed your flustered state. It was a contrast to the cold, lifeless surroundings—so full of life, so human. It made his heart ache with a longing he could barely comprehend. The ribbons in your hair, torn from old bandages, held a bittersweet charm, a reminder of the harsh world you both inhabited, yet they were transformed into something beautiful in your hands. You had a way of doing that—of taking the broken, the discarded, and turning it into something to be cherished.

The bouquet of withered lilies and roses you held was the final touch, a symbol of something fragile yet enduring, something that had withstood the test of time and adversity. Even in their faded state, the flowers carried a poignant beauty, much like the resilience you both had shown through everything.

To Sebastian, you were divinity incarnate. You outshone the stars, made the sun's brightness seem pale in comparison. In this moment, you were everything he had ever wanted, everything he had ever needed. Every part of him, every fiber of his being, was drawn to you, consumed by the love he could no longer keep hidden. You were his.

He could hardly breathe as he looked at you, his chest tight with the overwhelming emotions that threatened to spill over. You were his—his muse, his anchor, his reason for fighting in a world that had given him so little. And in this moment, as you stood before him, the embodiment of all that was good and pure, he knew that he could never let you go.

“You’re beautiful,” he whispered, the words escaping before he could stop them. They were raw, unpolished, but they were the truth. He reached out, his hand trembling slightly as he gently touched the veil, the fabric soft beneath his fingers. It was a tender, almost reverent gesture, as if he were afraid that anything more might shatter the delicate beauty of the moment.

His eyes met yours, and in them, you saw everything he couldn’t say—the depth of his love, the fears he carried, the hope that you could be his salvation. He had always been the one to protect, to shield you from the horrors of the world, but here, now, it was you who held the power. The power to heal, to bring light into the darkness that had been his life for so long.

“I never thought…” he began, his voice thick with emotion, “that I could feel like this. That someone like you could…could see me, really see me, and still be here.”

He swallowed hard, struggling to find the right words. But how could he? How could he express the torrent of emotions that flooded his heart every time he looked at you? All he could do was stand there, trembling under the weight of his love for you, hoping—praying—that you understood.

In that moment, nothing else mattered. The cold, the darkness, the fear—it all faded away, leaving only the two of you, bathed in the soft light of his lure. You were his universe, his everything. And as he looked into your eyes, he knew that, no matter what the future held, he would fight for this—for you—for the chance to hold onto the one thing that made his existence bearable.

You had become his light in the darkest of places, and he would spend every moment he had left proving that he could be worthy of such a gift.

There can be no inbetween.

When your pride is on the floor.

I'll make you beg for more.

You promised to marry him all those years ago. Those weren't just words but the assurance that you would never leave him, you couldn't.

You wouldn't marry the handsome raven haired man.

Or the tall sea-serpent hybrid that got experimented on.

You wouldn't marry the nerdy man you knew or the sassy giant.

You would marry Sebastian. Just Sebastian.

“Sebastian Solace. My sweet, beloved Sebastian. Please, stay with me.”

#sebastian solace #sebastian solace x reader #sebastian solace x you #roblox pressure #sebastian solace fanfic #pressure #pressure x reader #pretzelthoughts

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titanic-angel · 1 year

Text

мιgυel o'нara х ғ!reader

◥︎ 『 coғғee ︎pт.2 』︎ ◣

▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎

ѕυммary ➞︎ мayвe мιgυel lιĸeѕ нιѕ тнιngѕ ѕweeтer тнan нe wanтѕ тo adмιт.

warnιngѕ ➞︎ none

noтeѕ ➞︎ нιgнly reqυeѕтed ғollow υp, ι cannoт eхpreѕѕ нow тнanĸғυl ι aм ғor тнe ѕυpporт on тнιѕ мιnι ѕerιeѕ ❤︎ this is the final installment :)

↽︎ parт 1

︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎

“And he drank it?”

You nodded, sipping at your morning cup of coffee. The sweetness stuck to the roof of your mouth, caffeine slipping into your chest. You watched as Peter B ran his hand through his hair, eyes wide in curiosity and shock.

“Every time I put chocolate in mine he looks at me like I killed someone!”

You laughed, shaking your head. “That’s because no one does that, Peter.”

He scoffed, puffing out his chest and shifting his baby strap, where Mayday bounced contently. “Well Mayday seems to like it!”

As if on cue, the red head purred, giggling at her fathers exasperated sigh.

“Do you think his exhaustion is getting to him? Miguel…isn’t the open minded type.”

You thought back to the night before, his soft brown gaze making your cheeks turn pink. The feeling of his lips under your thumb, and his-

“Well there is one more thing,” you said, eyes drifting to your coffee cup, “he…well he smiled.”

Mayday and Peter both went silent, faces blank. You shifted, awaiting the eventual explosion from the two of them.

But it never came. Peter closed his mouth, as if all the air and words has been caught at the back of his teeth, sucking in a sharp, stunned breath.

“Miguel…smiled? Like, a happy smile. Not a fake one? Or a sarcastic one?”

You shook your head, taking another absent minded sip of your coffee. Was it truly an unbelievable, impossible sight? Was the idea that Miguel could smile so foreign and strange that one of his closest acquaintances couldn’t conjure the image?

Mayday crawled out of her fathers carrier, cooing at you and reaching for your arms, as if you distract you from your wandering thoughts. You gladly took the grinning child, who curled into your arms, eyes fluttering in comfort.

“No. I think it was genuine.” You finally replied, smiling down and letting the little girl grip your fingers.

Peter sighed, tone calming at the sight of his happy daughter in your arms. ��Well, consider yourself lucky. Even Mayday struggles to bring out a smile in that man.”

You laughed quietly, bouncing the girl in your arms. “Well now that’s just unthinkable!” She hummed happily in response, head leaning into your chest.

“What is?”

His voice had retained some of its evening whisper, but under its assured stature, laid a raspiness that was undeniably tiered and stern. It captivated attention even in its subtlety, abstrusely spoken in a manor that made you shiver.

You greeted Miguel with a smile, looking up at him as Mayday squealed, enthralled to see his shadow, casted by the morning light peaking through the windows in the coffee room.

“We were talking about how no one couldn’t like this sweet girl,” you tickled her stomach with your fingers, making the smile she had gotten from her father crinkle her eyes, “not even you.”

Miguel huffed, shoulders shrugging in mock offense. “I don’t dislike her- she’s just,” he looked down at the blubbering child, face softening for a moment before regaining its usual scowl, “unpredictable.”

Both Peter and you laughed, sending each other a knowing look. Nothing was predictable enough for Miguel, much less a child.

Mayday moved out of your arms and onto your shoulders, looking up at Miguel with an insistent, giddy smile. He sighed, extending his arm so she could crawl along it, resting on his shoulder and fiddling with his disheveled hair. Both you and Peter smiled at the endearing scene, Miguel grumbling frustrated, incomprehensible Spanish under his breath.

You took a sip from your mug before sending a guilty look at the empty machine. “Sorry Miguel, we’re all out of coffee this morning- we finished off the last bag of grind,” you paused, your eyes darting between Peter, your cup, and then Miguel, “but you could finish my cup. I’ve had plenty this morning.”

Miguel sent you an incredulous look, instantly aware of the game you were trying to play. “I wouldn’t want to take-“

“Please I insist.” You lifted to cup to his chest. He sighed through his teeth, taking the creamy, light liquid from your hand. You smiled sweetly at him, which he returned with a warning stare.

“This was a nice break- and always lovely to see you, Mayday,” you poked her shoulder, the giggling menace still happily perched on Miguel’s broad shoulders, “but I’ve got plenty of work to do. Including getting some more grind from the storage.”

You sent a final look to Miguel, and a message through your eyes. He rolled his, bringing the warm mug to his lips.

You got to see Peter B’s mouth drop before you closed the door.

▂︎▂︎▂︎▂︎

You walked triumphantly down the stark white halls, that similar heat simmering in your chest. You welcomed it with a quiet sigh, your shoulders light with the reminder of it all.

You and Miguel were close, in the loose term of the word. Being one of the few early members of the society, you had your fair share of adventures and fights together- but labeling the dynamic between you two is difficult.

Peter B would always be his right hand man- his confidant. Jess was probably the closest thing he would ever have to an older sister, despite her being a little less than a decade younger.

But you and Miguel didn’t have a category. You sat in the natural, comforting, almost familiar air that surrendered itself in your presence. Begrudgingly, you’ll admit that for as long as you’ve known him, attraction always fizzled in your ribs when his voice said your name, or his skin met yours. But for just as long you have decided it was ridiculous, even in the moments he looked at you with that endless brown.

“Why did you do that?”

There it was again- that subtle raspiness and the shiver that followed. You can’t say you’re surprised that he followed you, after all you did tease him.

You be honest with yourself, you weren’t sure why you took so much joy from making Miguel surrender to your wit. You knew that not many get the luxury of making him flustered, and that you’ve always taken advantage of your…affect on him. But as to why? It stumped the both of you.

You sent Miguel an innocent look. “Do what? Give you my coffee?”

Miguel pressed his lips together, torn on whether he should retort or agree. “…yes.” He decided.

You took a left, starting to remember the route to the storage room. It was massive, but because you’d rarely ever paid it a visit, its location remained misty in your mind.

“Well, you seemed to like it last night,” You sent a look to his empty mug, and then to him, “and clearly this morning.”

He huffed, setting the cup down on the nearest table, embarrassed he had been caught.

“You look like you need a boost, anyway.” You replied with a smugness in your voice, that was almost undetectable. Almost.

You took a turn around the corner, following the graphic signs to the storage room, grateful they placed markers to navigate the maze that was the Hub. Miguel had stopped behind you, but you still felt his looming presence down the hall.

“You told Peter, didn’t you.” He narrowed his eyes to punctuate his accusation.

“Tell him what? That you like my coffee?” You finally reached the storage doors, pressing your thumb against the scanner, hearing the programmed beep vibrate the scratched plastic screen, “Maybe.”

Miguel pinch the bringe of his nose, whispering, dios santo, me estás matando. sharply under his breath.

The gigantic doors slid open slowly, revealing the shelves stacked with an assortment of inventory. It had everything- everything, but organization. You went left, trusting the foggy memory of the storage map and where it placed the grind. You made yourself more sure as you counted the aisle numbers, cold air making the hairs on your neck prickle.

It was that, or Miguel’s presence behind you, demanding attention.

“He didn’t need to know.”

Your laugher echoed off the shelves, making the cans and bags shake in their spots. You turned down aisle 7, pleased (if not a little proud) at the sight of tan bags with “New York Grind” written in a typewriter font sitting at the middle of the aisle.

“What? Does cream and sugar stain your reputation?”

He was hot on your heels. “Yes!” He nearly wailed.

You stopped, facing to him with a playful smile drawn on your cheeks.

“Miguel, have you ever considered that people pay more attention to your pursuit of a coworker all the way down to the storage room and less to what’s in your coffee cup?”

Miguel paused, eyes roaming the steel shelves, as if he had just become aware of his surroundings. You shook your head, your smile still wrinkling the sides of your eyes.

You stopped in front of the coffee grind, now looking much higher up than it did only seconds ago. You stood on your toes, swiping with out success to the bags that sat a tantalizing, teasing, fingernail away from your grasp.

“Really, Miguel. I didn’t mean to ruin whatever mysterious, solemn image you built for yourself here,” you let out an exasperated sigh, straining your legs to no avail, “but I just think it’s sweet that you enjoy sugar and cream in your coffee.”

Hot breath fanned on your head, and your eyes watched as a large hand clasped over the bag of coffee. Your breathe hitched, suddenly very aware of the warm, familiar feeling that enveloped your shoulders.

“You think I’m…sweet?”

He said it with so much confusion, that your brain barely processed the underlying tones of hope that resided in the question.

You froze, replaying your words with a clarity that made your jaw click. He handed you the grind, but didn’t step back. You felt frustration building in your center (either from his clear attempt at intimidation, or how much it was working). You sighed harshly, turning while opening your mouth to say something.

It quickly closed, at the sight of overwhelming brown.

You were finally able to place the emotion that made itself home in his irises when he looked at you, and the mere thought that you might be correct made your heart leap into your throat, silencing every quip or retort you had prepared.

You weren’t trapped. His hands rested comfortably at his side, giving you the option to escape in any direction that wasn’t forward.

But not even the animalistic part of you, the survival instinct, wanted to escape. It felt more alive being exactly where you were.

“I am not…upset you told him about last night. It’s just that….” You turned to face him, the beat of your heart thriving tension that existed between the small space that separates your lips. His brows casted a shadow of contemplation on his eyes, concealing they’re hue.

You weren’t sure if you wanted them to be brown or red- but you knew that it was ecstasy to have him this close.

“Just that…?”

He sighed, the corners of his mouth neutral. You hated that his features were a perfect mask, never giving anything away- while your reddened cheeks, shaky breath, and gaze trained directly on his lips did.

“I wanted that to be between us.”

You shuddered at the thought. “…why?”

He looked at you, and his pleading gaze told you two things.

You knew exactly why.

And you were right about what was in his eyes.

Your mouth felt dry. “Does…does that also stain your…reputation?” You said, all of the bite in the response dead in your whisper.

He had leaned in, the brown so close you felt as if you could be sucked in. “Yes.”

Chills ran up your spine, eyes drifting to his lips, remembering the white cream that once lined them. You swallowed, fingers tracing the smooth plastic of the bag in your hands.

“That’s too bad.”

You held your breath, eyes not drifting from his lips. His hum rumbled in his chest, the sound making your knees weak.

You dropped the bag, the memory of why it was in your hands instead of him was now a distant and feeble mumble. He stiffened at the sound, watching you as if you were just as unpredictable as Mayday.

However, the way you’re eyes had refused to look at anything but his lips was a dead give away.

Miguel did things slow and small. It was one of the (many) things you appreciated about him. His energy was the essence if not the pure definition of subtle. Even if his loom made shivers crawl up someone’s spine, or his shadow alone made the opponent cower, nothing in his actions called attention on purpose. He used that subtly to his advantage, his goliath shadow speaking for itself to the enemy- his intimidation silent.

But you were no enemy.

In fact, you were the only force that he didn’t want to fight- he was completely fine embracing you instead.

And so he did.

The kiss was all of his subtly and more. It was soft, from the gentle movement of his lips against yours to the way he placed his hand shyly against your lower back, leaning you up against the cold metal shelves. You struggled to think straight, but the first thought that whispered in the back of your mind was that you were completely right about what you though his lips would taste like.

Coffee.

It was chaste, and as you pulled away every fiber in your body prickled at your skin and in your muscles, craving to collect in your lips. Your eyes fluttered to meet his, gleaming and foggy.

He was smiling, that beautiful crease in the valleys of his jaw making the wires in your brain spark and circuit. When he opened his eyes, he looked dazed, as if he felt as though he had just woken from a dream.

Their color didn’t really matter to you now.

▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎

That evening, you assured Jess you could take her coffee shift, promising her that you could handle him for another night.

Her rough laugh and weary eyes thanked you, and you were left to walk the cold, empty hallways alone.

But when you reached his platform, smiling gently at him, the absence of Lyla (most likely by his doing) louder than the smile he returned, you felt like you were anything but lonely.

You handed him a coffee. It was lighter than his usual, the murmur of sugar and cream deep in its caffeine. However, it was darker than yours, different than the overwhelming taste of sweet.

He took the cup, sending you a gentle, knowing look. You returned it, placing a hesitant hand on his.

“Let’s start small.”

▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎

I wanted to thank everyone for the overwhelming support I got after I posted part 1, you genuinely mean so much to me. I hope you enjoyed!

special thanks to the following (aka taglist): @myownsimp (your message made me cry ty legit touched my heart) @vxxxb (thank you for your message abt the way I write miguel ❤︎) @cooch1ecruncher (your so sweet and ur arts adorbs) @blue-raven-universe (TYYY) @miggyoharaswife (thank you for the support on pt.2) @abyemayiamay (your compliment means sm to me ty) @iwatobiswimbros (I’m feral for him to tbh) @lilithandherharlots (honestly same but for him? anything ❤︎) and @mochi46106 (ILY TY)

#fanfiction #fanfic #fanfics #across the spiderverse #spiderverse atsv #into the spider verse #spiderverse itsv #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel ohara x reader #miguel o’hara #miguel spiderman #miguel spiderverse #miguel ohara #miguel ohara x you #miguel o’hara x you #spiderman 2099 #spiderman 2099 x reader #spiderman 2099 x you

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softsturn · 10 months

Text

the beach - m.s

⩩ pairing: matt x fem!reader

⩩ summary: matt is caught jerking off to his best friend (inspired by @heartstreet !! full creds to them for this idea)

⩩ warnings: masturbation, handjob, p-in-v, half assed writing at the end.

⩩ a/n: sorry i haven’t posted much, its been so hard to think of ideas. i wanted to make a part two of what i last posted but i literally don’t know how to continue it😭 thank you for all the likes and follows!! pls leave me requests :)

Describing the bond between you and Matt exceeds the simplicity a mere friendship. Growing up, you lived only a few houses away from his, you shared the same schools, and practically every experience was a joint venture. It wasn't just common knowledge; it was an undeniable truth that wherever you went, a blue-eyed boy with brown hair was sure to follow, mirroring your every step like a lost puppy. The invisible tie binding you two seemed unbreakable, preventing you from straying far apart.

Now, at Cape Cod, a destination woven into the fabric of your cherished summer memories, you eagerly await Matt and his family’s arrival. Setting up foldable chairs and towels on the sandy shores, you can hardly contain your anticipation, eager to continue the tradition of shared moments under the sun.

As if on cue, his family strolled towards the beach, carrying an assortment of towels, bags, chairs, and a cooler. Your face lit up with a vibrant smile upon spotting the three identical boys approaching with palpable excitement. They placed their belongings on the sand, and you greeted them eagerly.

Matt's eyes widened noticeably, practically popping out of his sockets as he unabashedly drank in the sight of you. While you maintained your usual level of beauty, his gaze lingered on your figure. Stepping out of your comfort zone, you had chosen a two-piece bikini opposed to a one piece like you normally wore, showcasing newfound confidence in your evolving body. The swimsuit hugged you in all the right places, baring your torso and clinging snugly to your curves. Matt found himself caught in a momentary, lustful gaze, slightly zoning out as Nick and Chris enthusiastically hyped you up in the background.

"You look so good girl!" exclaimed Nick, with Chris joining in laughter, while you, feeling a bit shy, crossed your arms over your stomach.

Coming back to reality from his fleeting thoughts, Matt nodded and offered you a small, genuine smile. "You look..." he hesitated, carefully choosing his words to avoid any discomfort for you. "Pretty," he mumbled sheepishly, prompting a soft blush to grace your face. Matt's compliments held a unique significance, seeming to carry more weight than others, his opinion reigning supreme in your mind.

"Thank you," you replied with a shy giggle, while Nick and Chris exchanged amused glances, furrowing their brows at the subtle dynamics unfolding between the two of you. The unspoken connection, the palpable undercurrent of something more than friendship, was evident to everyone around. Jokes from your parents about an impending marriage and teasing from Matt's brothers were constant reminders of the unspoken truth – you and Matt shared a love that transcended platonic feelings, even if the explicit words hadn't been uttered.

After a few hours under the warm sun, the faint emergence of sunburn and light freckles adorned your face, telling tales of days spent soaking up the heat. Meanwhile, Matt wrestled with his thoughts, a delicate balance between loyalty to your friendship and the desire that threatened to breach inappropriate territories. He harbored a profound fear of jeopardizing the trust you shared or causing any discomfort, acutely aware that losing you was a risk he couldn't fathom.

As you stood, engrossed in gathering your belongings and bending over slightly, Matt couldn't suppress the way his gaze involuntarily traced the curves of your figure, particularly fixating on your ass. His mind danced with forbidden scenarios, imagining actions he both longed for and felt conflicted about. Sensing a warmth spreading through him, he nervously looked away, trying to prevent any telltale signs of his internal struggle.

You straightened up, holding your possessions with a toothy grin, completely oblivious to the subtle turmoil in Matt's mind. "I'll see you back at the house," you said softly. Matt offered a slight nod and joined his brothers in packing up their belongings. As you made your way to your car, your parents loading up the trunk, you settled into the back seat, succumbing slowly to sleep, the exhaustion of the day catching up with you.

Waking up with a groan, you found your parents' car parked by the side of the road in front of the triplets' house, just a few doors down from your own. The plan was to spend the night at their place, a routine that had become usual given your inclination to seek comfort in their home over your own. Extracting yourself from the car, you grabbed your overnight bag, bidding farewells to your parents as you watched them drive away.

Your bathing suit clung persistently to your body, your hair still damp, and the weariness in your limbs yearning for the promise of relaxation. Shuffling into Matt's home without bothering to knock, the unspoken familiarity of years spent together allowed you the privilege of simply letting yourself in. Passing through the kitchen, Matt's parents greeted you with warm smiles as you entered the living room.

There, Matt, Nick, and Chris were sprawled on the couch, engrossed in a movie that you were sure they had seen at least a thousand times. When Matt's eyes met yours, a soft expression played on his face, evident in the effort to maintain eye contact with your face rather than letting his gaze wander.

"Hey," he murmured, and you returned the greeting with a gentle smile, playfully ruffling his hair as you stood over him. "Hey, I'm gonna go shower. I'll join you guys if you're still out here when I'm done." With that, you ventured down the hall, heading toward the guest bedroom.

In the midst of a hot shower, as you washed away the residue of salty water and sand, Matt and his brothers grew disinterested in the movie, dispersing to their separate bedrooms. Collapsing onto his bed with a weary sigh, exhaustion permeated Matt's body. Turning to his phone, he absentmindedly scrolled through various social media apps. Refreshing his Instagram feed, he stumbled upon a recent post you had shared before stepping into the shower.

The post featured a series of photos taken by Nick during your beach outing. One image captured you from the side, accentuating your ass and curves, while another showcased the contours of your cleavage and perky boobs from the front. Although the intention behind the pictures was innocent, Matt's mind became inundated with impure thoughts. Consumed by a sense of guilt, he recognized the inappropriateness of his desires, grappling with conflicting emotions. You were his best friend, and he was acutely aware that such lascivious thoughts were unwarranted. It was more than mere lust; he harbored genuine love for you and a desire to be a person deserving of your affection.

As Matt stared at his screen, a warmth enveloped his body, and he found himself unable to suppress the physical reaction, a boner forming in his pants. He felt conflicted, but it wasn’t like you knew what he was thinking, or doing. Succumbing to the intensity of his desire, he pulled his pants down enough to free himself, his cock springing out of his boxers. He took his cock into his right hand, phone in his left hand, and he began to stroke himself, allowing his imagination to run wild with scenarios that had occupied his dreams. The room echoed with subtle grunts and whimpers as he finally started to release the pent-up feelings that had plagued him throughout the day.

You emerged from the invigorating shower, enveloped in a towel, the sensation of cleanliness and renewal coursing through you. Exiting the bathroom, you ventured into the guest bedroom designated for your night's rest, shutting the door behind you. As you delved into your bag, extracting essentials like panties, shorts, and a tank top, the soft fabrics embraced you once you shed the towel. Nighttime rituals of hair brushing, skincare, and teeth cleaning completed, you settled into the guest bedroom, a sanctuary that had become almost like your own.

The tranquility was fleeting, interrupted by a shiver that prompted a quest for warmth. Rummaging through your bag, you discovered the absence of a hoodie – an oversight that led you down the hall to Matt's bedroom. Assuming he'd still be awake, you envisioned a simple request to borrow one of his hoodies. Little did you anticipate the unexpected scene awaiting you.

Without bothering to knock, a habit formed over years of friendship, you barged into Matt's room, focused on your hoodie mission. "I need to borrow a hoodie; it's freezing—" your words trailed off as your gaze absorbed the shocking sight. Matt, in his bed, his hand pumping up and down his cock, his phone displaying pictures of you. A gasp escaped him as your presence registered, his eyes meeting yours with a mix of surprise and guilt. "Y/N..." he uttered, his phone slipping from his hand onto the bed, his hand movements abruptly halted in the realization of the awkward situation.

"Oh my god, I'm sorry; I didn't think—I should've knocked. I'll just go get one from Nick," you mumbled nervously, ready to retreat. The air hung heavy with the unspoken tension, both of you grappling with the potential ramifications on your friendship. Before you could exit, Matt called to you, conflicted between wanting you to stay and the desire to erase this awkward moment.

"Don't go," he uttered, wincing at his own words, attempting to clarify that he wasn't making advances or asking for anything. You stood there, caught in a surreal tableau, uncertain about how to navigate this unexpected revelation. Blinking in an attempt to regain composure, you voiced a question laden with curiosity and awkwardness.

"Do you... do this often?" your brows furrowed, your gaze drifting toward his needy cock. Matt sighed, grappling with shame, attempting to rein in his emotions. "Jerk off? Or jerk off to you..." he replied, injecting a hint of humor to alleviate the palpable tension.

"Jerk off to me," you clarified, offering a sheepish smile, grateful for his attempt to inject some levity. Matt, in a vulnerable admission, stumbled through an explanation, striving to avoid sounding like a creep. The guilt weighed heavily on him, sensing that he had betrayed the sanctity of your friendship.

"This is the first time—I'm sorry. You just looked so pretty all day, and I couldn't... I don't know," he rambled, his remorse evident. Expecting you to recoil, Matt braced for the consequences of his impure thoughts. Yet, to his surprise, you stepped closer, the bed dipping as you sat on the edge near his legs. Your eyes danced everywhere but on his throbbing cock.

"It's okay; I'm not mad," you reassured, the tension easing with your understanding words. In that moment, you appreciated the side of Matt that could inject humor even into the most awkward situations, and despite the strangeness of the circumstance, a reassuring smile graced your lips.

"You're not?" he asked, confusion etching his face as his gaze reached the end of the bed where you were. The bewilderment stemmed from the expectation of your anger; he believed he deserved your fury. You shook your head, dispelling any doubts that lingered in his mind. "I'm not mad," you affirmed, inhaling deeply before contemplating the weight of your next words. The undeniable truth of their mutual feelings lay bare, an unignorable reality that both had been evading.

"Do you want me to help you?" you inquired, addressing the underlying tension. Matt hesitated, shaking his head in a refusal. Your offer, though tempting, made him reluctant, not wanting you to feel obliged, and questioning his own worthiness of such an intimate gesture. “Y/N… you don’t have to.”

Sighing, you crawled to sit on his knees, his cock twitching right before you, aching for release. It wasn't about obligation; it was about love. You wanted to be the one to bring him pleasure. "I know, I want to," you reassured, meeting his gaze as he deliberated. "Please," he whimpered, desperation evident on his face. Taking it as a signal, you palmed him, your hand trembling slightly as you sought confirmation in his eyes, ensuring every move was met with consent.

As you encountered nothing but longing in his gaze, your hand tentatively began to move, gliding up and down his length. The unspoken revelation that you were not very experienced was apparent to him, and a twinge of guilt crept in as he allowed you to pleasure him. Determined not to make this solely about his satisfaction, he seized the moment, grasping your wrist and redirecting your hand away from his arousal, prompting you to lean forward.

In an impulsive move, he pressed his lips forcefully against yours, his tongue seeking entry, savoring the taste of your chapstick. The kiss bore neither aggression nor softness; instead, it carried the weight of years filled with tension, prolonged gazes, and lingering touches, finally unfurling in this shared moment. Pulling back slightly, he noticed your lips chasing after his, seeking more contact with his lips.

"I want to make you feel good too," he murmured against your lips, his words flushing your face with heat, a wetness growing between your legs. The dynamics shifted, and now it was you yearning for him. His hands found your hips, drawing you closer until you straddled his waist, your clothed pussy pressing against his cock. His fingers hooked into the waistband of your pajama shorts and panties, seeking consent as he looked up at you.

"Can I take these off, baby?" he asked, and in response, you nodded, lifting yourself to allow him to slide them down your legs before resuming the straddled position, anticipation hanging thick in the air.

You took a sharp breath, nerves tingling as you ventured into unfamiliar territory with Matt. As he ran a finger through your wet folds, he licked his lips, captivated by the sight of your pretty pussy. In that moment, Matt would have done anything and everything you asked, he was completely at your mercy. Firmly holding your hips, he allowed your wet cunt to hover over his cock. While his desires tempted him to force you down and make you take it, his deep care for you held him back, especially given the significance of this being your first time.

"Go slow, okay? It's going to hurt a little, but I'm right here," he said. Nodding, you began the descent, wincing as his tip slipped into your enterance. "Oh my god, Matt," you moaned, your words interrupted as Matt leaned up, pressing his lips to yours to stifle your sweet sounds, mindful of his brothers sleeping down the hall.

Gradually, you took more of him in, whimpering at the initial stinging sensation as his cock stretched your tight walls. Eventually, you lowered yourself completely onto him, pausing to adjust to the sensation of him buried deep inside you. "Such a good girl, taking me so well," he cooed.

“Feels so good,” you murmured, the words escaping on a breath as you began to move your hips against him, keeping a steady rhythm. He gripped your hips firmly, and you were sure there would be red marks left behind. His kisses trailed down your neck, lips brushing over your collarbones and shoulders, marking you with purposeful hickeys that finally declared you as his, even though you had always belonged to him.

Slowly, he lifted your tank top over your head, tossing it aside in the room's shadows. "So fucking pretty," he mumbled, his gaze lingering on you through half-lidded eyes. His mouth descended, lavishing much-needed attention on your boobs, kissing and licking your sensitive nipples with devotion. In his eyes, your body was a masterpiece, and he aimed to ensure you knew just how perfect you were. Every gesture was a testament to his worship, eliciting small moans of pleasure as you succumbed to the sensations he bestowed upon you.

"Faster, please," he choked out, a desperate need cracking his voice as he trailed kisses down the valley of your breasts. Swiftly obeying, you quickened the pace, moaning as you rocked back and forth on his cock. Yet, the soreness lingering from your day at the beach made it challenging. Matt noticed, his hands helping to move your hips, orchestrating a rhythm that heightened the pleasure. He began to thrust into you, hips meeting yours, intensifying the sensation.

Throwing your head back, eyes rolling, pleasure consumed you, a knot tightening in your stomach. One of his hands left your hip, moving downward, his thumb expertly circling your swollen clit. Overwhelmed, words escaped you, your mind consumed by him. "Fuck, Matt," you managed to whimper in your love-drunk state, a proud smirk gracing his lips as he witnessed you lost in pleasure, knowing he was the only one to evoke such a response.

"Cum for me, princess," he urged in a whiny, broken voice, his own release imminent. His words triggered your climax, a stream of mumbled curses and whines escaping you as pleasure saturated every inch of your being. Surrendering to the intensity, you abandoned your movements, letting him guide and sway you through the waves of orgasmic ecstasy. His release followed suit, white streams of cum shooting into you, accompanied by his whimpering and grunting.

As the movements ceased, he lay beneath you, both of you attempting to catch your breath. Gingerly lifting yourself off him, a wince accompanied the sensitivity as his cock withdrew from your cunt. Rolling over, you nestled next to him, curling into his side, a lazy hand draped over his waist. His hand found its way to your head, tenderly stroking your hair as you rested against his chest, syncing your breathing with his.

"Get some rest; I'm taking you on a date tomorrow," he grinned mischievously, planting light kisses on your forehead. Raising your head, curiosity piqued, you questioned, "A date?" He nodded, gently pushing your head back to his chest, his fingers continuing to stroke your hair in a soothing rhythm.

"A date. So I can ask you to be my girlfriend," he chuckled, of course Matt wanted to do things right despite having just fucked you dumb. You chuckled in response, appreciating Matt's intent. "Okay, I can't wait to say yes," you declared, both of you closing your eyes, eager for the embrace of sleep and the beginning of this new chapter in your relationship.

#matt sturniolo #matt sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo x you #matt sturniolo x reader #sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo fluff #nick sturniolo #chris sturniolo #fluff #smut #matthew sturniolo #matt sturniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo oneshot

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akunoniwa · 10 months

Text

Doctor's Note

Synopsis: In which you get diagnosed and treated by your local Dr. Demon

Pairing: Gaap (Ars Goetia) x fem!reader

Warnings: MDNI, essentially just... demon fucking...

WC: ~4.5k

He’d already know your body too well, exactly where to touch and how, seeing as he’s a seasoned doctor. It didn’t matter that you’d only visited him just this once, he knew exactly what ailed you.

An excuse.

You’d read all about him, as you’d heard he takes phenomenal care of his patients, but an unusual sense of pride kept you from submitting to your curiosity. Until now.

“It’s strange…” He began, his voice buoyant despite its density. He’d done all of the typical procedures, asking about your medical history, taking your blood pressure, but he feigned ignorance of your real intent. He wanted to entertain your coyness, as it’s nothing new… But you seemed particularly delectable, as he recognized you’re not one easily swayed.

His wanting to change the subject naturally had you alert, waiting for him to continue with suspended brows.

“You’d made this appointment with an air of reasoning as if I’d find something wrong?” His eyes did not raise, as his gaze was focused on his pen lacing ink into quick, ornate letters on the report. The sound of the dextrous and hasty ballpoint imprinting strings of words onto the page somehow spoke of his personality to you… It was oddly fascinating to watch.

You were skeptical of this remark, as you’d made no obvious note of this being your motive, it’s merely a regular physical, “I just haven’t been keeping up with my health, and you were recommended to me…”

He gently huffed out what almost seemed to be a smug scoff, setting his clipboard on the counter behind him. You still sat propped up on the observation table, feeling almost infantilized by the way your feet barely reached the step-down.

“There’s just one last step, I need to check your lungs and heart…” You noted that he didn’t keep the stethoscope around his neck but rather it was hung on the wall.

Within your reading up on him, you were quickly put on to why he was so ‘renowned’. Yes, he was genuinely an accomplished scholar, particularly in women’s health, but… Men and women alike would rave about how he’d ‘take care of them’ like no one else… You couldn’t snuff these thoughts out as he neared you from the side.

“If I may pry, who recommended me?” He hesitated to place the diaphragm against you. You felt disgusted by the way you were becoming increasingly aware of his proximity.

“Just a coworker, we were chatting about how negligent I am when it comes to my doctor visits… I know I need to pay more attention.” You gave an earnest response, trying to dilute any suggestive thoughts, though they were growing unbearably potent.

He hummed in acknowledgment with a considering pout, carrying on with checking your upper back, the cold of the bell piece cutting through your blouse, “Deep breath in…” He guided, almost lifting you with his voice

“And despite having a previous physician, you chose me?” He paused, “Breathe out.” He repositioned the diaphragm slowly against your back. He noticed your breath was tense instantly, trying to stifle any satisfaction in this. Your heart rate undeniably went up as he neared questionable territory with his interrogating.

“I was intrigued, my last doctor was not the most compassionate.” Your reasoning was quick, perhaps justified, but he liked the way your breath hitched as he moved around your back.

“One last breath in…” His voice rose as if he was holding the same breath, “And out.”

He rounded to your front, standing before you, “Just breathe as you normally would here.” He placed the piece in the center of your chest as you tried to avoid looking directly at his face. He was so close, you were in his sphere of scent, a delicately botanic, smoky kind.

“I said to breathe normally.” He asserted again with a small grin, “You just cannot seem to relax…”

“A doctor’s office isn’t particularly comforting.” Your eyes shot as far away from seeing his expression as possible, your cheeks tarnished with faint embarrassment.

“Is that what it is? Your blood pressure was entirely normal earlier… Perhaps there is something amiss with you…” His words dragged and coiled around you, reminiscent of his handwriting, aptly stringing you along.

You’ve been caught, pressing your lips together in a bashful attempt to not say something ridiculous, “And what might that be.” You maintained a level tone as best as you could.

He still held the scope in place, enjoying how you writhed, your breaths smaller, not so much frantic, but unsteady. He was surely staring at your face from his elevated angle, you could feel his gaze on you as if you were an ant under a magnifying glass.

His prior facade of professionalism dropped elegantly like a theater curtain, heavy as he leaned into you, his lips inches from your ear, “You know exactly why you came here, how long would you like to continue rehearsing this scene?”

Your frenzied heart rate was enough to drive him wild, but he knew how to keep tempo.

“... I…,” You were at a loss, not wanting to hear much more of your meek voice. His heat radiated over your whole body, voice seeping into you.

“I’ll show you compassion just this once,” His words were bowed with an audible grin, “Only if you can report to me what exactly brought you here. Truly.” He finally hung the scope to idle around his neck, wanting to hear your every syllable, even if they wavered.

Your words certainly didn’t come easily, “I was curious why you’d received such appraise… And I wanted to find out for myself.”

“You know what I am and what I do, and still sit here as if I have to evaluate you to find out your pitiful deficiencies.” You hadn’t noticed your legs instinctually parted to allow him closer, “You want me to assess your body, in more ways than one.”

“Is this not malpractice, you acting this way, doctor?” Your voice had surely withered under the weight of anticipation.

He was more moved by your calling him ‘doctor’ than he should have been, as it’s something he hears all the time… Your voice, strained and borderline needy, rearranged the word in his mind, “I’ll give you any version of malpractice you prefer, darling.” He finally distanced his face to align with yours, seeing your slipping guise from inches away.

“What would you prescribe to someone with my so-called pitiful deficiencies?” You playfully continued the bit, you both intertwined in the teasing like strands of a rope.

“Hmm… I may need a closer look, after all, just to ensure… May I?” You were caught off guard by his genuine concern about touching you.

“I can’t just go home untreated, can I? Whatever you need to do to cure me of these deficiencies, please…” You realized you’d properly left your decency and pride tied to a light post outside of the clinic.

He took in a breath himself, overwhelmed by your eager presence… No demon should have this much power without checks and balances… He salivated at the thought of ravaging you, tipped by your trailed ‘please’.

His hand, gloved in blue latex, rose to rest against your cheek as he showed you a doting look, “Stand up for me…”

You managed to still have a tinge of reservation, hesitating for barely a second. But, you both knew why you were here, there were no secrets to hang onto. You obliged as his hand fell, he stepped back allowing you some room. You had to admit, you were susceptible to his towering height as he scanned over you, somehow the silence served more to tension than awkwardness.

“To ascertain accurate results… These lovely clothes just won’t do, I regret to say…” He continued his character pretending to be upset by this. He stepped into you once again, an index finger pulling at your belt to undo the buckle, snaking it off of you through the loops. Even the mere sensation of this in tandem with your anticipation was starting to gnaw at you.

Along with the stethoscope, he hung your belt around his neck, “Perhaps this could be useful… Go ahead and strip for me darling, this could serve my research well.”

You committed to this energy, removing everything that clouded your bare form as he watched, head cocked observingly as he leaned back against the counter. Only the sound of clothes slipping against skin flooded the space. His eyes swayed and lingered over every detail, his hands anchored to the counter’s edge at either side of him, looking nonchalantly imposing.

“Any prognosis?” You called to him as he had to tear his eyes from your body.

“Oh, it’s severe, seeing as you just willingly stripped naked for someone of my ilk.” He closed in on you again, unable to resist playing with you.

His rubbery hands reached to entrap you, starting from your ribcage, thumbs briefly brushing over your nipples. He spared no specific attention to any one thing, sliding down over your waist, to your hips. He watched his hands as you watched his faded eyes, even his blinks were languid as he felt you observing him.

“Turn around.” It was an order, but his voice still floated above your head as you obeyed, turning in his grasp.

He hummed, pleased as his touch rose to your shoulders, then dragged torturously to your ass. Although you were not instructed, it felt as if you were once again holding onto a breath, releasing as composed as you could manage as his hands groped your flesh, “These are quite nice… Typically they look better in a red… Or maybe…” His words wandered off to somewhere unknown, a hand rising to push at your upper back, forcing you to bend forward.

“You’re very compliant, darling.” You felt an acidic wave of lust roll through you at his thoughtless praise.

By the silence, you judged he was certainly made aware of your most deficient parts, your cunt probably more obviously intrigued than anything else.

“Hmm… This is most likely where your problem lies…” A latex-clad finger made faint contact with your clit, causing your thighs to twitch at the attention, to which he chuckled through his nose, “Severe indeed.” His hand pushed you down further causing you to be on maximum display as his feather-light touch grazed up to find your glistening hole. You bit your lip, but harder on a groan you attempted to constrict.

“Don’t hold back, I need you to communicate with me so I can know what’s wrong.” You were still caught up by how nice his fanned hand forcing you down onto the observation table made you feel, let alone his meandering touch. You could envision how lewd it looked, the image making you falter.

His index finger still lingered around your hole in no particular manner, as if he was genuinely taking note of your anatomy, “Surely you’re aware… Typically when your cunt is this soaked…” His upper half leaned over your folded form, wringing you out with his heady demeanor, “It means you desire something desperately.”

Your head inadvertently raised to try and close any gap between you, craning up in aroused dejection. You could feel him pressed against you, he was undoubtedly having his fun.

“Does this align with your symptoms?” A hand wound under your left arm, snaking to wrap underneath your jaw, forcing you closer to his voice, “Tell me.”

“Yes, doctor.” You choked out, noticing his eyes bloom when you called him that earlier, you decided to use your own trump card.

He groaned above you, his voice blanketing you, “There’s only one thing I know of to treat cases like yours…” He pushed his hips ever so slightly into your backside causing your eyes to flicker, “But you self-diagnosed before you even came to my clinic… Dirty little thing.”

He lifted himself to straighten, “It’s phenomenal, this human form… But it seems you are more excited by my barbaric, obscene interior…” A pair of fingers played at your hole once again, barely pushing into you, “You can’t be satiated by just a human… You want something more. Something diabolic.” Slowly, his fingers progressed as he continued to whirl on, driving you mad with his words.

He could feel that you were clenching, smiling with amusement, “Is this true? You’d prefer to be fucked by a beast like myself?”

How you’d answer that outright, you were initially unsure, but his fingers curled down, adeptly pushing into a perfect spot, “I-I… Yes, I would.” You loved the idea of him fucking you with his latex gloves, something about how sterilizing and surgical it felt.

“You’d like that?” He pressed, establishing a crawling pace with his hand.

“Yes, I’d like that.”

“Your cunt is so hot and wet, darling, you may just melt these gloves off…” He mused, basking in your pleasure.

You couldn’t help but let your body sway into his fingers, meeting his pace. Your whole being was throbbing, letting your satisfaction leave you as pants. You were growing more desperate to cum, wanting to coat his fingers with your release, though he pulled his hand away.

“Stand and turn for me, darling,” You did so, though slowly so as to not underestimate your delirium, forced to make eyes with him as he tasted you, “Utterly divine, you taste so sweet…”

You couldn’t help but feel scorn towards him, being made to watch him clean your juices thoroughly from his fingers, “Jesus…” He looked gorgeous, just like that.

“Not quite.” He jested, his fingertips reaching to play at your bottom lip until you allowed access, taking his lithe fingers in your mouth. He watched you intently, beyond himself as it set in that such a pretty little human would stoop so eagerly down to his level.

He gradually pulled his hand away, watching the way your lips wrapped so nicely until the heat of your mouth was but a ghost. He painted a trail of your saliva down your chin, making a mess of you, “Your breasts are lovely too, I must say.”

He stretched his gloves off, exposing skin with markings that resembled black, veiny cracks. You were not repulsed, quite the contrary, his skin looked like a glass mosaic, his bare hands cupping your breasts. Feeling the rough texture of his skin against yours only amplified his effect.

“Your reactions are too much for me, it’s making it hard for me to keep composure…” He played at your nipples between his thumb and index, making you squirm.

“I didn’t come here for your composure.” You placed your hands on his kintsugi skin, hoping to urge him on.

“I am… well aware, darling.” His hands left you, shouldering off his lab coat, setting your belt to still be within reach, “You’ll need to be fucked back into health.”

As he continued to remove his work attire, he continued to reveal his increasingly onyx skin, the closer to his chest, the more dense the black. It was incredible, you couldn’t help but gawk, to which he smirked almost sheepishly, “Why don’t you sit pretty for me back on the table…”

You were balancing on his every command at this point, loving the feeling that embraced your body in this moment. You hopped back up on the table to face him, spreading your legs to taunt him. He moved routinely to his lower half, adoring how you watched as his trousers fell for him to push aside along with his shoes. You wouldn’t say you were shocked, but his cock was surely not human, three knots that staggered in increasing size from his tip to the base. Immediately, the irresistible thought of him pushing you open, feeling those crevices move your insides… You didn’t think you could grow any wetter.

“I love that expression you’re wearing… The only thing I’ll allow.” His hand wrapped around himself, pumping his bulbous length. You had a paradoxically innocent urge to simply stroke him, of course never having seen this before. You felt sordid for being turned on at the sight of him touching himself right before you.

You took it upon yourself to let a hand find your clit, seeing if this would induce any reaction from him. It most certainly did, an inferno sparked in his chest, let alone his cock, as he watched you play with yourself so deviantly. He was debating… Should he keep dragging you around with his antics… Or are you in such a grave state that you must be cured right this instant? His own heart raved at the possibilities, mind flooded with a mirage of your pretty body doing such horrific things for him.

“What’s on your mind…?” He asked, his hand still cycling in a fluid motion in a stalemate.

“You.” You grinned, “What’s this cure you spoke of?”

Your being direct stoked him, causing him to chuckle deep from his chest, “I think I need to cure you until you’re properly bedridden, darling.”

You pushed your middle and ring finger into your beckoning cunt as you propped a leg up on the table, causing his eyes to immediately shoot to yours, almost in warning, “Please, doctor, I’m at your mercy.”

He let out an undeniable scoff this time, taking a few steps to near you as he grabbed your wrist, pulling your hand away, “I fucking hate how you call me that.” He aligned the tip of his alien-looking cock with your hole, that being enough to send shockwaves through you, “Keep doing it.”

He decided to channel his teasing into you, only pushing his girthy tip inside at a molasses pace, finally coaxing out the most beautiful sounds from you. You both had unanimous thoughts of how good the other felt, your pussy was impossibly soft and plush, his length surprisingly velvety as he angled himself to hit that same delicious spot. You felt your hole stretch around his first, modest knot as he’d continuously remove himself completely to shove himself back inside you.

“Do you think you need more? How do you feel, darling?” His hand gripped your thigh that still rested on the table, squeezing out your reply.

“It feels so good, doctor, but…”

He was awed by the fact you could still be embarrassed to express your needs, he found it almost endearing, “But…?” He pulled out to admire his tip glistening with your creamy slick, waiting for you.

He was going to make you say it, regardless. Even just the sight of his shaft that curved upward so enticingly made you quiver, “I need more.” God, you sounded so whiny and small.

His strong grip on your thigh was alarming, but not unexpected as his first knot slid in with ease once more, though the second demanded more of you. Paired with the stretch, he was starting to push fairly deep into you, finally starting to reorganize your insides as you imagined. You couldn’t tie down a labored ‘fuck’ as he began to thrust at a steady pace. Every time he pushed back into you, an indescribably foreign feeling of being perfectly spread by each knot exploded inside you. You decided to place your hands on his shoulders to keep balance as he hunched over your starved form.

Your moans were of a heavenly timbre he’d never know otherwise as he experimented with pace and angle to see which would make you sing. Your wetness coated the very beginning of his final, large knot as he thrust into you, but you couldn’t imagine it actually managing to fit. Because of its shape, his cock accentuated the squelches from your cunt, the crude sounds seeming to bounce off the walls.

He found another spot deep inside you, concocting a burn, itch, smolder… Every sensation was being triggered as he sheathed into you repeatedly, knowing he had found your sweetest spot, “You can’t even cry… How adorable…” His hand found your cheek once more as his eyes seemed to reach into you, cradling your gaze.

He wasn’t unfazed, in fact, your broken moans were like shards of glassy pleasure in his lower abdomen, he felt deific as he took you. And you took him so well… He’d almost plead to the gods himself if it meant that you’d clench onto him like this eternally. For a demon, he was quite considerate, as he’d never force you, but he wanted so desperately for you to absorb all he had, his final knot prodding at your cunt.

His hands slid to your knees, urging you to wrap your legs around his torso, lifting you as soon as you followed. Gravity lent itself to the intensity as you were slammed down onto him, his hands spread on either side of your ass. While you found yourself nearly unable to make a sound, finally he seemed to begin to crack, his deep moans touching a whole new kind of place inside you.

“You look so cute, your wasted expression…” He held you with one arm wrapped around your back, his other hand playing with your lips, “I wonder how sweet you look when you cum…?”

You could only give him an imploring look, your body being split open.

“My sick little darling…” You felt his final knot manage to slip in a bit further, causing you to cry out in pleasure, “Cum on my cock…” His voice wavered in time with his thrusts.

If you were to refer to any orgasm as explosive, this could be the only one, having never been spread that wide. Luckily he could easily support your form as you convulsed and shattered around him. You could almost immediately be thrown over again as his last knot slipped entirely inside your cunt.

“F-fuck, darling–” He stammered, his face contorted with frustration as he tried not to cum just yet wanting to prolong this moment. You felt so complete as he held you, your head resting on his void for a chest, warming his knots. You wanted to feel his searing load paint your insides, but he merely held your hips in place as you felt his cock tremble inside you.

He managed to move, setting you back down on the table letting you lay back.

“How do you feel…?” His words sounded as if they were squashed and dragged under a shoe, so incredibly tense as he gave your gleaming body a once… or twice over.

You couldn’t control how your cunt continued to squeeze, “So good…”

He wanted more. More of your voice, more of your touch. He decided to pull out, painstakingly slow, somehow, much to his surprise, managing not to implode. You both shared a groan of delight as the sliding friction tore at each other. A ring of your creamy sweet decorated the base of his cock, he watched as your wetness seemed to pour from you as he vacated your hole.

You wanted him to feel good… You had a fiery urge to ensure he was satisfied, almost to a point of not being able to recognize your own mind’s voice.

“Can you stand up one last time… for me?” He sounded pathetic… No human had ever obliterated his senses like this before, he didn’t think it was possible. He found humans to be amusing little toys… Not that you weren’t, but…

You obliged without question, watching as he turned away briefly to grab your belt. Of course his body was chiseled, something he knew appealed to mortal toys like yourself, you got another chance to study him until he faced you again.

He grabbed your wrists, binding them with your belt, and raised them above your head in one hand. He turned you with his other, walking you to the landscape window in his third-story office, having always wanted to do something like this. A foot or two away, he stopped, pressing your top half forward at your wrists, the side of your face and breasts pressed against the freezing glass. You felt so shameless… And so empty as you waited for him to fill you.

“Do you like being humiliated?” His familiar tip danced at your used hole, “Answer.” His domineering words ignited you.

“By you.” You answered candidly, words slightly distorted from your face being held against the window.

“Such a good, slutty little patient you are.” He plunged the entirety of his cock back into you swiftly, obsessed with how his largest knot was absorbed so easily.

“I want you to cum inside me, doctor…” You whined impatiently, completely lost in him.

“I’m sure you fucking do.” His words were shredded between his teeth, “You’d love that. I wish someone could see how fucking bad you want my cum.”

“Please…” You urged him to move, still in disbelief that he buried himself so far.

He was nearly at his own wit’s end, thrusting himself up into you, his hips colliding forcefully against your ass. His free hand was soldered to your waist, ensuring you remain as a statue in this unpleasant pose, it being uncomfortable somehow adding to the storm surge brewing inside you.

“Are you going to cum again, darling?” Your eyes were squeezed shut, just nodding worthlessly against the glass as he cooed so sinfully. “I love seeing you dance so beautifully on my cock, give me all of you.”

His tactic of plunging his entire length into you repeatedly was something you were particularly susceptible to, his knots rolling effortlessly through you, “Fuck… Yes...” His voice was as smoky as his scent, fogging your mind. He slammed into you one final time, holding you tightly against him as you both reached your highs. His thick seed was so hot, coating your walls so deliciously, his pants raining down against your back. You felt strangely resolved like you had served a divine purpose by receiving his cum so impossibly deep.

He pulled your body close by your bound wrists, his chest flush with your back, potting sweet kisses from your neck to your shoulder. It felt as if you could nearly be bound to his pelvis from how tightly you were wound around his shaft. A hand dragged down, letting your arms finally rest as he delicately caressed your breasts, your head falling back against the top of his chest.

“I think you may need a follow-up evaluation,” He cracked softly near your ear, “Your case is particularly serious.”

#wrote this a while ago and tried putting it up on other past blogs...#gaap #ars goetia #monster fucker #monster smut #demon smut #demon x fem!reader #demon x reader #作文

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songbirdseung · 3 months

Text

fatal trouble / nishimura riki

synopsis: after a year-long separation, Y/N is finally reunited with their first love, Ni-ki, at a mutual friend's wedding. everything seems the same on the surface – the setting, the people, the familiar laughter – but Ni-ki’s smile no longer holds the warmth Y/N once knew. his profound eyes, once windows to his soul, now seem guarded and distant.

pairing: ni-ki x reader, past lovers

warnings: emotional distress, separation, break ups, change, lmk if i missed anything

wc: 3.4k

Can't believe, you in front of me Everything is the same

You stand in the middle of the wedding aisle, your hands full of delicate flowers, carefully arranging them along the sides of the path. The scent of roses and lilies fills the air, mingling with the soft melodies of classical music playing in the background. You adjust the ribbon on one of the pews, making sure it is perfectly aligned.

"Need any help with that?"

The familiar voice catches you off guard. You turn, your breath hitching as you see Ni-ki standing there, holding a bundle of decorations. His eyes, deep and expressive, meet yours, and for a moment, the world seems to stand still. It has been a year since you last saw each other, but the familiarity between you is undeniable.

"Ni-ki," you breathe, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "I didn't know you were going to be here."

"Yeah, I didn't know either. Guess we both got assigned to decoration duty," he replies, his gaze never leaving yours. He takes a step closer, his presence both comforting and overwhelming.

You stand there, in the middle of the aisle, taking in every little detail about each other. Ni-ki's hair is a bit longer than you remember, and there is a new confidence in his stance. Yet, his smile, the way his eyes crinkle at the edges, is just as you recall.

"It's been so long," you say softly, your voice tinged with a mix of nostalgia and surprise.

"Too long," Ni-ki agrees, a hint of sadness in his tone. "I can't believe we're meeting again, right here, in front of each other."

You both look around, taking in the decorations, the flowers, the beautiful chaos of wedding preparations. Everything seems the same as it always is at such events, yet there is an unfamiliarity in the air. The distance of a year has brought subtle changes, ones that are now beginning to surface as you stand face to face.

"Everything looks the same," you remark, your eyes scanning the familiar setup.

But you have a different smile Those pro-found eyes

"But you have a different smile," Ni-ki observes, his voice gentle. "It's like… you've changed."

You look into his eyes, searching for the Ni-ki you used to know. There is a depth there, a story untold.

I look beyond them to find you It's unfamiliar, who are you? Where is the one that I love

"And you," you say, your voice barely above a whisper. "You seem different too. Where's the guy I used to know?"

Ni-ki chuckles softly, a bittersweet sound. "I guess time does that to people. But it's good to see you, really good."

You nod, feeling a mix of emotions you can't quite name. "Yeah, it's good to see you too, Ni-ki."

As you both resume your work, placing flowers and adjusting ribbons, the space between you is filled with unspoken words and lingering glances. The past year has changed you both, but in that moment, standing together in the wedding aisle, it feels like a piece of the past has found its way back into your lives.

Downfall in chaos I'm confused, baby Do I even know you?

As the wedding preparations continue, you find yourself watching Ni-ki from afar. The way he interacts with others, the confident way he carries himself—everything about him seems different, more mature, more refined. You can't help but wonder if this change is real or just a facade he's putting on for the occasion.

During the ceremony, your eyes keep drifting back to him. You notice how he smiles easily, how he engages in conversations with genuine interest. There's a new depth to his laughter, a subtle strength in his demeanor. It's almost as if the boy you once knew has grown into someone entirely new.

But beneath that polished exterior, you can't shake the feeling that there's something he's hiding. Was he putting up a persona for the sake of appearances, or had time truly transformed him? You recall the countless promises you both made to each other, one in particular standing out—the promise that no matter where life took you, you would always remain friends, always be there for each other.

As the evening progresses, you find yourself drifting through the reception, your thoughts consumed by these questions. You watch Ni-ki as he moves through the crowd, laughing and talking with ease. Each time your eyes meet, he gives you a warm smile, but you can't help but notice a flicker of something else in his eyes—something unreadable.

What has changed? Please answer me Am I wrong?

During a quiet moment, you step outside to get some fresh air. The cool night breeze feels refreshing against your skin, and you take a deep breath, trying to clear your mind. The distant sound of music and laughter from the reception hall drifts to your ears, a stark contrast to the turmoil of your thoughts.

"Hey."

You turn to see Ni-ki standing there, his hands in his pockets, his expression softer than before. He walks over to you, his presence once again comforting and overwhelming.

"Needed a break?" he asks, leaning against the railing beside you.

"Yeah," you admit, glancing at him. "Just needed a moment to clear my head."

He nods, looking out into the distance. "I get that. Weddings can be a lot."

There's a moment of silence, and then you decide to voice the question that's been gnawing at you all day. "Ni-ki, have you… changed?"

He looks at you, his eyes reflecting a myriad of emotions. "In what way?"

"I mean," you begin, choosing your words carefully, "you seem different. More grown-up, more… distant. I can't tell if it's just me or if you've really changed."

Ni-ki sighs, his gaze dropping to the ground. "A lot has happened over the past year. I've had to grow up in ways I didn't expect. But I'm still me, Y/N. I'm still the same person who made those promises to you."

"Have you forgotten them?" you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

He shakes his head, a small smile playing on his lips. "No, I haven't forgotten. But sometimes, life gets in the way, and we end up becoming versions of ourselves that we never anticipated."

You look at him, searching his face for any signs of the boy you once knew. And then, in a quiet voice, you say, "I missed you, Ni-ki."

He reaches out, taking your hand in his. "I missed you too, Y/N. More than you know."

As you stand there, holding hands under the night sky, you realize that no matter how much time has passed or how much you've both changed, the connection you share is still there. And maybe, just maybe, that's enough to bridge the gap between the past and the present.

Fatal trouble It's getting blurry Your memory It's falling apart

You wake up with a start, the vivid memory of the wedding and your conversation with Ni-ki lingering in your mind. As your eyes adjust to the morning light filtering through your curtains, you take in the familiar surroundings of your room. Your heart still pounds from the intensity of the dream, and for a moment, you struggle to separate reality from fantasy.

Sitting up, you glance around, seeking confirmation. The dress you wore to the wedding is draped over the back of a chair, and the bouquet of flowers you caught sits in a vase on your nightstand, the petals slightly wilted from the night's festivities. It's all real—you did attend the wedding.

But the moment you shared with Ni-ki outside the venue, the heartfelt conversation under the night sky—that was all in your head. The realization leaves you feeling a mix of disappointment and relief. You hadn't had the chance to ask him those burning questions or to see if he really had changed in the way your dream suggested.

You let out a sigh, running a hand through your hair as you try to shake off the remnants of the dream. It had felt so real, the emotions so raw and tangible. You wonder if your subconscious is trying to tell you something, urging you to reach out to Ni-ki, to bridge the gap that time has created.

Deciding to get out of bed, you head to the kitchen for a glass of water. The cool liquid soothes your parched throat and helps ground you in the present. As you stand there, you can't help but replay the dream in your mind, the conversation echoing in your thoughts.

"Good morning."

You turn to see your roommate, still in her pajamas, giving you a curious look. "You were tossing and turning all night. Everything okay?"

"Yeah," you reply, forcing a smile. "Just had a weird dream, that's all."

"About the wedding?" she asks, pouring herself a cup of coffee.

You nod. "Yeah, something like that."

As you both settle into your morning routine, you decide to check your phone. There are a few messages from friends and family, but one notification stands out—a message from Ni-ki. Your heart skips a beat as you open it.

"Hey Y/N, it was really nice seeing you at the wedding yesterday. Sorry we didn't get a chance to talk much. Maybe we can catch up soon?"

A small smile forms on your lips. Maybe your dream was more than just a figment of your imagination. Maybe it was a sign that it’s time to reconnect and find out for yourself how much has really changed.

You quickly type out a reply, your fingers trembling slightly. "Hey Ni-ki, it was great seeing you too. I'd love to catch up. Let me know when you're free."

As you hit send, a sense of anticipation fills you. The dream might have been just that—a dream—but the chance to rekindle an old friendship is very much real. And this time, you're determined to make the most of it.

Fatal trouble My heart Long-held trust Thеy're coming undone

Later that afternoon, you find yourself sitting at your desk, staring out the window. The events of the previous night and the vivid dream still weigh heavily on your mind. You decide to take a trip down memory lane, hoping to reconnect with the past and recall the moments you shared with Ni-ki.

You open an old photo album, the edges worn from years of use. Flipping through the pages, you see pictures of school events, birthday parties, and casual hangouts. There you are, standing next to Ni-ki, both of you grinning widely at the camera. The images bring a rush of nostalgia, but when you try to focus on specific memories, they start to blur.

You close your eyes, attempting to visualize the past more clearly. You remember the sound of Ni-ki's laughter, the way his eyes sparkled with mischief, and the countless inside jokes you shared. But the harder you try to grasp onto a particular moment, the more it slips away, like sand through your fingers.

You remember a sunny afternoon at the park, the two of you lying on the grass and talking about your dreams for the future. You can see the vibrant green of the trees and feel the warmth of the sun on your skin, but Ni-ki’s face is hazy, his voice indistinct. It’s as if the details are just out of reach, hidden behind a veil of time.

Another memory surfaces—walking home from school together, the sky painted in hues of orange and pink. You recall the sense of companionship and the comforting silence between you, but the conversation you had remains elusive, the words lost to the years that have passed.

Frustrated, you close the album and rest your head in your hands. Why is it so hard to remember? You wonder if it’s the passage of time or the emotional distance that has created this fog over your memories. The essence of your friendship with Ni-ki is still there, but the specifics are slipping away, leaving you with a sense of loss.

Determined not to let these memories fade completely, you decide to write down what you can remember, no matter how fragmented. You grab a notebook and start jotting down snippets—Ni-ki’s smile when he beat you at video games, the way he always knew how to cheer you up, the afternoons spent at the local café talking about everything and nothing.

As you write, you realize that while the memories might be blurry, the feelings associated with them remain strong. The sense of belonging, the joy of shared experiences, and the bond you once had with Ni-ki are still clear in your heart. And maybe, just maybe, reconnecting with him now will help bring those memories back into focus, allowing you to create new ones together.

I barely managed to guard you I don't want to lose you But anxiety looms over me

Ni-ki sits on the edge of his bed, staring at the open closet in front of him. Clothes are strewn about as he tries to decide what to wear for his upcoming meeting with you. It's been a year since he last saw you, and the thought of seeing you again fills him with a mix of excitement and dread. He finally picks out a simple outfit, hoping it will make a good impression without seeming too overthought.

As he buttons his shirt, his mind drifts back to the past. He thinks about the times he could have been there for you but wasn’t. The missed calls, the unanswered messages, the moments when you needed a friend and he was too caught up in his own world to notice. Guilt gnaws at him, a constant reminder of how he failed you.

He looks at himself in the mirror, his reflection showing a man who has changed, yet is still haunted by his past mistakes. "I can't let this chance slip away," he mutters to himself, his voice echoing in the quiet room. The thought of losing you again, of repeating the same mistakes, terrifies him. But the fear of history repeating itself is just as strong, if not stronger.

Ni-ki takes a deep breath, trying to calm his racing thoughts. He knows that over the past year, he's grown and matured. He's learned to be more present, to prioritize the people who matter. But doubt still lingers. What if you can’t see the changes he’s made? What if the memories of his past failures overshadow any progress he's achieved?

It's certainly blurred I don't know what to do

He sits back down on his bed, his mind swirling with a torrent of emotions. He remembers your laughter, the way your eyes lit up when you were happy, and the countless moments you shared. Those memories are a double-edged sword—they remind him of the bond you once had, but they also highlight the times he let you down.

“I won’t mess this up again,” he whispers, a note of determination in his voice. He knows he has to prove to you—and to himself—that he's different now. He wants to show you that he can be the friend you need, the friend you deserve.

As he laces up his shoes, Ni-ki's phone buzzes with a message from you, letting him know you're on your way to the café. His heart skips a beat. This is it, the moment he's been both anticipating and dreading. He can't afford to let fear dictate his actions. He has to seize this opportunity to make things right.

With one last look in the mirror, Ni-ki straightens his shirt and grabs his jacket. "You can do this," he tells himself, steeling his resolve. "Don't let the past control your future."

He heads out the door, each step filled with a mix of hope and anxiety. He knows this meeting is his chance to start fresh, to show you the Ni-ki he has become. And as he walks towards the café, he silently vows not to let history repeat itself. He won’t fail you again. Not this time.

Surely, there's only one you So now, I'll leave everything behind I'll follow my heartbeat

As Ni-ki steps into the café, his eyes search for you among the crowd. And there you are, sitting at a table near the window, a warm smile lighting up your face as you spot him. Relief floods through him at the sight of you, dispelling some of the nervous tension that had been building inside him.

He approaches your table, a tentative smile playing on his lips. "Hey," he says softly, his voice tinged with both excitement and apprehension.

"Hey," you reply, your smile widening as he takes a seat across from you. "It's been too long."

Ni-ki nods, feeling a lump form in his throat. "Yeah, it has," he agrees, his gaze briefly dropping to the table. "I'm sorry for… for everything."

You reach across the table, placing a reassuring hand on his. "It's okay," you say gently. "We both made mistakes. What matters is that we're here now, ready to move forward."

His heart swells with gratitude at your forgiveness, and he squeezes your hand in return. "Thank you," he murmurs, meeting your gaze with sincerity. "I've missed you."

The two of you fall into easy conversation, catching up on everything that's happened since you last saw each other. Ni-ki listens intently as you share stories about your life, your successes, and your struggles. He marvels at the strength and resilience you possess, amazed by the person you've become.

As the afternoon wears on, Ni-ki finds himself opening up to you in a way he hasn't in a long time. He tells you about the changes he's made in his life, the lessons he's learned, and the person he aspires to be. And with each word, he feels a weight lifting off his shoulders, a sense of liberation washing over him.

As the conversation comes to a close, Ni-ki realizes just how much he's missed having you in his life. He's grateful for this chance to reconnect, to rebuild the bond that once held you together. And as he looks into your eyes, he knows with certainty that he never wants to lose you again.

"Thank you for today," he says, a genuine smile gracing his lips. "I needed this more than you know."

You return his smile, warmth radiating from your gaze. "Anytime," you reply, your voice filled with sincerity. "You're always welcome here."

Ni-ki feels a sense of peace settle over him as he stands to leave the café. He knows that the road ahead won't always be easy, but with you by his side, he's confident that he can face whatever challenges come his way.

As he walks away from the café, a single thought echoes in his mind, filling him with a sense of hope and possibility.

"Surely, there's only one you."

As Ni-ki walks away from the café, you watch him go, a mixture of emotions swirling inside you. Seeing him again after so long brought back a flood of memories, both good and bad. But as you sit there, reflecting on your conversation, you realize that despite everything that's happened, nothing has truly changed between you.

You remember the laughter, the late-night conversations, the moments of shared joy and sadness. Those memories are still as vivid as ever, a testament to the bond you share with Ni-ki. And as you think about the person he's become, you feel a sense of pride and admiration.

You know that Ni-ki has made mistakes in the past, just like you have. But today, sitting across from him, you saw a different side of him—a side that's grown and matured, a side that's ready to move forward. And as you watch him walk into the sunset, you can't help but feel hopeful for the future.

With a renewed sense of optimism, you stand up from the table and begin to make your way home. The weight of the past feels a little lighter now, replaced by a sense of possibility and potential. And as you walk, you know that no matter what challenges may come your way, you'll face them together.

Because deep down, you know that nothing has truly changed between you and Ni-ki. The bond you share is as strong as ever, and together, you can conquer anything that comes your way.

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